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Home now.
I was feeling tired and blurry most of Friday, which meant that I didn't get the stuff I needed to get done done as efficiently as I should have, and so got to a later start than would have been ideal even if we hadn't misestimated the distance to the area by a factor of about two. I called Maria Rose and said we were going to be late; she said that![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
yezida's flight was also late, so it was all getting pushed back. When we got there, Maria Rose and Thursday were upstairs, so we couldn't tell whether they were home; I found the Feri shrine, though, so I was sure I was in the right place. :} Eventually we got everything sorted out, and I babbled because I'm always nervous with people, and then they went out to get yezida.
When we packed up to move over to Claudia's house, we went to drive by the lake. Went over a small river on the way, which always brightens my heart; more on this later. The lake was one of the big New England lakes, set into the hollow of the hills and surrounded by trees, with wooden jetties, some of them with boats moored to them, the ripples flickering a surface that looked like a huge pool of blue-purple ink, deep and resonant.
Then we were up onto the land. It was thick with trees in rich, potent greens, the ways winding around and over the stream and twisting through the patterns of the land. There was a brilliant orange tractor tucked around behind where we parked. The house was larger than it seemed from the outside, with shimmering hardwood floors, people gathered, a general bustle of morning activity. I had a little time to catch up on things withqueenofhalves and cangelo before we started up.
We talked about breath and the power of names. I mentioned heka, because, well, authoritative speech. Magic. Power of the air. And so on.yezida said the heart of the breathing practice was the seeking of the still place in the center of the chaos, which provoked this in my notes:
One of the lines in my notes, that kept coming up all weekend, was "Wherever you go, there you are." The more of the Feri work I do, the more I find that I'm not actually going anywhere, really; the things that seem most alien to where I'm coming from are often the things that, once I have the right context and approach, slot in most deeply.
We did wand work, and I brought one of the branchesalhandra sent me to do it with. (After a great deal of dithering, which pariyal provoked me into doing explicitly and thus sorting out.) yezida talked about the energies she uses in the wand; she usually does the blue Feri fire with the blade, and a "golden light" with the wand. So we reached to the sun, and . . .
"And Ra sent his beautiful daughter, called Gold . . ."
Hello, Mother.
It was a good weekend for Hetharu, actually, between the golden light of the sun and the perfectly clear, dark nights in which I could see the freckles on Her other face.
We asked the question "What are you seeking from your religious practice?" and drew that answer into a pentacle on the ground and stepped into it. I was expecting the answer from my Heart to be something like balance, healing, guidance . . .
We formulated intentions, guidance, clarity, and stepped into those, and mine came out pretty straightforwardly as an Iron Pent, which was interesting. I witnessed Claudia's andyezida's, and they witnessed mine. (Kheperu!)
We talked about working from a place of abundance rather than a place of scarcity. (Wherever you go, there you are.)
And we watched a scarlet tanager circle around the outside of our working area, tree to tree, a flash of brilliant, luminescent orange in the trees.
When we came down from the working on the hill, I only had about a half-dozen mosquito bites. One of those, however, is the one on the back of my left forearm that is located about a hand back from the knob of my wrist, between the bones, which is such that the swelling is occasionally making the inside of my inner forearm bone feel bruised. I also have a couple on my legs, one on my neck, and one on the top of my head. (After that, every time we went out I used bug spray in addition to my pills, and I only accumulated one more bite.)
I also went to play in the stream. By the road between the barn (where we were doing outside working) and the house, the land cuts away sharply in a tumble of rocks, and the stream runs in the heart of the cut, running brown and cold over the stones, some of them clean, some of them mossed over and slippery. I splashed about in the water, occasionally proclaiming, "I win!" -- the way down was difficult enough to be triumph-inducing -- and I even managed to get out again. Some people find spiritual regeneration in trees, in hills, in the ocean: mine is in streams, rivers, and the starry sky.
We sat for a while with the eastern Guardian, who is one of the ones I had a clear sense of. I got two thoughts from this, related: "Have you ever looked at the star trails on the water, the way they point the way?" and "Not all guides give directions. With some, the directions are clear when one understands the nature of the guide. Cultivate wisdom."cangelo had a really neat drawing, one pared down to essences, coiled together at the root.
After dinner, we went up by the barn again, and we started out holding a wake for Carl. I quoted somethingpapersky said about/to Kristopher once, that it isn't the past one mourns, but the futures that were lost. We talked about loss, and connections; the people who had known him better than I spoke of what they knew. (And I wish so I weren't so awkward with people, so uncertain of how to reach out and of whether I am welcome, I wish . . .) I reiterated the prayer I made then, and again I wish him: a thousand of bread, a thousand of beer, a thousand of every good thing. I made the prayer again, silently, for cangelo's grief. A thousand of every good thing . . .
Afterwards, we reached for Mari and Twr, meditated on them. And I got the challenge -- the challenge that to stand in the fullness of my power requires that I accept the capacity to make a difference. Djet, djet, djet is after me again, and I'm going to have to face it. And I witnessed Claudia stepping into greater clarity, which was a nice closure on witnessing her seeking it.
And the fire burned blue. Licking along the logs.
Sunday morning we -- Maria Rose, Thursday,yezida and I -- went to a place called the Rusty Moose for breakfast, and I had a yoooge omelette and was ready for a nap by the time we got to the site. Fortunately, it was a low-key day. We did some chants in Hawai'ian and what cangelo called "virgin sex magic" (Dare to be dorky!), and after lunch up to the barn and aspecting of the sun and moon. Sun was much easier for me, probably because there was so much of it . . .
Then cleaning up the space and people who had to go going, and I washed dishes andqueenofhalves dried them, and I got some of the daylilies that Bonnie brought (which I still need to plant), and went to meet teinedreugan and go home.
There are things I'm missing -- the giant cat, a big Maine Coon, so large that Rio (who is about Naomi's age) didn't actually seem to recognise him as a cat. (And honestly, it was tricky even for the adults.) The conversations about various things, people thinking I had useful things to say -- like Claudia thanking me for the understanding I had of how to do the Ha prayer without getting stuck on the hold-out. Stuff.
I'm still very tired.
And I have had a very hot bath with a Lush bath-bomb, and it was called 'fairy jasmine', which strikes me as oddly appropriate. And now I'm pondering a faery mead . . .
I was feeling tired and blurry most of Friday, which meant that I didn't get the stuff I needed to get done done as efficiently as I should have, and so got to a later start than would have been ideal even if we hadn't misestimated the distance to the area by a factor of about two. I called Maria Rose and said we were going to be late; she said that
yezida's flight was also late, so it was all getting pushed back. When we got there, Maria Rose and Thursday were upstairs, so we couldn't tell whether they were home; I found the Feri shrine, though, so I was sure I was in the right place. :} Eventually we got everything sorted out, and I babbled because I'm always nervous with people, and then they went out to get yezida.When we packed up to move over to Claudia's house, we went to drive by the lake. Went over a small river on the way, which always brightens my heart; more on this later. The lake was one of the big New England lakes, set into the hollow of the hills and surrounded by trees, with wooden jetties, some of them with boats moored to them, the ripples flickering a surface that looked like a huge pool of blue-purple ink, deep and resonant.
Then we were up onto the land. It was thick with trees in rich, potent greens, the ways winding around and over the stream and twisting through the patterns of the land. There was a brilliant orange tractor tucked around behind where we parked. The house was larger than it seemed from the outside, with shimmering hardwood floors, people gathered, a general bustle of morning activity. I had a little time to catch up on things with
queenofhalves and cangelo before we started up.We talked about breath and the power of names. I mentioned heka, because, well, authoritative speech. Magic. Power of the air. And so on.
yezida said the heart of the breathing practice was the seeking of the still place in the center of the chaos, which provoked this in my notes:- Look in to the eye of the storm
Look out to the force without form
Look around at the sight and sound
Look in, look out, look around.
-- Rush, "Force Ten"
One of the lines in my notes, that kept coming up all weekend, was "Wherever you go, there you are." The more of the Feri work I do, the more I find that I'm not actually going anywhere, really; the things that seem most alien to where I'm coming from are often the things that, once I have the right context and approach, slot in most deeply.
We did wand work, and I brought one of the branches
alhandra sent me to do it with. (After a great deal of dithering, which pariyal provoked me into doing explicitly and thus sorting out.) yezida talked about the energies she uses in the wand; she usually does the blue Feri fire with the blade, and a "golden light" with the wand. So we reached to the sun, and . . ."And Ra sent his beautiful daughter, called Gold . . ."
Hello, Mother.
It was a good weekend for Hetharu, actually, between the golden light of the sun and the perfectly clear, dark nights in which I could see the freckles on Her other face.
We asked the question "What are you seeking from your religious practice?" and drew that answer into a pentacle on the ground and stepped into it. I was expecting the answer from my Heart to be something like balance, healing, guidance . . .
- I thought I was seeking ma'at
The hurricane's eye is seeking inspiration
(Breathe in!)
The butterfly breathes and shifts its wings
The dragonflies dance
(Breathe in!)
(And laugh!)
We formulated intentions, guidance, clarity, and stepped into those, and mine came out pretty straightforwardly as an Iron Pent, which was interesting. I witnessed Claudia's and
yezida's, and they witnessed mine. (Kheperu!)We talked about working from a place of abundance rather than a place of scarcity. (Wherever you go, there you are.)
And we watched a scarlet tanager circle around the outside of our working area, tree to tree, a flash of brilliant, luminescent orange in the trees.
When we came down from the working on the hill, I only had about a half-dozen mosquito bites. One of those, however, is the one on the back of my left forearm that is located about a hand back from the knob of my wrist, between the bones, which is such that the swelling is occasionally making the inside of my inner forearm bone feel bruised. I also have a couple on my legs, one on my neck, and one on the top of my head. (After that, every time we went out I used bug spray in addition to my pills, and I only accumulated one more bite.)
I also went to play in the stream. By the road between the barn (where we were doing outside working) and the house, the land cuts away sharply in a tumble of rocks, and the stream runs in the heart of the cut, running brown and cold over the stones, some of them clean, some of them mossed over and slippery. I splashed about in the water, occasionally proclaiming, "I win!" -- the way down was difficult enough to be triumph-inducing -- and I even managed to get out again. Some people find spiritual regeneration in trees, in hills, in the ocean: mine is in streams, rivers, and the starry sky.
We sat for a while with the eastern Guardian, who is one of the ones I had a clear sense of. I got two thoughts from this, related: "Have you ever looked at the star trails on the water, the way they point the way?" and "Not all guides give directions. With some, the directions are clear when one understands the nature of the guide. Cultivate wisdom."
cangelo had a really neat drawing, one pared down to essences, coiled together at the root.After dinner, we went up by the barn again, and we started out holding a wake for Carl. I quoted something
papersky said about/to Kristopher once, that it isn't the past one mourns, but the futures that were lost. We talked about loss, and connections; the people who had known him better than I spoke of what they knew. (And I wish so I weren't so awkward with people, so uncertain of how to reach out and of whether I am welcome, I wish . . .) I reiterated the prayer I made then, and again I wish him: a thousand of bread, a thousand of beer, a thousand of every good thing. I made the prayer again, silently, for cangelo's grief. A thousand of every good thing . . .Afterwards, we reached for Mari and Twr, meditated on them. And I got the challenge -- the challenge that to stand in the fullness of my power requires that I accept the capacity to make a difference. Djet, djet, djet is after me again, and I'm going to have to face it. And I witnessed Claudia stepping into greater clarity, which was a nice closure on witnessing her seeking it.
And the fire burned blue. Licking along the logs.
Sunday morning we -- Maria Rose, Thursday,
yezida and I -- went to a place called the Rusty Moose for breakfast, and I had a yoooge omelette and was ready for a nap by the time we got to the site. Fortunately, it was a low-key day. We did some chants in Hawai'ian and what cangelo called "virgin sex magic" (Dare to be dorky!), and after lunch up to the barn and aspecting of the sun and moon. Sun was much easier for me, probably because there was so much of it . . .Then cleaning up the space and people who had to go going, and I washed dishes and
queenofhalves dried them, and I got some of the daylilies that Bonnie brought (which I still need to plant), and went to meet teinedreugan and go home.There are things I'm missing -- the giant cat, a big Maine Coon, so large that Rio (who is about Naomi's age) didn't actually seem to recognise him as a cat. (And honestly, it was tricky even for the adults.) The conversations about various things, people thinking I had useful things to say -- like Claudia thanking me for the understanding I had of how to do the Ha prayer without getting stuck on the hold-out. Stuff.
I'm still very tired.
And I have had a very hot bath with a Lush bath-bomb, and it was called 'fairy jasmine', which strikes me as oddly appropriate. And now I'm pondering a faery mead . . .
