Calling Durga

Some people left after Owen closed the Day of the Dead circle. Cindy, for instance, felt she needed to get home to Van, while Celeste and June declared themselves too old and creaky for sleeping bags on the floor. “I’m a Taurus, you know,” said Celeste. “I like my own bed!”

Most of those remaining headed out for the hot tub. Returning in after a bit, cider and brandy came out as people began to brush their teeth, find their nighties and unroll their sleeping bags onto pads they’d brought or ones rounded up by Ursula and Charley.

“Let’s all put our heads to the middle like we did a few years ago. Maybe we’ll dream together,” suggested Pia.

“Listen!” said Ursula. “Is that an owl?”

“Some would say that’s an indication that the dead are close by,” commented Pia. “Or that we’re meant to go deeper.”

“There it is again.”

“Tell us a story, Ursula.”

“Oh yes, please!”

“Funny you should ask. I’ve been hearing Durga nagging at the edge of my consciousness all day and I haven’t known what to do with her besides get her picture out.”

“Isn’t she a Hindu Goddess?” asked Alex.

“Yes, one of the early ones. Some say the very first Goddess, Mother of the Universe,” replied Ursula, moving to the mantle to retrieve a colorful postcard of a many-armed woman in a bright red sari, bedecked in gold. “See, she’s riding a tiger, though some say it was a great lion. Durga means ‘invincible.’”

“Somebody get Ursula a cup of hard cider,” said Pia.

“And grab her feathered rattle from the bucket under the window,” added Charley.

Ursula settled her blue power shawl on her shoulders, and took a goodly swig of the potent apple drink made last year from the Benden Farm trees. Her hands began the rhythmic shaking of the rattle that was one way of put herself into deep storytelling mode. Her voice went all dreamy.

“Durga came to the rescue at a time when our world was in very bad shape. The demons of lust, greed, discontent, and jealousy were in ascendency. Everyone was at each other’s throats, often literally. The crops were poor because of quarreling over boundaries and how to apportion the harvest rather than folks putting their energy into the good of the whole. The markets were full of shoddy goods because artisans had become sloppy, more concerned with making a profit than in providing something beautiful to last many lifetimes. Villages were fighting with each other. Half the people hung around idle with little in the way of skills to make their way. Nor were there entrepreneurs to provide capital or employment. Priests were preaching the value of obedience, yet dispensations could be bought, and in the shadows many so-called holy men were cuckolds and molesters. Inebriation from various substances was rampant and too many cared more for their next fix than they did for the health of their family or fields or a craft. Governing bodies argued endlessly over turf and spoils, while petty despots both official and unofficial held sway. The trustworthy were few and far between, even within one’s own family where ‘power over’ was more important than care and consideration and nurturing. Rape, one of the worst forms of ‘power over’ others was common….”

“Sounds like today’s world,” a voice interjected interjected.

“Hmmm, it does doesn’t it,” Ursula replied with a twinkle. “In most versions of the story, the rampaging demons are characterized as enormous ogres and ghouls – great frothy mouthed, ugly beings with fangs and warts and pudgy groping fingers. Many were winged. When they went into battle they rode monstrous, many headed steeds with scrambled animal parts including terrible talons, hooves and tails. But I think a case could be made that the world was filled, just as it is now, with ordinary people, both the powerful and the downtrodden, who were caught in abusive cycles and had lost their way.

“In any case, the gods decided to incarnate in order to intervene. They recruited cadres of souls who still had a conscience to form armies to fight the nasties. Now to me many images come to mind. It could be seen as a kind of Onward Christian Soldiers thing, marching off to war…. men and women armed to the teeth to fight the bad guys…. even if they were your own neighbors…. Or perhaps it was in the form of NGO groups like Doctors Without Borders, our own CASAs who work with abused and neglected children, or Gameen banks making micro loans in villages. It was undoubtedly also courageous souls acting alone with random acts of kindness and bravery, both planned and spontaneous.

“Any way you want to look at it, they were mostly unsuccessful in the larger picture and both sides fought themselves to a stalemate. Oh, the good guys had a few victories here and there. Saved a child, rehabilitated a substance abuser, helped a woman create and market a clothing line that brought prosperity to one little hamlet. In other words, the demons were fought into corners occasionally for short periods. But mostly, the abuse and power wielding went on and on. Some on both sides got killed or maimed but the bad guys continued with their rapacious ways.

“One propitious spring, despite feeling hopeless, the gods concentrated their energies for one last try. This time, by some miracle, flames poured from their mouths and Durga – the many armed – sprang forth.

“Although produced by the gods, she was stronger than any of them, or even all of them together, and she was eager to fight. Fierce eyed, her ten muscled arms wielded magical sword, spear, bow and, interestingly, a lotus flower. She mounted a lion (some say it was a tiger) to ride toward the demon’s chief, the evil Mahisa. In the ensuing fight, Mahisa changed forms many times but was unable to prevail. Finally even though he assumed the form of a buffalo much larger than she was, Durga was able to slay him, freeing the earth of his energy. But on they came, more and bigger monsters.

“So like Neo in The Matrix, she flew at the enemy and won many victories…. Even taking on the Evil Warrior King himself in a last hand to hand combat. Did they have laser guns and kung fu moves? Something like that anyway.

“When it was all over, the evil ones lay vanquished. A sweet air blew over the lands. Durga with her helpmeet Kali Ma (who some say sprang out of Durga’s head) were triumphant. The people and the gods rejoiced, of course, and asked Durga to stay on Earth to rule over them. A benevolent despot sounded pretty good after all they had been through. But Durga declined, saying that she preferred to go back to her heavenly kingdom. After much begging from the people she finally promised to return whenever they really needed her. Not just sorta needed her. But really needed her.

“Durga, it’s time!” said Pia, her voice strong and clear.

“It might well be,” said Ursula. “But I’m thinking that in this round we all need to be Durga. Perhaps everyone was Durga then too. Or maybe she really was a being come down from the sky to help. But this time…..” Ursula’s rattle moved for a few more ever slower rounds…

“It’s like the Hopi saying, ‘We are the ones we’ve been waiting for,’” came a quiet voice.

“Or the idea that the Second Coming of Christ is the energy Jesus manifested appearing in all of us…. “ offered Charley as he got up to put on a CD at Ursula’s whispered request.

“This is Durga Pahimam by Jai Uttal,” said Ursula. “Let the chant fill you and rock you to sleep.”

“Hey Ma Durga, hey Ma Durga, hey Ma Durga Pahimam……” the melodious, deep, resonant voice intoned. Ursula could feel the group slipping into a trance that would soon become dreams. “And let’s make the intention that we use the energy of this night when the veils are thin to dream of manifesting, no…dream of BEING Durga. May all the brambles clear away. We can share about what comes through first thing in the morning before we get up.”

“Sounds good.”

The silence among them deepened while everyone nestled down, and letting the music seep in, set their minds on that intention.

“Nigh’ night, all.”

“Sweet sweet dreams.”

First Class

“Now that we’ve grounded and called the directions, we have made ourselves ready for our work,” said Ursula to the seven women and five men who sat on backjacks in a circle on her living room floor. In the center was a simple altar of four candles and a central figure of a small blue ceramic bear and some newly fallen alder leaves. “Thanks, Owen Logan for being here tonight to help me anchor the space.”

“I’m thinking I might want to teach this someday so I thought I’d tag along with my mentor here.” Owen grinned at Ursula.

“Mentor, ha! Don’t let him fool you. This one goes deep. He knows a lot and we have grown with it together. Why don’t the rest of you start introducing yourselves and say a little about why you are here.”

“I’m Rhea. I live at Benden Farm where I listen to Cali and everyone talk about all this. I figured it was time for me to dig a little deeper.”

“I’m Mariposa. I’m an intern for the PSU program so I really don’t know any of you or much about this? But I think it might be why I came to this community? Like, I thought I was coming for the sustainability stuff, you know? Saving the earth and permaculture and recycling? That’s important and I really love helping to make changes happen here? But the mystical side seems to underlie a lot of this for you guys,” She nodded at Ursula and Owen and shedding the question marks in her syntax, said firmly, “so I want to know more.”

“The spiritual is indeed a foundation for what we do, though it is rather a chicken-and-egg thing. Can any of us really say which came first? The practical is so intertwined with the Spirit level,” said Ursula. “When I look around this circle I can guess that some of you come out of your experiences in the everyday and some have touched into psychic, dreaming or other realms that may lead to some different involvements in the so-called ‘real’ world. Remind me to bring those connections to light as we talk in the coming weeks. Thea?”

“I am new here too and I fall into that latter category,” responded the sole black person in the room. “It was in answering a call to know myself more deeply, that I fell in love with the Goddess a few years ago and was led to a new style of painting. Since moving down here I’m learning about the earthy, woodsy aspects of all this. Oh and community. I’m the opposite of where you’re coming from, Mariposa. I’m not very P.C. when it comes to technology and giving stuff up, but my psychic perceptions are blooming. It’s almost scary. Plus ever since the women’s Demeter-Persephone Ritual I can’t seem to get enough of ritual in my life.”

“You’ll give us another sort of balance, especially as you come to this from deep within and through a lot of trial and error in your life. June said she’d be willing to come for a couple of sessions to teach us about the psychic pieces to it all.” Ursula turned to the next person in the circle.

“My name is Uriel and I’m a newbie to the community as well, though not to the magical. I play didge and I have a healing touch and I want to go deeper. My partner is Michael DeAngeli who runs the PSU Sustainability adjunct campus here.” There was a chorus of “ooohs” and smiles from most of the group either because they knew Michael or the program.

“Uri is trained in natural healing techniques. Can you tell us a little more about that?”

“I don’t actually have much formal training. I’m not a naturopath so I don’t know a lot about supplements and herbal remedies. Probably not nearly as much as Owen here. And I’m not a chiropractor so I don’t do spinal adjustments and I’m not a massage therapist so I can’t legally work on a naked body. I’m not even a certified Reiki practitioner, but I do general energy stuff that I’ve picked up along the way from various teachers and workshops….” He paused to gather his words. “I feel like I need to put what I know into a general context and begin to develop allies and compadres so I can see how I might want to set up a practice of some sort here…. maybe in conjunction with others with more formal training and maybe even – this is a dream of mine – with the regular medical establishment. This class,” he said smiling, “seemed like a good next step. I am so grateful to be in this place and with you people.”

“I’m sure between this group and other folks you meet in the near future, you will find a productive niche for yourself here. It will be interesting to see how your path develops. And you’ll be right at home with our first exercise tonight and have lots to teach us all I’m sure!”

“I’m Janna. I’m the Conservancy Trust caretaker and permaculture gardener. I can feel the gardens calling me to be more consciously spiritual. I do a little on my own.” Her voice rose in her effort to convey what she was feeling. “I call the directions and sort of pray when I plant and weed so that I take and leave the right ones. But it’s time for more exposure to formal ritual. Plus I need more tools.”

“Planting and weeding are very Kali Ma things to do,” said Ursula. “She’s the many armed, very complex, fierce goddess from India who knows when to cut and when to comfort.” She turned to the next person. “Welcome, Gabe. I didn’t realize you’d be coming. You give us the requisite thirteen in number.” Ursula put a teasing emphasis on the idea of a required witchy quorum.

“I’m pretty skeptical about all this but it calls me too, you know?”

“Every class needs its curmudgeon. I honor you for coming in spite of that. You’ll probably ask some of the most thought provoking questions. Marsha, I’m so glad you could come.”

“Marsha Quince. I am a retired corporate executive.” She said this almost defiantly. “I’m probably in Gabe’s camp. Skeptical. But I’m looking for something new in my life and you people all seem so interesting. I don’t know much about any of this.”

“I’m Marsha’s husband, Ken. I’m also retired. From sales. I’ve been having a lot of strange dreams recently and this seemed like a good way to connect in.” He turned to the young woman on his left.

“I’m Ariel. I lived here when I was little and now I’m back!”

“Yay!” said Ursula and several others. “It’s so cool that you’re returning to the roots of your birth on the Mountain. I have no doubt that the Mountain called you back and that we’ll all benefit from your return.”

“I’m Fern. I used to be married to Gabe,” she grinned at him, “And we share Anise, our little girl who goes to Illahee where Rhea teaches. And now I’m with Jay, here.”

“I’m Jay and besides being with this pixie, I’m also Ursula’s oldest offspring. I am apprenticing as a brewer in Klatsand. I grew up with all this as Mom and Owen and the others of the Medicine Circles were exploring it. So in a way I know a lot, but I don’t exactly know what I know. If you know what I mean….”

Everybody laughed.

“Obviously we have all levels of experience,” Ursula continued. “There is no such thing as dumb question. We each know different aspects and we’re all here to garner from each other. I guarantee I will learn some new things from you all and the questions you ask.”

Ursula took a deep breath to launch into the next phase of her rough outline. “It seemed appropriate to have our first class in this Halloween-Samhain window. Spelled s.a.m.h.a.i.n. in the Celtic tradition but pronounced sow’-en. It’s the pagan holiday that comes halfway between Fall Equinox and the December Solstice. It’s one of the cross-quarters, the time in this Northern hemisphere when everything is dying back and we launch into the dark to compost and renew. Thus it is often called the ‘Witch’s New Year.’” She grinned inside as she watched Marsha pick up her notebook and pen.

“I thought Spring Equinox was the time for making the next year’s intentions,” said Janna, thinking of the plants.

“Spring, of course, is also a time of new beginnings and many people consider the Vernal Equinox the most appropriate point to start the round. I’m sure that makes a lot of sense for you as a gardener. Personally, I think of the Winter Solstice as that time because it is the darkest moment and is associated with our Gregorian calendar New Years. I think of the year as going upwards from there.

“But don’t forget,” she said as an aside, “it’s all opposite in the Southern Hemisphere. For them Winter Solstice comes in June so the calendar New Year is when they are experiencing the peak and then dying back of the light…”

“The point is that it’s a circle, a sacred wheel of the year that goes round and round, with no real beginning or ending. You can also think of it as an upward unfolding Spiral. Each time we go around we are further along and further up (hopefully). The sequences of tarot cards do this as well. It’s like how in high school we reach the senior level and graduate, only to start over again as freshmen in college or apprentices in the wider world.

“This class is partly about learning to be in touch with those cycles as they play out in the year and in our lives – the astrological and astronomical as well as the earth centered ones. It’s about how we celebrate and how we can explore the caverns and mysteries of ourselves and this place – both locally and in the wider world.

“Shaman, healer, witch, wisewoman, greenwitch, and now teacher. These are all words that define me and are clues that I dwell with the sacred cycles and their blessings,” said Ursula.

“Those words define me too,” interjected Owen. “Well, maybe not ‘wisewoman.’ Can I be a wise man? I guess so.”

“What does Wizard really mean but ‘wise man’?” suggested Jay.

“Bingo,” said Ursula. “We all become wiser over time as we tune into nature and what it really wants of us. Not just nature as we have been taught but the super-natural as well, the unseen parts. That which is behind the veils. The occult, which, not so incidentally, means ‘hidden.’ So much is coming together as we enter the New Age, the Age of Aquarius. It’s both exciting and scary to be opening to all this. Luckily there are guides we can learn to call on who are actually just waiting to be invited to aid us. With Owen’s help we’ll do some deeper work together in another class finding these spirit helpers, whether they be angelic, bird, animal, stone or tree.

“One of those I particularly relate to is Grandmother Spider, known as the Creatrix in many American Indian traditions. I have this feeling that we’re all in the midst of this vast web spinning out of her center that is too complicated for us to see in more than tiny, tiny bits. Thus Eagle who flies high and can see the big picture, turns up a lot for me to confirm when I’m in touch with powerful Medicine on behalf of the whole. Lately I’ve been experiencing Goldfinch who, according to Ted Andrews’ book Animal Speaks, helps us connect with nature spirits and leads us into inner realms. Elk helps ground and center me – connects me to the earth through its four strong legs and, since it’s a herd animal, to my Tribe. According to Jamie Sams, Elk also is about stamina.” Ursula swept her arms around the circle to include them all.

“Tonight, however, I want to invoke Bear who is a particular friend of mine to connect us to our inner healer selves and particularly our healing hands. I believe we are all healers. We do it in many different ways but this “handy” appendage can give us tangible evidence.

“So! First exercise: each of you hold your hands together and feel their temperature. NowOwen Or Grape pull them a little ways apart – about an inch,” she said as she demonstrated. “Now move them slightly farther and a teeny bit closer, not touching, but so that you can begin to feel a little buzz between them. If it feels appropriate you can rub them together vigorously for a little more oomph.”

She watched as amazement broke out on some people’s faces and consternation on others. “If you can’t feel  anything, that’s okay. Just keep playing with it. Chi energy is present whether you feel it or not. Experiment to see how far you can stretch it apart. Can you make it into a ball? Try throwing it back and forth between your hands.”

Some people obviously got it. “I see it as a blue energy,” said Rhea. “But then I’ve done this before.”

“Bravo. I can’t see  it visually myself but I know others who do. Can anyone else see it?”

Fern nodded shyly with wonder on her face.

“I thought you might be able to. Okay everybody, pick a partner and take turns putting your hands on each others’ heart…”

After a bit, Ursula reassembled the group into one circle. “The heart is a good place to start because even if there is something else obvious going on – stomach ache, sprained ankle, grief – the heart is usually the source and the most important part to be healed – or at least to give energy to. Who’s willing to share their experience?”

“I felt a warm glow where Jenna had her hands,” said Mariposa wonderingly.

“That’s good to hear,” said Jenna, “because I couldn’t feel anything from my end. Though I did notice that she took a deep breath and seemed calmer.”

“Perfect you two,” said Ursula. “If you can’t see anything spectacular, and most people can’t, then you rely on the subtle clues. And Receiver, if you feel something tell your Giver. Not necessarily in the moment but afterwards at least. You never know what little thing you might be able to corroborate and thus strengthen them. How was it for you, Uri?”

“I’ve done it before, of course. I rarely see anything either, unless the person is a really strong empath themselves, but I get an almost electrical tingling in my hands when I’m at the right place and the energy is flowing. Sometimes that feels blocked between us and then I have to be careful not to get kinda shocked if it bounces back on me with… with sharpness. Tonight I could feel it more strongly on Jay’s front heart than his back heart. I sensed that chakra as really open and trusting, but there is something lingering in his shadow side we might want to look at later.”

“That’s interesting,” said Jay. “I’ve been feeling a little oppression recently like something old is trying to get out. I’d love to work more on that with you.” His mom nodded.

“I couldn’t feel anything,” said Marsha. “It was really frustrating. This stuff is harder than I thought.”

“Don’t get discouraged. It’s only your first go at it. I’m sure you’ll feel more successful as we practice these things. And ironically sometimes “trying” too hard can block the very energy that wants to flow here. But remember also,” she said to the group, “some of you will be good at this particular aspect and others will pick up more easily on other things we do. I’m sure even Uri will hit some snags here and there.”

“So your homework for the next time is to bring things for the altar representing each of the four directions as I called them tonight: East as Air, South as Fire, watery West and Earth in the North. (Other traditions have other elemental correspondences.) We can’t discuss it any more tonight as there isn’t time but please bring items that seem appropriate to you and we’ll work with them next week. Remember there are no “right” answers. Most things can fit into all of the categories so go with your instincts of the moment.

“And speaking of the moment, on the shelf there next to our family portrait I have placed what I am calling a Begging Bowl. Put your payments for the class in there. Remember that although the suggested donation for the class is $10, you can put any amount more or less in the bowl, including nothing. I’m practicing a new way of collecting and charging that is called Dāna in the Buddhist traditions. That’s a Sanskrit word that means generosity or giving and receiving as a spiritual act. So put in whatever feels right for today. I am grateful for your presence.

“Blessings on our journey together. Thank you to the inspiration of the East, the heart & web energy of South, the water in the West for bringing forth our unconscious, and the Bear and our ancestors of the North. Namaste.” Ursula put her hands together in prayer position and bowed to the circle, who, of course, bowed back.

Owen at the Tree 2

Owen’s mind reached to the roots of the tree, down, down their hugeness…. journeying…. out onto the plain of the Underworld…. The sun is overhead here, a warm breeze blowing. A hummingbird, impossibly iridescent chartreuse and red, buzzes at eye level, then darts off, only to return again. Does it want him to follow? It hovers now over a gigantic datura plant. Owen moves towards it sniffing and feels its spirit kiss him before it sends him on his way. A cluster of tiny psilocybin mushrooms waves him over. Suddenly elfin himself, he sits like Alice in Wonderland at the foot of one, marveling at its subtle beauty, conjuring for a moment the delicate tracery of form and color that particular Medicine provokes. Before long, however, he salutes the fungi and turns again towards the sound of the hummingbird behind him. His wee guide is now looming as large as a goose over a stand of Devils Club whose few enormous spiky leaves are the browning yellow of autumn. His heart speeds in his chest. He’s been asking to make this connection. Is he ready for what these dangerously prickled sticks have to tell him? He fingers the aventurine still somehow in his pocket in this the Spirit World.

When it comes it is not at all what he expects. slide3

“I am the sharp surprise in the woods. I am Pan,” booms the plant. “They cast me as the Devil and are afraid of my power. My cloven hooves and randy ways are confusing to this world that wants to control everything – to dam rivers, mine veins and bludgeon trees into planks. In real life you can’t touch me in this form. But here in the Underworld you can rub against the brazenness of my stickers with impunity.”

“I won’t be filled with their diabolical torture?”

“They will spur you. Acupuncture for your dormant inner eye, the pineal gland asking to be awakened. Another re-membering of your body parts for the tasks ahead. No need for actual touch on the earth plane. An essence made in my presence will serve as a goad, a guide, a guardian. You are a Green Man yourself. Orion hunts with you, the Dog Star Sirius at his side. Chiron – the wounded healer – is calling for you. Listen….”

Turning towards a sound, Owen sees a centaur – half man, half horse – gallop towards him over the hill. Blood is dripping from scores of arrow wounds. “Heal me,” says the creature, “Heal me before they fester that I may heal others that they may heal still more.”

Owen stands baffled and overwhelmed.

“You know how.” Is it the Devil’s Club or is it Pan? It is hard to tell as they shimmer in and out of each other. “Puncture wounds will scab over but sometimes must be lanced to give the pus a vent. Call on me when you Journey and my Medicine will energetically find and open up the crusts whether they are visible scars or ancient and far under the surface. Do this for yourself and for him. You came into manhood in the war in the same era as the discovery of the asteroid Chiron in the sky. Your warrior wounds are the same.”

Reaching his hands towards the Centaur, Owen feels energy fizz back and forth between them, until the man/horse dashes off.

“You are one who shows the way, Owen.” The Devils Club speaks gently now. “With my lance and the Tarot’s Hermit lantern held high, you search out overgrown byways. You know how to lead your blindered compadres down the paths of this green world to find their wounded places, lost parts, their shadow selves. It is time now to grow into your power as a shaman. Be the Scorpion who knows when to sting and when to salve. You have done the background work. You need only open another degree to my energies. Let me in. Let me light the fires of seeing in your brain.” His voice booms again. “The coals of healing blaze in your hands. The sparks of regeneration smolder in your cock. No need to make more babies. But you do need to make magic and your cock is a fine tool for that. Your hands will touch and heal. Your cock will light fires of inspiration and healing as well.”

Owen feels his prick shrivel with the thought. This is not what he was imagining for his future. “I’m hardly a horny kid anymore….”

“Ha!” shouts Pan. “You fear. You would stay hidden. Too late for that. Rise to your potential. Fulfill the promise you made to yourself when you were born in this place!”

Owen bows his head in acquiescence and feels the sting of thousands of teeny barbs…. His hands fall off and lie twitching on the ground. His lungs gasp, his teeth rattle and his heart pounds so hard it jiggles open the door on the locked ribbed cage it lives in. Seizing its moment for freedom his coeur, his corazon jumps out of his chest into the sword ferns where it morphs into a dove who sits preening in the moonlight. “Have so many hours gone by?” and “Not a dove, it must be a band-tailed pigeon.” His rational self asserts itself for a moment. But not for long.

His penis begins to pulse and glow with a strange blue light as if electrified from within. Snakelike, it grows and grows until it passes the moon. It stretches even further until it enters VenusIsisAstarteAphroditeInanna who is sparkling voluptuously, high in the dawn of this magical place where time zigzags about as madly as his body parts. “Welcome home,” the Goddess of Love whispers happily. “It’s been ages.” She writhes and moans as he enters her labyrinth. Who knows how long they dally in delight, hearts open and connecting, until eventually millions of dancing beings spray forth from their orgasms, their energies scattering to fertilize new generations of seers and healers. Venus whoops and Owen roars in ecstasy. He is MarsJupiterScorpio Rising, gloriously alive. His legs goat-like and hoofed. His hairy chest and taut belly heaving with emotion. Mossy tendrils curl from his beard up around his face and hair. Violets cheer and lilies bow to his presence. A grouse rises up in a whirr of surprise then spins its spiral dance at his feet. Is that a wizard’s peaked cap on his head?

As he notices the hat, his energy begins to deepen and quiet. He stands tall and clear-eyed, feeling his roots in the earth while silvery energy lines curve between him and the people of his community. The ones he grew up with, the ones he’s called in. Yes, he has called them in with the help of this Tree and the Mountain. He knows that now…. His strength is in the marriage of moon and sun in this green place…. He must find the Council Fire…. and the Others….

…..He rises and starts down the hill towards town, but before he has taken more than a few steps, sleepiness blurs his sight and his intention slips beyond his conscious knowing.

He curls instead into the lap of the Grandmother Tree. His penis nestles sweetly limp on his leg like a tired child. Cooing, the dove that is also his heart pierces his chest and roosts in his left ventricle. His hands, inscribed with strange markings, inch over like worms and zip into the cuffs of the green leather shirt he now wears. His eyes are heavy with all that he has seen. Someone covers him with fern fronds and moss…. The Moon smiles from directly overhead. The Sitka whispers sweet dreams of deer nuzzling his cheeks. He sighs feeling safe again. While the Mountain….

The Mountain’s hummm becomes louder, vibrating Owen’s newly reconnected organs and body parts. He doesn’t hear it consciously himself, but his being absorbs the love and caring of the gigantic energy of this place. Somewhere deep inside he senses welcome and thanks for his work of the night and for the long years of his tenure here, as well as for his ever-growing consciousness. It isn’t entirely peaceful however. Those energetic prickers from the Devils Club are still working in his system. His body registers the spurs as if it is a horse and rider on an urgent mission. A centaur?

 

Down at the house June wakes slightly, noting the louder than usual hummmm, and turns over to dream again.

 

Cindy hears it too and wonders what is stirring. She is often aware of the Mountain’s gentle pulse though she’s never told anyone about it. Tonight it is crescendoing like it does when something big is afoot. There are almost words to it. “Wake to the call…. Sitka, Cedar and I, we need you awake…. River and Bay need you…. Raven and Eagle need you….”

Does that mean she should be doing something or is the message for another? Plural or singular “you?” She suspects with a feeling of dread that it is for all of them and that she needs to share the message. That is way too scary a thought….

 

Startled awake, Uri hears the hummm for the first time. Is it an engine starting up? A log truck downshifting on the highway? He glances at the clock. 2 am is an odd time for any of those possibilities and it is going on way too long. The Coast Guard rescue helicopter? The refrigerator? He can feel it deeply in his body now and as he settles into it he realizes the sound is coming from below him. From the earth itself. He tunes in another degree, calming his rational brain from its tentative explanations. Words begin to form in his mind. “Welcome Home…. What took you so long? Now get to work….”

“I’d better talk to someone about this. I wonder who.” He knows that Michael, snoring gently beside him, is not a good candidate for hearing about the weirder stuff. It is time to find some allies in this new place in order to bloom that side of himself. Finally connect with Ursula? He’s been putting that off. Or Cali…. Things they’d said at Harvest Fest had made his ears prick up….

 

Owen opened his eyes with the first bird chirps. Robins even this late in the season, and a flicker. A gentle rain was falling on his sleeping bag. He didn’t remember getting into it. He lay there still warm inside, feeling the glow of his connection with the tree. There had been more but he couldn’t quite recall…. A dream about…. Pan? Seems like he should take on some clients for shamanic journeying work. And maybe he’d collect the last of the rosehips and make some necklaces to sell at Bear Essentials. Was it time to make a Devils Club essence? It would surely strengthen his green self.… He felt strong and clear…. If only he could remember the wisps of the dreams teasing at the edges of his consciousness.

By the time Owen arrived back at Sitka House he was soaking wet and ready for a shower and some breakfast. He hoped that Cali or somebody had dropped off eggs. He needed the protein. As he stepped in the door, he was greeted by June at the kitchen table, sipping her tea from a delicate Limoges cup, her wispy white hair all a-tumble about her shoulders.

“I dreampt about you,” she said without preamble in her straightforward way.

“Did you now?”

“It was a Capital Letter dream. The kind that says, ‘Listen up!’ I saw you in a glade dressed all in different shades of the forest like an elderly Robin Hood, but with a strange blue light coming from your crotch. You morphed into a stag and winked at me before dashing off. It felt all merry-merry-in-the-greenwood. I followed you and found a maypole in another clearing with the ribbons woven and nobody around except for some ravens peering at me from the trees. I wondered if it was the ravens themselves who wove the ribbons or if it was some of us. Or us in raven form…. Oh and there were owls there too.”

“Did you take any meaning from the dream? It feels rather phallic for an old Lesbian like you.”

“Not for you though. What’s stirring there, Mister?”

“I did have a wild Journeying session last night up at the Grandmother Tree where I saw Pan and Devils Club in the underworld but I can’t remember what they told me except that they are linked somehow.”

“Pan. Robin Hood. Peter Pan. The green playful ones want you to join them more often. You need to be going deeper, Owen. The ravens want us to play with magic and owls call us both to see into the shadows – maybe even into death. The gates of Shamanic death anyway. And they want you to open your heart, to let the community have more access to you. No more hiding your gifts of connection and healing. I just remembered there were vines coming out of your hands, and runes. Sure signs of healing energy.”

Owen grunted, increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation. “I’ll do some journaling this morning to see if anything more comes up. If it stops raining by this afternoon I want to go back up and make an essence from the Devil’s Club root near the clearing while the moon is still full.”

June watched him leave the room, thinking there was something different about him. Some change had happened during his night in the woods that he wasn’t entirely aware of yet. He smelled intriguingly of magic and rue. Had he been dancing with the Goat Footed God himself? About time.