Beauty, power, grace

“Come,” the old woman said. “I’m going to show you something. Show you someone.”

I was not afraid. Not even when the colours of the world faded and everything seemed to shrink. No, I realized. It wasn’t the world shrinking, it was me. Slowly falling back, collapsing with my back against the wall and my hands still firmly clasped by the old woman.

We were dead.

“Now we can go and see her.”

Her. I never was told her name. The priestess of Death. Priestess? No, when I laid eyes on her I knew she was more than that. She was the Goddess herself. Hair as black as charcoal reached just below her shoulders. Sunkissed skin was soft and healthy. The grace and seduction of a dancer oozed from her every motion. The authority of a Queen shone from her eyes. Clad in gold and clad in blue, the most royal of colours.

She was beautiful. Painfully beautiful. 

Our spirits like forgettable mice scuttled around the corners of the building. Not to be noticed, not to be seen, just to witness. It was a dangerous game, getting this close. But I was not afraid, only fascinated by the beauty, power, and grace which was hers.

Kosmos Cat (Dream)

 

 

“What is that? A cat?”

It was a cat, it had to be, but also it was not. A black long-haired creature with blue eyes. Those eyes… They shifted, changed size and form. A deep deep blue, glittering like a starry night, pulsated at its chest. 

“What shall we call it?”

Kosmos, we decided to call it Kosmos. 

 

 

 

Dreaming

It is early morning. My body feels numb and my mind is still wrapped up in what I just saw, what I just dreamed.

 

Birds, the largest I’ve ever seen. Intensely black and blue in colour, like nothing native to this land. In fact I can not recall them being native anywhere. 

I look out the window to see them, and in amazement call out for the others. Come see! 

But looking out the other windows, looking out on the other side of the house, the others see nothing out of the ordinary. White birds, like swans or perhaps storks. Large yes, but not unusually so.

In confusion I look both ways. Through one window I see creatures of a rare beauty, black and blue. Through the other window I look up and see what everyone else sees, simple white birds, nothing out of the ordinary. Hidden, their qualities are hidden.

Water, the blue of the ocean, with a surface gently rippled by wind. I see it above, stretching over the sky. A reflection of the water below. I see it below, water covering the ground. Covering the roads and fields, covering all. A reflection of the ocean above.

“How did you become a leader?” a girl asks. 

I frown and shake my head, the question is strange. 

“It wasn’t planned,” I say. “I am no priest, just… There was no one else. No, no. I am no leader. Not like that.”

“Why do they have many arms?” the girl asks. 

“To… open many doors,” I answer. Uncertain not of the answer but of how to word what language does not cover. “To simultaneously reach for many things, ready to open many doors, many possibilities all at once.”

 

 

Chance brought them together. Two girls, friends by accident. They study different paths, come from different traditions, honour different gods. Different but the same. They welcome me as a third.

 

 

 

 

From a Dream – Crow and Stag

In my dreams last night I saw a symbol. Twice it appeared in different contexts and there my Dream-Self came to ponder its meaning.

 

It was drawn in black on a coloured background, like a silhouette against dusky skies. A stylized image, hints of a circle yet not fully drawn.

On one side the circle’s curved line lead to a stag.

On the other side of the circle the curved line blended into the shape of a gnarly old tree, and at the very top perched a bird, a crow or raven.

 

I feel as though I know it’s meaning, somewhere. It lingers at the back of my head like a forgotten memory. But, the more I strain to remember the further away it slips.

 

Something I know, at least.

 

On a Bus – A Memory

I was just a kid on a bus.

There were people around, parents pushing strollers,  children on their way to school, old men with caps.The doors screeched and the enjin growled.

I didn’t care. My mind was elsewhere, searching and asking.

“How? How can I…?”

The answer came booming out of nowhere. A soundless voice, strong yet soft as a whisper. Authoritative but not demanding, flooding me with sudden understanding.

Full awareness, it told me. Complete and utter awareness is the key. To reaching the next level. To ascending. To becoming more.

I was just a kid on a bus.

The answer, that answer, made me cry.

Full awareness, I could never do it. My mind was full of dreams and imagination, would I have to give that up? Daydreaming was what got me through the day, how could I swap that for full awareness of the mundane world around?

So the kid on the bus cried, and shook her head. She couldn’t do it.

Deleted

It is Darkness, she said

And that is all I remember.

*

Forgive me, this blog post was far longer but I felt a need to delete it. For some reason it made me nervous. Actually, I am sweating here. Not because it was somehow wrong, quite the opposite. I just

I don’t know.

Again I am struck by the strong feeling that I am not supposed to talk about the Darkness. So ah, I’m sorry. Post deleted.