The Old Gods, or New?

I was doing a little reading last night about shamanism:

[And just so you know, I will likely never get into the verbiage-ethics of the use of the word shamanism as it applies to the spiritual practice of awareness/traveling to realms not so bound by our physical natures. This unending debate is steeped in opinions about cultural misappropriation, appropriate language, and clear communication. Until we can agree upon a term that relates the general practices, we're stuck with the closest thing we've got. Don't complain about it if you're not going to offer solutions...]

Coming back from that tangent, whilst reading, I realized the spirituality of our ancestors that so many of us want to bring back to life within ourselves was largely centered around hunting, gathering and agriculture. In meditating on this, the gods of the natural world were the gods they spent all their time around. They were hunters who prayed to Cernunnos and animal spirits, they were farmers who prayed to rain. They were communities that prayed to fire. And yet, I cannot find a mythos where even the old gods aren't dead yet... The gods of Greece and Rome had long overthrown the Titans; replacing earth and sea with war, strategy, love and beauty. The Tuatha de Danann were overthrown by invaders, despite their magical prowess and respect for the earth, and were forced underground. The Vanir, gods of the natural world, along with the Giants, warred with the Aesir and lost, giving way to thought and prowess of the mind. They prophesied that there would be the final battle of Ragnorak, where the Aesir would die...

Did our ancestors even love the gods of old? Were the rain and wind too fearsome, the sea too grand, and the mountains too powerful? I'm writing this at work behind a desk, in the midst of my romantic notions of 'getting back to the land,' knowing how unfulfilling my busy life of work, laws and taxes is... Wishing I had more time for the gods, realizing that in surrounding ourselves with our comforts, they truly have been supplanted by the gods of wrath, wisdom, revelry and organization. What need have I for the gods of rain, sun and sea? I'm no fool, and I know how important they still are, but in our time they have taken a last-row seat to make room for other concepts such as justice, legislation, power, influence, money, education and intelligence. We have forgotten that we came from the elements, and created our own, new standard; replacing our origins with some future unknown, untested and unquestioned. Every generation takes steps further into technology and doesn't bother to ask why or what the consequences may be.

Is there a way to reconcile the old gods and the new? I am one person, can I slow the momentum of the new gods of humanity? Can I find my own middle ground? In every culture those gods are always at war... Is it healthy to move backwards? Can we take a break to ask the questions of where our species is headed and why? How relevant are the old gods when today humanity worships it's own idea[l]s?

My soul cries out and I can feel the current imbalance within myself; I struggle to find it even in just my own little spirit. Some feel that humanity should progress, but I am pulled much slower. I have never felt more satisfied than working hard to get the cows fed or the garden tilled and watered. But I was only blessed with moments; perhaps I'd feel different if that was my daily grind? Would it be more enriching? I won't know if I don't do it, but I only have so many years and then what?

The only answer I have is that if I am ever caught up in the war of the gods, be it in this life or long after, I know where my lot will be cast. Perhaps I am not the healer but the warrior? Or perhaps the warrior-politico, convincing Gaia to don her war-helm and fight back against our meager creations? But Gaia hasn't been known to choose sides, she has always sought balance... perhaps she will teach me to as well. Perhaps she will teach us.

Wolf Spirit guide me.
Earth Mother teach me.
Nature Father love me.
Ancestors grant me your wisdom,
As we have forgotten.

Spirits, Stones and 'Pagan' Ethics.

The ritual begins: She sits within a circle of her favorite crystals; amethyst, quartz, tigers eye. She lights her sage bundle and allows it to smolder before bathing in its cleansing smoke, beneath it holding all the while an abalone shell, ceremoniously catching the ash. She prays to the spirits for protection as she casts her circle to begin her magic...

So many books paving the way for so many of us into paganism, new-age mindfulness or mysticism begin the same: Here are the tools, symbols and techniques, make sure to practice, don't be too hard on yourself and reference the list of stones, herbs, animals, symbols and their associations in the back of the book when preparing for your work. Is it just me, or is the redundancy department of redundancy at work again? Not only are all the books seemingly the same (just pick your flavor; celtic, wiccan, druid, re-constructionist, new-age, etc.), their lists of tools, objects and their associations seem to be highly derivative.

Let's hold right here for a moment: I've not read all the books out there, and I've not scoured their information for copyrighted consistencies and nuanced variations. I'm speaking in very broad generalities. I'm not saying crystals are bad and that we should all stop using sage, but are these commonalities hindering our spiritual progress and/or incongruent with [many or our] beliefs of ecological conservation and equitable human rights around the globe?

Although I've not surveyed all the new-age and pagan shops in America to find out where they get their crystals, herbs and ingredients, I think I'm safe in claiming that many of those items are not endemic to our country; in many cases not found on our continent and certainly not found in our backyards or even local green spaces. Much of the amethyst comes from mines in Brazil, labradorite from Madagascar and diamonds from Africa. Sage, both Salvia apiana and Artemisia tridentata are endemic to the American south-west and west of the continental divide respectively. Dragon's Blood, a popular incense-resin for protection and cleansing, comes from Dracaena trees in Africa and Daemonorops from India & China. Were they sustainably harvested? Does our demand for these products create poor working conditions a sub-living wages for people we share the planet with?

I'm not trying to point fingers or even attempt to make a claim that the common tools/ingredients in American pagan culture are bad or good, I just want to ask if we know where they come from... Do we really have a solid understanding of what it took to get that incense burner carved, that sage bundled, or that rock polished and delivered to your door? Are we making the best decisions for the planet, humanity and ourselves? If we continue to use sage exclusively for cleansing, and cleansing exclusively with sage, are we maybe missing something?

My proposal is that we begin to look around ourselves and ask what tools, stones, herbs and ingredients we have available to us. What's endemic to the space I call home? Where I live there are some [geologically relatively] new lava formations; perhaps there are some stones right here whose spirits have something to offer my own growth. Is it possible that working with the spirits of native plants could be more potent and rewarding than with those that grew on the other side of the planet, dug up with who knows what respect or lack thereof, and shipped? Have we asked that question in prayer/meditation? How much more fitting would it be to use tools made by locals (or yourself) specifically for, and with the intention/mutual arrangement of serving your purpose, whatever that may be for that particular tool?

I'm not saying we shouldn't be using them. When I lived in the south-west, I was lucky enough to have white sage everywhere and would pick my own. I almost never bought any. The same for some of the other herbs I'd use. I also lived within a day-trips distance to some great rock-hounding areas where I could pick up jasper, agate and even opal if you knew where to look. I've never been a huge crystal person, but would occasionally find something that just seemed to want to come home and be incorporated into some meditation or ritual. Now I've moved and everything is new: The southwest is arid and the flora/fauna is much different than the woodlands of the northwest, and I'm always discovering new and amazing plants/animals. I still love white sage and not sure what I'll do when my stash runs out. A compelling argument can be made that we are a world-species and that we all have a little of this or that from either/or country and that on some level, our own spirits resonate with the spirits of the plants/animals there. But unless you live in Africa with the Dracaena trees, how much will Dragon's blood really help your spiritual work?

I feel that I'm personally much more enriched when I work with the spirits of where I call home; where we both coexist is where we can best understand and really know each other. That amethyst that was ripped from the ground in Brazil by a villager looking to make a quick $0.01 just doesn't have a whole lot in common with me. And I feel like I'm holding everyone to a higher standard of caring for the planet by not supporting that type of 'plundering.' I also believe that I'm holding myself to a higher standard spiritually by not taking 12 different authors' word that I need sage and quartz crystals for cleansing and protection, and looking around myself to seek and discover the hidden 'mysteries' of the spirits that I spend my life around. The inconspicuous piece of lava rock I find while hiking in the cascades region that burns in my hand and soul when I pick it up is going to be vastly more useful. It really forces me to take the time to stop and smell (and talk to) the proverbial - and sometimes literal - roses. And it opens doors for me to exercise being in the moment, knowing myself and being at peace with my surroundings.

All that being said, I must admit I love plants from around the world; I collect orchids and other beautiful houseplants. I've created spaces where they can come together in a sort of metropolis of life. Most, if not all have been greenhouse-propagated, but they still cary the spirit of their origins in tropical jungles, cloud forests and arid, outback summers. When I grow them well, their reward is transporting me in dreamtime to their inner and outer worlds of jungles and mountains. It has been a rich experience and I am truly blessed to know them.

I wish I'd read the book about discovering local plant, mineral and animal spirits and their benefits for myself when I first began my path into paganism. To their credit, many authors do mention this, but I feel a disproportionate amount of information, especially marketed to new pagans, is regurgitated and stifling in the long run. I will also acknowledge the benefits of beginning somewhere; if that's sage and quartz crystals, I only hope they are eventually led to something profoundly personal and grounding in their own peace. If your flavor of paganism is earth-based, and/or you consider yourself a champion of bio-conservation, I hope these thoughts have already entered your mind and that you have taken steps to balance your practice as well. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the matter...

Peace be with you,

Lonely Wolf

The Battle Continues...

Hi all, it's been a while. Lots of weird emotions to deal with. For a couple of weeks there I cried at least once a day. I've healed a lot but still have much to go. Only one person wrote me back from my ex-mormon/leaving the family letter (a cousin.)

Got a call from my brother who works in the military and we talked for quite a while. The subject turned to family and confirmed he still talks to our dad, who consequently showed him the letter I'd sent, so I know he got it. Turns out my grandpa died and no one told me. I don't even know when. It's so frustrating. I crave community. How can religion be so important that family is only tertiary?

Is part of my path here being without community? Is my community non-physical? Hopefully wolf spirit will have some lessons for me. When wolf calls for his pack does he howl in the midst of the trees or from a high place, overlooking the valley from whence he came?

Since my grandpa has died, I wonder where his soul wanders. Does he attempt to contact me? I've resigned myself to maintain distance from them for now, so I put up my walls with the parts of me that represent my own 7 directions. When I compare them to the universal elemental spirits, mine are broken: Water is too powerful and can't control the tides. Earth is afraid to move. Fire doesn't know what the others are doing, feels like it doesn't fit and tries to do go its own way. Air feels so helpless that it restlessly rips around in circles, conjuring thoughts that endlessly dovetail into others, creating whirlwinds of anxiety from possibilities that never come to be. Above wants to control them all and below wants to tear it all down. Within is a mess. [North (earth), west (water), south (fire), east (air), above (masculine), below (feminine) and within (wyrd, space, construct, etc.)] I must begin meditations again; beckoning to the universal elements in nature to help my own inner elements find their balance and place amidst each other. This work will be a foundation to later build myself upon; an anchor of sorts in the midst of our changing world. A place where I can always find my center.

I pray to the old gods for inspiration and wisdom. I pray to the animal spirits to teach me how to see what I've forgotten. I pray to the ancestors and elements to provide context. I pray for me, and for you; that as I find my way through the murky waters of our experiences, my metamorphosis will in some way assist/inspire you to perceive, behold and nurture your own potential, whatever you choose that to be.

Even in my pain I see beauty and know this bitterness will pass as all things do. I look to the future, your future and ours, and pray for a humanity united in our own unique centeredness.

I beckon to the Spirit of the Lotus. I go forward.

Goodbye Letter to My Old Church (Ward) and TBM Family

I have had a mind many times over the years to write many of you individually but each time found that revisiting my past was too painful. It has been twelve years since I have stepped foot in a LDS church. During this time I have met others who have had similar experiences to mine and it has been very difficult for me to discuss my own story. Some have become the best of friends, and we offer support for each other in any way we can. In my recent conversations with others, I have been reminded of my upbringing in the church; my culture, background and heritage and my family for better or worse.

No longer angry, I have come face-to-face with my past, and know that now is the time to confront it head-on, with unconditional compassion for myself: Mormonism is my culture, I was raised in the church, and most of my childhood pains as well as positive experiences were had there in some form or another. I am rebuilding an inner bridge to my own Mormonism, and accepting it in unconditional love so that I can transmute the pain I left there into purer intentions moving forward in my life. In doing so, I have realized that I never gave myself adequate space or time to grieve the death of all of the meaningful relationships I left behind in ward and family. I want very much to take this opportunity to reach out to you and express my gratitude to each of you for the various ways you've touched my life growing up.

Please share with the family as I don’t have everyone’s addresses and I’m sure by now so many cousins have grown up and are in college or married and moved out.

Although we had many differences growing up, and did not always get along, you are my family and I will never forget that and the significant part you played in my life.

I am certain that many assume I never returned to church or family due to the unfortunate events pertaining to my immediate family and the fracture that occurred there, and you would not be completely wrong, but this is only a partial truth.

I would like to relate to you all my real story and I only hope you will be enlightened about my own situation: I discovered I had same sex attractions (SSA) at about age 7. I did not yet know the church's stance on the matter as I am assuming it was determined that it was too adult of a topic for me at that age. I quickly became aware of the stigma with homosexuality both in and out of the church, however, and began to pray daily for my deliverance. After all, through fervent prayer, fasting and sacrifice I would be made whole again, right? I began to hate myself, thinking that my self hatred may be proportional to my becoming pure; destroying the SSA with my hatred of the sin. I went down a road of depression, and after a few years of this I had decided to end my own life. I knew I would never reach the Celestial Kingdom with the baggage that God would not see fit to take from me, and I could not bear the thought of being a false husband some day in a marriage to a Woman who would obviously deserve an honest, loving husband that could support all her needs. I was content with the Telestial and could no longer bear the shame of myself and what that would bring to my family. I will spare you the details of the events surrounding my unsuccessful attempt at finding the easy way out. Simply know that I could not perceive another way out of the depression, self-loathing and guilt. All I wanted was to be another one of the guys; to fit in and be as I thought God wanted me to be. Just before I turned 12 my parents discovered my same sex attractions and what ensued were terrible arguments in our family as to how to best deal with me.

I think my parents were afraid; maybe that's why one became so angry and the other so distant. I knew then I had lost my family and over the years I became more distant as I fit in less and less. I didn't get better. I hated myself every day. Even blamed myself for the downward spiral that ensued for my own immediate family. I lost hope. I sought refuge in rebelliousness and the small kindnesses of anyone else as I continued to die inside. I became burnt out from continually tearing myself down and shoving parts of myself in the dark corners of my soul so I didn't have to look at myself. Despite your kindnesses, I could not overcome my own self hatred, and something had to give. Based on the reactions of my parents and the negative stigma attached to persons with SSA, I just couldn't believe that you'd accept me as I was. So just before I turned 18 my parents got divorced and I left the church and everything associated with it behind..

It is now 12 years later and I am still learning to love, trust and accept myself. 18 years of telling myself I am not good enough eventually translated into the affirmation: I will never be good enough and I am worthless. So many of the words and verbiage used by the church in describing sins can be hurtful if we're not careful. To be clear, I do not see my same sex attractions as sinful or even wrong at this point in my life, and my intention is not to change your opinion of sin or not sin. I'm still viscerally aware of church leadership's position on the matter. Frankly, in my opinion, if God wanted me 'cured' he would have done so many years ago. Unless his intentions were to give me this burden to teach his people unconditional love? Unfortunately that still left me with Telestial, which I thought was unfair and not in line with church doctrine of free choice and repentance. I did not wake up one day and decide I would have SSA; I wanted quite the contrary with all my heart. To continue to fit into the family and Mormon community I was born into. I assure you it is the way I was born and is no fault of anyone. It merely is, and now I just want to be with someone I love and who loves me back. My new affirmation is that I am worthy.

I wanted to share this with you so that you might understand why I left overnight and never said goodbye, or took the time to thank you for the kindnesses you showed me in my time with you. My shame was too great and I could not bear to be honest with you so I ran. I was so afraid of being disowned by you that I just walked away as to avoid it. My biggest regret was never giving you the chance to love and accept me at least as a person and member of your family, in whatever capacity I had to serve you all, even if I'd never make it the Celestial or even Terrestrial kingdoms.

So I sincerely apologize to you all for not giving you that opportunity, and just assuming you would hate me as I hated myself. And I apologize for never properly thanking you for those kindnesses. I hope you understand and can find it in your hearts to forgive me.

The last thing I want you to glean from this letter is what complete non-acceptance of our brothers and sisters with same sex attractions does to our families and how divisive that non-acceptance is in the home. Even if we do not return to church, or cannot hold callings, I assure you we have just as much to offer in the family unit and overall community as our straight brothers and sisters. If you don't believe me then you've forgotten all the work I did, all the things I provided, despite my immaturity at the time, and the ultimate message of Christ, to love one another unconditionally. I hope you will take my story of SSA and seriously evaluate how you view and treat our brothers and sisters with SSA. We are your cousins, nephews, nieces, sons, daughters, grandchildren. And we are afraid you will hate us because of things we never wanted and never chose. We love you and even if we cannot reconcile our own lives with church doctrine, we want nothing more than to stay part of our families.

I hope I have provided some perspective on my life and that you never blame yourselves for any of my own shortcomings, I certainly don't. Thank you again for your kindness and being my family throughout my childhood and adolescence. I apologize for never allowing you the opportunity to be accepting and to show me you valued my contributions. And I hope you take a serious look at how you treat sin in general, especially SSA; taking into account how your actions in dealing with someone looking for your support can literally be a matter of life and death for them, as well as the real possibility of splitting up our families unnecessarily.

Mormonism Returns

I have been an ex-mormon now for right about 12 years. I left when I was just beginning adulthood, despite having grown up in the church. I left almost my entire family behind, except 2 brothers and my mom. None of the rest of them speak to me (and let's be real, we were mormon so there were a lot of them.) I tried born-again christianity for a couple years after that but eventually turned my back to organized religion and began to embrace my own sexuality (now mid-20's).

Fast forward to now, I've been talking to a long-time friend of mine who [I think] is older than me by a few years, and still isn't out. We always discuss our love for wilderness and the peace it brings us amidst our daily struggles. His struggles are different as he lives a life still very close to the church whilst I live mine in exile. There are great struggles with either choice, of course, and those struggles are areas we have found comfort in each others' stories and support. In doing so more consistently than we have in the past, for the last month or two, I have come to realize that there are a lot of unresolved issues I have with myself relating to my upbringing in the church. I've cried a bit and cringed many times with a lot of pain that's resurfacing just in the last couple days. One of the most difficult things was realizing that I don't know how to act in society. Mormon society was very standardized; you could attend any church just about anywhere across the globe and the verbiage, actions, schedules and even the lesson plans would all be just about the same. The people would act the same, have the same reactions to the same discussions, sing the same hymns and interpret uniformly the same scriptures. It was safe, secure, and I always knew what to do. When I left it was abrupt, almost overnight. I never saw myself doing so. I never grieved the deaths of all the relationships I'd known all my life. And according to everything I'd ever known, those were the only relationships that mattered since outside of the church relationships (be they friendships/acquaintances/other) were temporary since those people would never get to heaven and we were only supposed to spend time with them inasmuch as we were able to proselytize.

It only took me 12 years to realize that coming out as gay, and never going to church again is not dealing with [still the] majority of my lifetime's experiences and upbringing. I have a lifetime of cult-culture behind me making up and reinforcing everything I've ever known about the human existence, including how to treat myself and others. It appears I'm beginning a long process of healing to make up for this. If I'm honest, I miss the ease of having everything written down in a book; my life's instructions, and the standardization of culture: it was so easy, and I knew the system as well as any of them. But that's the problem inherent in that cult-system: There's no room for our differences, and our contributions are not valuable outside of supporting the machine that drains our souls to empty husks. I'm not wanting to go back (I actually can't according to doctrine without shedding my own blood whilst dying in sacrifice to save my soul - that's real doctrine, no joke), just acknowledging my feelings. So I'm acknowledging also that I don't know how to value my self, or others, in our diversity and apologize to the Universe for my short-sightedness. It was my tool to survive for my entire life as a child; everything I ever learned, and now it only serves to hold me down. I cannot be true and will never be whole until that attachment is dissolved. Then when I am whole I may be able to incorporate into society and provide my community with whatever gifts have been hidden by my lack of vision.

I am not embarrassed to disclose that as my mormonism returns, I am in the process of joining an ex-mormon support group, as one of the most difficult things has been surrounding myself with people who just don't understand what it means to have grown up in that culture. I am excited to seek friends with similar stories, who have also grown up in the church and left; knowing how we all used to walk, how we all used to talk, and supporting each other in our new journeys into the world community.

The Battle for the Soul: Part 2.

Well shit... So I called on every spirit being I've ever known and all that were interested that would help. Had quite a turnout. I got handed off back and forth quite a bit so not sure I remember who was who in any particular moment. Plus going into and coming out of the trance fucks with the memory quite a bit. We all met at the wall. Wolf spirit wanted us to find a way through, break away a small bit at a time and create a narrow breach into the unknown. Through this point, I can travel to and from, each time wearing down more and more until it disappears. Although not in disagreement, the shaman came from the shadows and in conjunction with the horned god of nature, took me straight up to the wall, turned me so my back was facing the wall and pressed me against it. They told me that the wall was put up with intention and would therefore be removed with intention. Facing into my known life, and without the illusion of vision, I perceived their message and with their help in modifying the way my spirit perceived, I saw the wall simultaneously as before and as it's own negative, intention. We switched to the negative perception and the wall faded completely for a few moments. It began to fade back proportionately with my recurring inhibitions; the reason for the wall in the first place. This is a time of great change and I must tread slowly as to not ensure I eventually transmute all of the intention to keep that wall, and that I don't venture too far past it when I do, until I have better control of my intentions for its existence.

I heard a voice nearby; the same child's voice that had called out to me before. I realized that it did not come from beyond the wall and exercised the same ability to perceive my environments negative that made the wall disappear. The world turned black in front of me except for a yellow-orange light emanating from a younger version of myself, battered and on his knees on the ground. I went to him to lift him up and he thanked me, saying that he'd been stuck there in that prison for so many years. He was very weak and the spirits that had come to help with the wall helped me hold myself up. We sat for some time together, face to face, and as the older me, showed my younger self [some of the] compassion I hadn't received then. We sealed our intention with a sensuous union of spirits, and I will continue to heal and integrate myself to wholeness. I knew then that I had locked myself away years before, hoping I would just change into something I wasn't in order to get the love I couldn't give myself from others in my life. There is much healing ahead, this part of me literally needs to receive the strength to walk again, and integrating a much less mature part of myself to an older me will be interesting to say the least. I know that the path must be compassionate and abundantly accepting.

I find it strange that I cannot recall whether it was the night before or after my soul journey, but I had a very disturbing dream: I was with a group of good friends in some wilderness location just doing whatever friends do, when we were attacked by gunfire. Helicopters, assault rifles, all the accoutrements of an all-out assault against my current state of being. After running for some time, loosing people on both sides, we finally glimpsed our attackers: 2 adolescent boys, about 12 years old. They started to shoot my friends where they were hiding, so I came out unarmed to confront them. I asked them what they wanted and why they were hurting us. Their answer is foggy but I remember they wanted to be known/recognized. I tried to be friendly and they seemed to respond fairly amiably. I got them to stop shooting at us but they told me I had to come with them. They said no one had ever been kind to them and that I needed to be their friend. The second boy went somewhere I couldn't see and so I stayed talking to the first. I realized he was me; a negative dream-aspect of myself saturated in so much enmity as to be willing to murder friends and my older-self. I did my best to provide as much compassion as possible to this younger me whilst in fear for my life at the volatile nature of his emotions. The dream memory ends there and I know the road to healing will be long, nuanced, delicate and difficult. It will take enormous courage but what other choice is there when I know I am to be made whole? [A rhetorical question, to be sure.]

The Battle for the Soul: Part 1.

This post is going to take a while, and I'll be updating it as often as there are opportunities to do so since this battle will take place over many campaigns...

I sniffed out the roots of the mighty hedge that separates my spirit, body and mind. Long ago the seed was sown and since has become unmanageable. Confronting this beastly barrier allowed an inspection of the enemy and my findings follow:

Daunting, enormous, interwoven with so many aspects of my perspective of reality. It's removal and eradication will be no easy or quick feat. It is not merely a matter of confronting a fear, accepting, loving, healing or any 'simple' action to transmute it and move on. This has become a part of myself. Although the idea originated from someone else, it became my own; I reinforced it and nurtured it, albeit unwittingly, for the last 25 years. It's like a bad relationship you've been in for [25] years, and you only now admit it to yourself. What do you do? It's easy to say let it go and move on, but it is so much more nuanced than that. I've identified with my wall for so long, doesn't it keep me safe from nightmares and demons; from the unknown? Knowing that safety and security are essentially illusory gives me strength. I know I created this wall and somehow I can take it down. But I'm afraid of vulnerability and change. What will I become? I've feared this death before and I can face it again if I must, although I know it isn't easy and certainly not fun... Perhaps I'm not meant to and never will be open to the spirit world? Perhaps it's not my path to see it as one and the same as I believe it to be? To that the shaman surprises me with a clear whisper to my mind, "You will." And with that, I accept in my heart that it is my path, and I prepare to face myself...

Stepping Down From Infinity and Wading Into Humanity.

It is dark and the snow has melted from the dripping rain, only to freeze again in the evening, leaving the earth encased in chunky ice. I drift into darkness with the warmth of my own body, trapped beneath layers of blankets that don't quite fit the bed. I drift into darkness slowly, putting my body to sleep, I intend to expand my consciousness. I drift in a dream and out again, I walk down a path but I can go no farther than where I stand. I can see the road ahead, and I can hear a voice calling to me, someone is lost and needs help; they need to be embraced and brought home. But I still can't go, my head stuck in position, my feet won't respond. I want to go; I need it, but something incongruous keeps me there.

I pull out and resume my life-long work of tracking my own fears, angers and blocks. When I catch their scent I am relentless. I am the wolf in the twilight of dawn who tenaciously stalks his prey; I am the hunter. I know I am close, I have been following this one a long time; sometimes I loose it's trail, only to pick it up again months later, and now the scent is strong. Something is wrong, however: usually, when I am this close I smell their fear, and this one is fearless, it tells me my efforts are in vain, insignificant. It doesn't even care I am so near. I am thrown off balance but still I pursue, I've come too far to give up. I see a memory: I must be about 3 years old; 2 was too young and by 4 I had already experienced the fallout of separation anxiety, my parents are there, not angry, just matter-of-fact, they inform me that my dreams and visions are nothing more than imagination. Not real. Made up in my mind. And I believed them. Didn't they know everything?

I recognize that now as the moment I had stepped down from infinity and waded into humanity. Something happened, just like a switch had been activated and all of my travels into spirit had been made up, false. It was both the moment in this life I stopped knowing who I was and all my confidence had been pulled out from under me at once. Fast forward through my childhood, adolescence and years of parent-enforced religion that underscored how separate we are from the spirit world; that I'm inherently a bad person, and I have to continually cut, paste and conform to someone's idea of perfection in order to ever have a chance of visiting that elusive realm of spirit. Even though I know the physical and spirit worlds are not separate at all; the idea of separation is merely a perspective, the identity of the beast is made clear and it has grown strong in me. It began as a seed, an idea that belonged to someone else, but I brought it within myself and tried to make it mine. Now it's roots grow deeper than I thought possible. I'm daunted by the task of uprooting this monstrosity. I don't even know where to begin. The wolf in me knows he lacks the strength on his own, but his cunning and tenacity can win in the end if I give him the chance. I must call in all the reinforcements that will come to our aid. The old gods and I have an ancient pact, I must provide them the space, call them in honor and humility, and we may triumph.

The voice ahead of me is a part of me that will have to wait. I must go back the way I came and destroy the idea[s] that keep me where I am. Only then can I save the child who hasn't been seen for decades and bring him home. And only he can re-teach me how to adjust my perspective; to travel into the spirit world again.

Horned God of nature, god of the hunt, god of the wild, you have helped me to stalk the prey, now help me dispatch it safely and swiftly. Lend me your sacred spear and hunt with me.
Earth goddess, mother goddess, show me the way of the healer, that I may heal myself and share that gift with others. Lend me your compassion and heal me.
Water spirits, surround me and dissolve me, take the distractions from me, show me how to use the liquid medium to move me with power.
Fire be gentle with me, your power is great, transform me and help me to understand you.
Air help me stay calm, as my inner world changes and affects the outer, help me stay stable in wisdom.
Stones give me strength of body as my spirit changes, let fire refine me and trust in its power to make gems from dust.

The Little Death & The Mountain Climber

Hi everyone, been a while. I'd say sorry but really, it is what it is. I've been talking to a friend online who's been going through a hard time (send him some healing compassion if you're into that), a tough life very similar to many of my own experiences. I've been doing my best to be there for him and offer as much support as possible; if nothing more than an empathetic soul to talk to, and offer a glimmer of kinship in the darkness of loneliness. But I moved too quickly and opened up too far (ok I admit it's probably because I like him, and I like him because he's going through so much of what I went through, but he's also kind, genuine, contemplative and loves the wilderness; I feel like there's so much we can and do share...) I allowed myself to become too vulnerable, and released too much emotion that wasn't healed yet. I had been practicing meditation pretty regularly, and after the emotional extravaganza, something stirred inside me during dreamtime, made aware by the meditation. From some external source a spirit worker appeared behind me. I recognized their energy, and they said they have always been there helping me along, but never directly. They wouldn't say why they were never in my awareness, like Wolf Spirit has been. They said I moved too fast in my dealings with my friend, and I released too much emotion, including emotion that wasn't healed. Apparently they'd been currently working on helping me to do so but in my interactions I 'ran down the hill too fast' so the good, bad and the ugly came alive. I started feeling physically ill (not bad, just noticeably more tired and weak.) In a later meditation the emotional energy really came alive and burst out of my body, somewhere between the traditional locations for the solar plexus and naval chakra locations. The imagery was bloody and full of gore. Of course my spirit lingered in the pain of unhealthily birthing un-transmuted negative emotion while it took the form of some bloody humanoid monster running around in my own darkness. I could feel the same medicine man behind me, watching, allowing me to make the next move. I recalled my own beast, forcibly in the end, and in my weakness I acknowledged it, accepted it, and reclaimed it inasmuch as was needed to bring it back within myself to finish the transmutation process. The medicine man took me and I fell into his arms; he transported us to a quiet forest full of darkness where he laid me in a hole in the earth, my abdomen still opened from the inside-out, exposed to spirit, bleeding everywhere. He indicated the breech was so great that I needed an extreme healing as fast as possible, and covered me with loose earth. It was fragrant and moist, like new soil for a garden. But I knew what we were doing in this garden of death, and Earth Mother began her healing on me right away. I could no longer see the shaman who always hid in the shadows, only showing himself in my awareness when he needed to intervene due to my missteps, but he whispered to my conscious mind, "You will rest now, until all is healed." And I knew I would not be doing any spirit journeying for some time as Earth Mother took me within her, absorbing the turmoil from myself and transmuting it.
I stayed in this state for a few weeks, and only recently started noticing my spiritual fortitude returning. Of course Wolf Spirit was there when I awoke and crawled from my grave, waiting for a different me. And although I cannot see him, I know the shaman is there, helping me finish that work and regain my strength, so that I can take the next steps in learning. And I've already started a new path, as any path after a death [no matter how small] is a new one. I am beginning to truly embody the Toltec Wisdom that reality is just another dream, and I am loosing [or loosening] my former attachments to so much of my anxieties, discovering my center and how to stay balanced there. I saw myself looking back in the direction of where I've come from and I was high up on a mountain whose heart was pure Spirit, and I can no longer see the trailhead of my childhood. It reminded me of the time I spent on dragon-spirit mountain, where once I got to the top, one of the great Dragons shared with me his Pearl of Wisdom; though my conscious mind struggles to remember what it was (a pity), though I am certain my soul remembers. And just because we do not have a vision in our mind's eye, or words to physically describe, does no mean spirit or soul are any less real. I look ahead and realize there is still infinity in front of me though, so I must keep walking...

Teachings of the Wolf, Gifts of the Mockingjay: Part 2.

Last night I went to the theatre and saw the last of the Hunger Games, and I could not help but reflect on its story. I revere Suzanne Collins for her work; cunning, strategizing, empathetic, reflective and sympathetic to our experience. She gave words and a story to our time; to my time: A flawless rendition of our acts towards each other, our triumphs and our follies of today. But I digress (and rightfully so.) It moved me many times to tears as I saw the districts oppressed, and the people who had been given the precious gift of leadership abuse it, directing its power and influence from their shadows which had consumed them, not to build up a community, but to tear one down in vengeance. I asked myself how many of them had to suffer on one side or the other, so that a few may rise above the rest? Perhaps you cannot see the districts in your own life because they are across the Atlantic, or south beyond a vast desert that you don't care to visit. After all, isn't life much more exciting in the Capitol; so much to do and see, why bother with thousands of kilometers of sand and dust? Although I am at times as guilty as any, I also see the faces of refugees from the other districts and listen to their tales: Iranians who want the freedom to be able to worship without threat, Iraqi families who want safety from the bombs that rained upon them, Afghan parents who want their children to sleep in a bed away from the rubble we gave them, the tax of the Capitol on their district. Rebels and innocent alike have paid and will continue to pay the oil tax for the Capitol; some give their lives, and others their souls, driven to hatred and anger.

As irresponsible as children, too smart for their own good, lacking the temperance of wisdom to know the cost the districts pay to support the Capitol, is too high. They want what they want. Never realizing that the gift of Leadership is always a two-edged sword: On one blade is the power of authority, the other responsibility. The greater the authority, the sharper the responsibility.

I see their faces, the refugees from foreign places, they are the ones who ultimately pay the price so that we may maintain our high-rise societies and our suburban communities intended to shelter and protect us from the forces of nature that in truth dwell within ourselves. To what end? We subjugate, betray and bleed others to protect us from ourselves. So the lesson of Wolf is complicated and nuanced.

Before we can lead we must be balanced. We must weigh the price of progress against the true cost of blood and if we would not bleed ourselves for the cause, to force another is to negate all benefit. A sacrifice must be willing and for the greater good. Wielding authority and responsibility is effective only in balance, but in fear and anger, responsibility will run us through, and doing nothing invites authority to open the stream of blood. The path to balancing our light and shadow sides is compassion.

Only when we teach ourselves compassion and are gifted with the sword of Leadership, can we wield it with either edge to build communities instead of tearing down. And in building up others, we build our selves.

This is the message of Father Wolf. He used a powerful dream, coupled with Suzanne Collins's powerful words to teach the nuances of leadership, their potential benefits, pitfalls and responsibilities. All that we choose is an action with some reaction; thoughts and deeds rippling through space and time. The ripples carry our names into the eternities, and if we watch very carefully, with balanced authority and responsibility, we can make ripples that change our world [and beyond] for the better. This is the teaching of Wolf Spirit, and of Leadership. Perhaps I am beginning to hear the calling of my soul… I will remain unattached, but will heed it’s voice if it beckons me to continue down the path.

Teachings of the Wolf, Gifts of the Mockingjay: Part 1.

 I dreamt last night: Father Wolf took the form of a man and held me as I slept. He whispered softly in my ear, "Let me hold you, show you how to love yourself, and support you until you are strong enough to love you as much as you need." He sat behind me and held me next to a fire under a moonless sky; the stars ablaze as his embrace tightened to the point that I could not move. It was extraordinarily comfortable and I fell asleep a second time, in his arms. I dreamt within that dream, that I was with others like me: Learning to balance the power that had been given us whilst not even realizing what that power was. We were all disciples of Wolf Spirit. Sitting around a campfire, some could change into the full body of the wolf, others perhaps only a wolf head. And others still, myself included, enjoyed a place between: not quite man and not quite wolf, modeling our form after our own mythologies, allowing just enough wildness to emerge yet just enough restraint to not be completely taken. Taken where, I did not know, just that it was far enough on some spectrum of existence to understand I'd be completely erased.

Our games of shapeshifting were interrupted by the noises of wild beasts. The memory of my dream within this dream fades, but through the fog I remember seeing clearly in the dawn: An enormous pack, hundreds strong, of bestial wolves, with our wild souls awakened, we sensed in them no restraint, completely given to some wildness no longer their own but not wholly unlike our own; they consumed whatever they could catch and whatever stood in their way. Slaves to some strange force of ravenous destruction. We kept our distance from their hoard lest they consume us too.

The message became clear and I embodied the wisdom in that lesson, that within me, and perhaps you too, there truly are two kinds of wolves: The gray wolf of balance; teacher, healer, leader, defender and soul-warrior. And shadow wolf; the destroyer, consumer, savage and indiscriminate annihilator. The difference is thus: gray wolf is gray because he is neither black nor white but balanced between the two spectrums. Should he bring forth his shadow-side, however, without great care he can be consumed [by his own shadow] and become an agent of the primordial forces of chaos and destruction. He is not evil, he merely looses his grip and falls into something that is not his nature; it possesses him, and by its very nature overcomes him and he may well be destroyed in the process, creating shadow wolf. Nothing more than a shell for the forces of destruction. I should take a moment and mention White Wolf; some may say he is a third wolf, but from the perspective I have gained, white wolf is only a transient stage of gray wolf in which he looks back towards the source, the spark, the fire from whence he was first imagined to gain a disembodied glimpse of the world around him. It reflects and reminds him that the same fire dwells in all beings, and he suspends his ego from controlling him. Should he truly become white wolf, he would become simultaneously everything at once and cease to be wolf at all. I therefore see white wolf as transient.

One might ask how this lesson is relevant or even practical in the world today, where we no longer feel the need to respect sacred wildness, revere untamed beauty, or practice good stewardship of the natural world; of our true nature. After all, is not the goal of our high-rise societies and our suburban communities intended to shelter and protect us from those destructive forces? I offer a warning before an explanation of the lesson's application: The wild forces of nature we have attempted to tame are part of us, we cannot hide it nor suppress it. And for me, there is no amount of paint, nor beats in a measure, nor words from all our languages that can express the sovereignty and supremacy of unadulterated wilderness; its arcane reiteration, my very soul. To truly understand this gift, I look to the Mockingjay...

(Please continue to part 2...)

Encounters With the Gods: An Artist's Conundrum.

Okay, so I don't what Hawk is doing; I see him following me around, but no visits in dreamtime like Wolf always has. And yet I feel something changing in me: I have had this irresistible desire to be with the gods, and I've been doing research about them. I also really wanted to [randomly] paint/draw this weekend. So why not draw the gods? So I sat down and got out my stuffs but I just couldn't figure out how to do it. I realized that although I love the mythology and imagery, I just can't get behind the anthropomorphizing of the gods. The god of wind is not some dude floating about casting air about the planet. He/she is air, and how do you draw air, much less the spirit of air? I get it, that's why we do anthropomorphize them, but what if there's another way? Thinking of something abstract... (except Cernunnos who always seems to be changing, but often shows himself as a man - and I mean, damn, what a beautiful man..., if not equally as often as something else.)

In the meantime, these questions have really changed my relationship with the gods very quickly. They feel so much more powerful now, and the parts of myself that they represent are opening to their influence more and more. Take for example my incessant mind-chatter: if air and the God is related to the mind and thoughts, then what causes unstable air? It literally comes from imbalances across the landscape; from mountains and deserts to oceans and forest fires. So the lesson there was that all my other elements need to be really careful to stay balanced to help my mind learn quiescence. A specific instance was that I needed to lower (remove) the sentinel mountains erected for self-protection; erode them into fertile soil so that they would not force the air element up into creating storms and provide for more self love/acceptance (hence the soil) to be cultivated.

So I've realized that even though anthropomorphizing the gods has it's uses, I decided I'm an Animist by nature, and there is evidence to support that that was more dominant in ancient societies than a dogmatic system like classical Greece or Rome. In Japan we have the Shinto religion which is still very animist, and I read that the ancient celts were most likely animist in their own spirituality before anthropomorphizing their gods and goddesses in response to those concepts being introduced into their societies over the years.

Maybe Hawk was just helping me open my inner gates to the gods, working behind the scenes until they had a foothold and really began their work in me. I feel wolf coming on strong again too; gonna need some wild-time very soon. With the waning moon it will probably be shadow wolf too (or as I sometimes call it, potential wolf.)

Although ever-grateful, hawk, you still owe me some dreamtime flying lessons...

Strange Beginnings; Maybe?

I had been sick for a few days, and a few months ago started a new job, so I've been way out of touch with myself. The last couple days I've really been buckling down to practice more meditation, and to more deeply realize myself. It seems father wolf is backing down, for how long, who knows? Bad timing for me starting this blog... but we'll deal with it. Good and bad are relative. He said it's time for me to let hawk spirit in with his message(s) and to focus on that for the time being.

As I really begin to let go of my identity, I should say my attachment to my identity, it becomes ever more clear that I am not acting from a place of truth; I'm not being myself. But I've done this my whole life, and I don't know who I am, or even where to start looking. In Plotkin's Soulcraft, he believes this is the norm for Western Society due to our lack of ritual, reverence, and/or community support for our children to grow from adolescence into adults. We do not revere or even seem to care for the idea of self discovery and every one must fit into the same mold of producer/consumer/economic stimulator.

I feel myself calling for an inner death, but my ego won't let go; there must be something to replace it. But what? I've been operating under the assumption that if I just start being what ever it is I'm supposed to be, that the old will just let go and die on its own. Now that I'm writing it out it sounds pretty naive. I did write in my poem that he had to trust in death and in his own rebirth. Perhaps the best road (maybe even the only road forward at this point) is to do just that. Maybe I'm not supposed to know yet.

I was contemplating this whole condition yesterday whilst driving back to work from running errands, and wondered if hawk was supposed to be visiting me with messages/guidance on this very subject. I hadn't even finished the thought when a very large bird flew past my truck heading the same direction adjacent to the offramp I was on. And yes, it was a hawk. I took it as a sign, I did ask for those...

So last night I wholeheartedly practiced meditation and the quiescence of the mind in hopes that hawk would visit me. I called the 7 directions and invited all the ancestors, gods, goddesses and nature spirits that would help. I waited for hawk but I never met him there. Perhaps the timing is poor. I admit I'm a bit distraught by the whole thing, but it was only one night. Maybe I'm still preparing myself, and I must continue with the hope that when ready, I'll receive the insight I need.

Call of the Wilderness

Do you ever crave wilderness? That feeling of primeval wildness, outside the facade of security our civilizations claim to offer us? So now that a lot of the background stuffs are out of the way, maybe I can organize my thoughts a bit better and get into the meat and marrow of this blog.


Real hardships in America are so rare, when we do have them, the lack of community is so stark and yet so forgotten, we think someone else needs to come and fix whatever happened for us. I know that real change begins with the self, but we can't be afraid of our own shadows; our own darkness, and we can't just sweep it under the rug because it isn't pretty. I've been called, and I think so have many others, to bring out the demons and deal with them once and for all, giving purpose to our own darkness, and allowing it to work together with our own light as a whole. For me, the Call of the Wilderness is just that. It reflects in myself my totality; simultaneous creation and destruction, harmony with nature and the universe, and the beast within wants to show our world its power; my power, our gifts. It is my true self. Not many people I meet understand this call (however it manifests itself to them), and/or are too often, too afraid to heed it.

If not yet apparent, my blog name, Lonely Wolf, is in reference to the isolation felt by the lack of support a healthy spiritual community would normally provide due to the death of the old self and birth of the new, as well as the loneliness felt when attempting to share my experiences of dream/meditation animal shifting events coupled with my desires for wildness, with others who claim to be part of our 'pagan' community yet regard these wild experiences as some outside force that's  completely unrelatable despite my knowledge that it is a real part of myself. Wolf is, or course, in reference to Wolf Spirit whom I have already mentioned frequently visits me in dreams and meditations to lend its guidance and so often represents the wildness within me, wanting so desperately to express itself and with whom I maintain a deep connection with.

I visited yellowstone this summer and was stunned by the wild beauty there. It's visceral nature called out to me in an unprecedented way with such depth and force that I'm still craving access to real wilderness. I wrote a sort of poem about it, I'm calling it Call of the Wilderness, although that may change:

He looked out upon the elder lands, untouched by civilization save for their precautions to preserve its pure nature. Primeval vents scattered the land, spitting and gurgling mud, water and sulfurous steam onto the sullied sky. Their stink was abhorrent yet somehow each beckoned him to come a little closer, awakening within him a dark curiosity for what stirred in the deep pits of the steaming, crystal waters.

He looked out upon the elder lands, where grizzly bear, bison and wolves still rule the wilderness. Never before had he felt something so ancient and so alive, thriving in the midst of everlasting and simultaneous destruction and creation. The power was so great that in the act of breathing it in, he was broken: There were no more words, no comparisons that his modern world could offer him, and he knew he would never be satiated without access to this sacred alliance with primeval wilderness.

He looked out upon the elder lands, whose wild and ancient Spirit reflected within him something equally wild and ancient and he saw they recognized one another. In the flash of the moment therein, everything he thought he knew about himself; all the things he thought he was, his relationship to the world, society, community and his relationship to self, his identity, extinguished. Although it would take him days to realize, he was stunned, jolted and began to fall into the abyss of soul.

He looked out upon the elder lands, whose wild and ancient Spirit cast a deadly spell upon him: Death was summoned to deal a death-blow to his perspective, and Death is never unsuccessful: A sacrifice was made, and an ancient creature stirred deep within him. It was at once dark, ancient and familiar as the Wilderness that awakened it; it is his truest nature and he hungered to revive and honor it. It is his self, essence, power and reciprocity with the primeval wilderness he now yearned for with all his passion.

He looked out upon the elder lands, whose silent mirror-spell was the cataclysmic awakening of his grateful soul. The beast that stirred within lent him the knowledge that this was nothing more than a call to truth; the wanderer knows now what lies ahead, and this is the final choice to step forward into unanimity, or backward into decay. There is no stagnation, Death has been summoned, she can be his ally and unlock the door forward, or the door whose threshold is the precipice of abyss. All other doors shut and the lights dim.

He looked out upon the elder lands that gave him what he sought, reflecting upon his receipt of such a precious gift, never earned, merely requested. He was glad to have recognized it for what it was, and that he fell on the sacred sword of Earth’s wilderness: The sacrifice that awakened his wild soul within.

He looked out upon the elder lands, seated across from Death, stars streaming across a moonless sky: She kindly offered him drink. In one bony hand a gold cup, bejeweled with gems of light and filled with bright possibilities of social success. In the other hand, she held a dark cup of tarnished silver that appeared empty yet whose weight proved a fullness far exceeding the other. As she sat before him, cloaked in darkness and mystery, she spoke without words, softly to his mind, “Before you choose, know that both cups are poison; one is a brew of Seeds of the Yew, Yggdrasil, steeped in Eitr from the Midguard Serpent that bestows certain death. The other is a distillation of Lust, Desire and endless Craving that yields a tenacious, everlasting fever. Choose wisely, for your destiny is in one, and the other, your doom. This is the test of your soul, as only it can tell which is which.”

He looked out upon the elder lands and with the mysterious knowledge granted him by the awakening beast of his soul, he knew that he must choose death, and finish the work begun by the fateful mirror-spell, to commit his self to final sacrifice in order to fully bring to life the beast within. For he no longer feared Death and accepted her as an ally, he would place his trust in Death, and the rebirth of his Soul. He therefore chose the tarnished silver cup and as he pressed it to his lips, he heard in the distance his death knell ring aloud.

Chew on that bone for a while and let me know if it tastes familiar, I know there's more of us out there, looking for others that understand the Call of the Wilderness [or Wildness] in their own hearts where so many around us are afraid to acknowledge.

Not Yellowstone but a local lake: A little slice of wildness.