She felt the rise in her belly, the swell of excitement that could only be found within crashing waves.
She let herself be pulled, a calling with more depth and more intensity than mere curiosity.
He took her hand in his and led her to where the sea meets the earth, asking her to dive down deep under those dark waves. He looked back to her face, fearing to see trepidation in her eyes.
But he gazed into the grey of her eyes, grey that matched the rising surf, and he saw wonder.
She let him lead her down to the shore, down to let the rolling foam greet their toes.
She smiled to him, a shy crook of the mouth that set his heart to racing.
He knew then, in that moment, that he would make her his queen. He would let her choose, though, and let her roam freely between sea and stone.
He moved her onward into the rising tide, never letting go of her slender hand. And every time he turned to look after her, she pushed him ever onward with the shine in her eyes and the curve of her lips.
Together they entered the sea, down down down into the murky depths of his watery domain. Down to the realm of selkies and sirens, down to the gates of his hall in the heart of the ocean.
She breathed the deep blue of salt water into her lungs, and was transformed.
Seals and rays greeted her in welcome, dolphins swam playfully around in large pods, their smiling faces belying their pleasure at her coming.
She rejoiced in her newfound freedom, her newly acquired underwater flight.
I dreamed this dream of wooded wilds, dripping moisture in the grey air. The Earth’s many scents release when the rain drops onto pine needles and oak leaves. The pat-pat sound of the rain on the palmetto fronds is familiar in my mind.
I rise from my bed, surrounded by quiet and the familiar hum of the ceiling fan. It is early morning, the hour of in between twilight just before dawn, and I hear a voice. A man’s voice outside. From deep inside the dark cool trees, his voice travels out to me. I know that voice.
I wander out of the house, at odd morning hours. My bare feet padding down the lawn leading to the edge of the woods. I hear a crow, the rain, and his voice calling to me.
So I enter that wild realm of insects, birds, spirits. The wild god who waits for me.
He calls to me again, his voice warm and dark as fertile soil. My pulse thickens inside my skin. Shivers tremble up and down my spine, but still I long to find him.
I wander with soft steps on sacred ground. The smells inundate me, decay and life and rain. I weave through the thick trunks of ancient trees, winding thickets of brush and bole, over roots jutting out on my path.
And then I find him. He waits for me by a stream. The sounds of pipe and drum hit me then, though he holds no instrument in his hands.
His face is unmistakable, though I only ever see it in dreams. He whispers my name, and I approach his perch above the swirling water.
“Look,” he tells me. “Your strength is in this shadow, buried beneath the birch tree.” He smiles a cryptic smile, as a teacher might to his student who is working out the solution to something in her own mind. There are no birch trees here.
He reaches his hands out to me, and I take them in mine. His hands are warm and rough, mine cold and unsure.
He pulls me to his body, his warmth, his earthly knowledge. He smells of pine and soil and the decay of leaves.
His mouth covers my own, and I suck him in, all the scents and senses, the knowledge and heat.
Then I wake. I’ve had this dream before. It’s as if this vision, this dream message and messenger are begging for clarification. And I can’t seem to (or I’m not meant to) decipher it yet. But it’s always the same, always ends before the best part.
I like these dreams though, when I have them. They’re comforting and mysterious, as if my fate can be divined by some dream Being’s mood swings in the ephemeral world.
I have not lived this life without conflict, resistance, or chaos. I have lived with peace, joy, love, and harmony. Yes. But the darker shades of being are always present. Always sliding in rippling music underneath my skin.
My blood carries songs of days long past, and I welcome openly all the senses these musings gift to me. Even those of nightmares.
Fear is a gateway to transcendence. It makes us aware of the unwants along our strands of the Web. Fear calls our instincts to action.
Do we fight or run the other way?
I prefer to fight. This can take many forms: fighting through the negative fears and doubts to get to the positivity; fighting through a personal dilemma to come to a solution; fighting through a tragedy to heal emotional (and sometimes physical) wounds. There are countless ways in which we fight every day. Sometimes we run away from it all.
But the key to fear is that we should not fight against it (usually the thought of fighting against something bigger than ourselves is what causes us to run from our problems), but rather fight throughit. Fighting through rather than against is what helps us become more of ourselves. Fighting through that which we fear rather than against it is opening up to the possibilities of strength and growth. Fighting againstsomething is futile.
Change is ever constant, we can always count on it, and change offers ways to evolve and become stronger, better versions of ourselves. Fighting against change is pointless; fighting through that change and attendant fear is where we give ourselves the opportunity to come out the other side…changed.
Fear awakens our senses, our darker reptilian instincts that, in my spirituality, should be conquered. Fought through. Our base selves will call out to us: fight or run; and we must call on our higher selves to fight. To wage a war through the resistance that we don’t want. Fight to find the solutions, fight to overcome the fear of change, to fight through emotional doubts and challenges so we can become stronger and more ingrained in who we are, what morals we hold, and how we handle ourselves in future circumstances.
Never fight againstchange or challenge, but fight through it, and the obstacles will fall away.
A midst all the chaos and catharsis is an ultimate truth. A dissolution of an inferior way, a past recollection in which dreams will die. I had reached this place of perplexed peace, a new beginning of sorts, just as the moon came full. Lunar and water elements gliding around me. The death and rebirth of another astrological year.
It’s led me to where my path must cross a threshold of tiring and disjointed debris cluttered in piles along my desired way.
Truth must serve, now. Truth even in its ugliest moments. I must cut through the thicket. This beast within whose ferocity no longer serves me must die and rise from the ashes of an inferno not yet ready and frightened to be quenched. But the truth calls for a reckoning, a wandering eye to still and open, and a move into action all of the choices that have already been made.
I have to make a new path.
The Law & rightaction(justice)
The Law governs me, keeps me in check. Not modern society’s laws, though there is that–which honestly, I break those too– the law by which my very own nature cannot turn against. I make judgments and decisions based on as much knowledge as I have about myself and the world around me.
I must live by right action: if it does not serve me, I must cut it out. If it harms me or those I hold dear, I must cut it out. The truth in all things must never be broken. At least from me. I am a loyal person, a steadfast soul, sometimes to a fault. I cannot waver from the truth. It drives my actions. It is my Law.
Learning & challenging(Understanding & Wisdom)
It’s painful and it’s raw, the surrender to unseen forces. It’s consuming and comforting and terrible inside a stormy mind and heart. A fiery being who hides in Earth. But I’m learning. I draw inward to reflect on past and present and future.
Multiple strands intersect and part and cross throughout the Web, and I can feel it growing within my hair. The challenges these Sights bring are their interpretive messes that bind themselves as riddles to my heart.
But the general nature of navigating this Life is something of a comfort, a pleasurable experience, if indeed dappled with pain. We have so much at our fingertips, and I’m learning how to cope with that. I’m learning how to pause and understand before judgment. To understand there is no judgment.
We must return to the highest Source, for our Divinity is in the Stars, in the Sea, in the Soil. We must learn to govern our inner selves, to work outward with what we learn from doing so and use it to approach all things with love and understanding in our hearts.
But we must hurt in this learning. Transformation is nothing short of painful.
Though in this, as in all new cycles, is a cleansing burn that will open the way and make clear a path that, before, was hidden from view.
So we must learn to be as the Salmon and delve deeper into divine knowledge. We must travel the currents of life’s River, always seeking Truth through higher knowledge and learning. We must eat the proverbial hazelnut as often as it presents itself, and like the Salmon, be reborn through truth and justice.