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.

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...)