The Ramblings and Wanderings

Posts Tagged ‘meditation’

The tenth Rune-spell I did learn

Whilst hanging from the World Tree

Is to gaze deep into the murky night

And spy the Hedgewitches flying high,

Sending their spirits far and wide

I see their true forms,

Though they may shift their shapes

With this Rune-charm that I know,

I can confuse their wandering souls

Then turn them ‘round and send them home

Back into their bodies,

Back within their own skins

And for a time at least, trap them within.

W i n t e r

By Felix Salten

The leaves were falling from the great oak at the meadow’s edge. They were falling from all the trees. One branch of the oak reached high above the others and stretched far out over the meadow. Two leaves clung to it’s very tip. “It isn’t the way it used to be.” said one leaf to the other. “No,” the other leaf answered. “So many of us have fallen off tonight we’re almost the only ones left on the branch.” “You never know who’s going to go next,” said the first leaf.

“Even when it was warm and the sun shone, a storm or a cloudburst would come sometimes, and many leaves were torn off, though they were still very young. You never know who’s going to go next.” “The sun hardly shines now,” sighed the second leaf,” and when it does, it gives no warmth. We must have warmth again.” “Can it be true,” said the first leaf, “can it really be true, that others come to take our places when we’re gone and after them still others, and more and more?” “It really is true,” whispered the second leaf. “We can’t even begin to imagine it, it’s beyond our powers.” “It makes me very sad,” added the first leaf. They were very silent a while.

Then the first leaf said quietly to itself, “Why must we fall?” The second leaf asked, “What happens to us when we have fallen?” “We sink down .” “What is under us?” The first leaf answered, “I don’t know. Some say one thing, some another, but nobody knows.” The second leaf asked, “Do we feel anything, do we know anything about ourselves when we’re down there?” The first leaf answered, “Who knows? Not one of all those down there has ever come back to tell us about it.” They were silent again.

Then the first leaf said tenderly to the other, “Don’t worry so much about it you’re trembling.” “That’s nothing,” the second leaf answered, I tremble at the least thing now. I don’t feel so sure of my hold as I used to.” “Let’s not talk any more about such things,” said the first leaf. The other replied, “No, we’ll let it be. But-what else shall we talk about?”

It was silent, but went on after a little while, “Which of us will go first?” “There’s still plenty of time to worry about that,” the other leaf said reassuringly. “Lets remember how beautiful it was, how wonderful, when the sun came out and shone so warmly that we thought we’d burst with life. Do you remember? And the morning dew and the mild and splendid nights .?

“Now the nights are dreadful,” the second leaf complained, ” and there is no end to them.” “We shouldn’t complain, ” said the first leaf gently. “We’ve outlived many, many others.” “Have I changed much?” asked the second leaf shyly. “Not in the least,” the first leaf said. “You think so only because I’ve gotton to be so yellow and ugly. But it’s different in your case.” “You’re fooling me,” the second leaf said. “No, really,” the first leaf answered eagerly, “believe me, you’re as lovely as the day you were born. Here and there may be a little yellow spot. But it’s hardly noticeable and makes you only more beautiful, believe me.” “Thanks,” whispered the second leaf, quite untouched. I don’t believe you, not altogether, but I thank you because you’re so kind. You’ve always been so kind to me. I’m just beginning to understand how kind you are.

“Hush,” said the other leaf, and kept silent itself, for it was too troubled to talk any more. Then they were both silent. Hours passed. A moist wind blew, cold and hostile, through the treetops.” “Ah, now,” said the second leaf, “I ” Then it’s voice broke off. It was torn from it’s place and spun down.

Winter had come.

From the book: “Bambi a Life in the Woods”, by Felix Salten written in 1928

As I cross my fingers and toes and murmur “Safe, safe, safe” to myself the airplane lifts, we take off and rise up abouve the river valley, passing over low mountains once as tall and mighty as the Rockies … or nearly so. Now they are withered and wind scored, worn down to their very bones. Overgrown with dust and sagebrush, bare rock thrusting out of the crust of the Earth and into a perfect Indian Summer sky.

I know this Province like I know my own body. I recite the names of rivers and lakes, peaks and towns like an invocation as we pass over. There runs the North Thompson River winding up a green valley surrounded by brown hills and low mountains. There is Salmon Arm; the Monashee Mountains give way to the Kootenays before we pass over the Arrow Lakes stretching up to the North and out of sight.

The Land grows greener as we move east. The green glorious peaks of the Kootenays give way to the snow caped Rockies. Rising up like great waves upon an angry sea of earth, stone, snow and forest, the Rockies are an impressive sight to behold whether you are flying abouve them or standing at their roots, in the shadows of the great mountains.

Along the way one shape stands out to me. Repeating again and again. This is the shape of a streambed reaching out and through the land, the shape of the tops of ridges, of tree branches. This is the shape of the valleys far below, cutting their way into a mountainous landscape.

I touch my heart, my lungs. I trace my circulatory and nervous systems. Finding within myself the same shape reflected and repeated. This shape, this sacred geometry, this doodle of Nature reminds me that my beating heart is made of the same stuff as the Land below. Created by the same Hand, born of the same Womb. I feel as if I can trace those distant streambeds and ridges with the same intimacy as I would follow the course of my blood from heart to fingertip and back again. This shape repeats itself, passing before my sight, upon the land, and within my own flesh.

I lean against my window and allow myself to drift into a light doze and then find myself slipping into a dream state, I dream of being handed a white branch of cold flame. Is it the shock of the searing cold of this silver flame that wakes me, or the turbulence that sends my forehead smacking against the window?

Hurry

Hurry up!

All these people speeding along

Going so fast they disturb the wind

Racing off to …

Where?

To work

To the Bar

To the store

To nowhere

Nowhere at all

They leave themselves no time

To smell the roses

To play with the children

To pray to the gods

To feel the wind

They worry

About a pile of bricks and mortar

And not their own heart and mind

They fill their lives with needless things

And restless activity

So they don’t have to smell the roses

Or play with the children

Pray to the gods

Feel the wind

Because if they did …

They would realise how stupid it is

To worry about a pile of bricks and mortar

And not your own heart and mind

To race off to work

And the Bar

And the store

To hurry up to go nowhere

Nowhere at all

~ Juni

You don’t have to climb mountains
Go through complicated rituals
Or follow some guru around
All you have to do
Is accept that you are part of god
And god is part of you
Failures, mistakes and fuck ups included
To honor the Creator
Celebrate all of Creation
Look around you
The air moves, the trees grow
Cells divide, suns are born
solar systems spin, ants march
animals die, leaves fall
fruit rots, lava flows
You breathe
Everything is always going
Doing, moving, flowing, growing, and changing
Do you really expect all this to suddenly stop and be still and calm and peaceful
Just because you have decided to meditate for thirty minutes?
Do you really expect a spiritual experience to always be a kind of stillness?
You cannot blank your mind
Or stop the growth of your Self
Any more than you could stop the wind
They are all parts of the same Whole
Just be
Breathe with the land
Love what you love
Celebrate all of Creation
Including yourself