First to relax; can’t count backwards, even by 7’s or 8’s anymore… too easy; went to do primes squared, cubed, and on… finally able to de-focus and let go.
Remembrances not necessarily in order, but I will try
Found myself on the Arynx… this creature existed at time of Lemuria, kind of a cross between a whale and an otter… kind of. And, of course, communication existed in Lemuria between all sentient entities: plant, animal, and whatever. Talking with Arynx, as we cruised the ocean nearby. About change. About the coming change. In that time period and now. The similarities and lessons and awareness. The sadness and sorrow of things dying and hurt and destroyed. Being reminded of change as a cycle of birth, life, death, rebirth. Either that, or static of like a postcard of pretty, but no life, no breath, no emotion. Of course, I would choose change to postcard, but it is still difficult to accept the change that is part of dying and the perception of separation and pain and loss and grief. Being reminded to connect to their correlations of joy, birth, celebration, and play. And so, yes, I choose change… but it is still difficult. My human perspective, I guess, though then on the Arynx and even now, not all human, it feels like; not quite all human; part magic or nature or earth-born or something. I don’t know. Faery changeling, maybe. The Arynx does give a small clue for me, making me aware of the existence of Faery in Lemuria, that I wasn’t aware of before, not quite in the sense of it. Told to go meet with them. They have ways of changing with the change that I can learn.
Next, I have a sense of myself in Wales, with my sheep, herding them to shelter as a storm approaches. It is a big, heavy thunderstorm with major lightning. I have all of them in a small cave, but one. As I go to retrieve her, a lightning bolt strikes her and I run to hold her, and cry, and put myself over her, and yell to the lightning to take me instead and leave her alone. I don’t know what happened next. Perhaps the lightning took me up on that.
In the cognitive process of focusing on the elementals, and which in particular would assist in this alchemy transitional healing, my thoughts were pre-occupied, when Clive, the cat, decided to participate and jumped onto my solar plexus, all 10 pounds of him. Of course I invited him, as if the cat cared whether or not I did. And I accepted what energy and awareness he was sharing, which – truth be known – he did care a little about, because had I not been receptive, I think he would have maybe not consented to help out at a later date. What he did was take my focus off wherever it had run, in its wee cognitive circles, and put it on him. As I considered what element (fire, air, water, earth) he represented for me, or for himself, I realized that, as a cat, he didn’t actually fit any of those. He fit energy, or spirit, or the void – like that. And as soon as I had ‘gotten it’, he jumped off, went over to the couch, and napped for the rest of the session.
Having shifted my perception, and released to allowing the energy flowing to reveal as it would, I found myself on the dark sandy bank of the sea of Voidness, where the wisps of Spirit-cobwebs float like mist over it. A few times before, I have been here, although even Michael has no taste for this task, or rather, it is a place Angels choose not to tread (I think ‘fear’ is too strong or wrong a word for that, for them). Usually, I go out in the rowboat with my staff and collect the mystic mist like cotton candy and use it to mend the Veil. This time, there is no rowboat. And I hear a voice say, “just walk on out here”. Well, now. I don’t think so. I mean, the picture of a rowboat on water is already pushing it because it is not water, it is the Void. It is the seemingly empty fullness of unmanifested whatevers. So I mean I have a good imagination to reframe things so I can do impossible tasks. This seemed a bit much. But, I was willing to wait for a little assistance in the endeavor. From behind me comes this small small Faery creature, about a foot tall and a foot round, with a lantern. Like a miniature dwarf, kindof… or goblin… or something obviously not meant to be cognitively assessed. With a bit of magic, he turns the light in the lantern on… it comes out just the front panel and reaches out across the Void like a path… a sparkly golden silver beam of light. I hear someone somewhere say, “There. Now walk on it over to here.” Ok. Well, I will just do that. Take a step and just see what happens. And I don’t fall into oblivion, or wherever the void might take me. My feet find solidness underneath. Gaining more confidence, I walk on. As I arrive at the misty area, I hear the voice again, “Come on into the clearing, love”. And there she sits, the wise old baglady, in front of a low burning campfire. So, I go and sit opposite her. She hands me tea. We share tea. I do not remember the conversation. But I do remember that the flames stay low and glow silvery white. She tells me to take tea to the Pathmaker who waits on the shore for me to return. And so I go back the way I came, and share tea with the Pathmaker. Perhaps later I will remember Her words.
The next that I remember has to do with grandfather. Grandfather who was evil in every sense of that word in this here and now. Because he used his Welsh magic voice and magic fire in a fundamental Christian neighborhood church in the late 40s and early 50s of the Hollywood, CA, scene, and went about purifying, in the name of God, those who had any flaw that he recognized – which meant those he didn’t like, especially women, girls, and children who didn’t obey. And he used purification ‘tools’ and ‘cleansers’ not ever meant to be used in that way. And sometimes that meant ‘sacrificing’ (which is dying, no matter the word), for the good of the whole, or the good of the soul, or just good for his power… I don’t think that mattered either.
So, I am the child who lived, despite his best efforts. And now, I am being re-awakened to the fact that – having closed off myself to his fire – I have closed off myself to my fire… that magical, mystical Welsh Faery fire that burns within me. I closed it off, because I did not want to become ‘him’. I did not want that ‘fire’ which did the things ‘he’ did. But, now, Spirit is saying, ‘it is time to wake your fire, but you must open what you closed… and trust.’
And during this struggle, this choosing, I feel Brighid nearby, the fire-warrior, reminding me that fire isn’t all bad… remember the initiation?
But still my fists are clenched, my breath is clenched, I struggle with myself, and hear myself cursing him in the greatest run of profanity that I could repeat over and over and over. Even as I would release a little, still I cursed him. Over and over and over.
And a thought flitted across my mind, almost too small, too quick to be understood, but I did. And I don’t know if I wanted to, but what’s heard, is heard. “Only someone whom you trusted the most would have been allowed by you to play that role.” And I cursed him again. But I knew the truth of it. And cursed some more.
There was a sense of his willingness to accept responsibility for the part that was human and inhuman, where the whispers of evil took him farther than he had anticipated before incarnating. He didn’t realize that power; he underestimated its draw, its seduction.
Finally, I stopped cursing him. Then I began to sip the bit of fire that resided in me, not touched by him – although my mind equated my fire to his and refused to release it willingly. I struggled and nudged my own self to open somewhat to the fire that glowed and lived inside me. Again, I felt Brighid’s hands on my shoulders, and I realized that – although I would allow the flow of Spirit, or water or other elements to flow through her hands through me, I resisted the vision, the experience, of fire flowing through me. Resisted and struggled against what I knew to be a necessary healing experience. Slowly, I allowed the tide of fire to flow from her hands a bit at a time, slowly, slowly, descending from my shoulders downward. I do not know if or how far the fire got through me, and whether it actually made it to my feet. Perhaps so. I do not remember.
Then, it was realizing that the fire was green, emerald green, and it felt different than regular earth human fire. Its texture and taste were different; its aliveness was different; its glow and non-consuming movement through my body, cells, energy, neurons, and blood, filled me. Filled me completely. Until I was fully immersed and One with it.
And then Grandmother held my feet, and Spirit asked me to allow the quickening of the fire within me. “Not to know, but to trust.” Repeated over and over and over again.
And I let go, and released, and continued to deepen that release every time I could catch my breath and feel resistance. I let go. Let go the need to know and embraced the trusting. Deep, deeper, deepest. Deep, deeper, deepest…
Until I coughed for having gone so deep as to not breathe well (forgetting to transition my breathing to deepest ocean space; or not realizing I had gone that deep).
Then, I resumed as Grandmother resumed, and deeper I went, but there was a shift in the texture of the energy, a smoothing out, a calming, a sense of closure… for now.
And I saw my ancient Faery mentor, Mahng, and she looked at me and said, “Green fire.” And I repeated, “Green fire.” And she said, “You are.” And I replied, “I am.” And this scene was repeated with the Oberon, Tatiana, and around a circle of friends, Faery and Human and Changeling. “Green fire.” “Green fire.” “You are.” “I am.”
And I knew I was changed. And as I thought about the green fire, I heard Spirit say, “It is not for you to understand cognitively, in order to use or heal or do by yourself. I will do and say through you. You only have to trust.”
Then Grandmother and I shared tea, as I returned to this present time/space beingness.
Grandmother Reiki 3