Twilight Covening: Year 2
I got a lot out of Twilight Covening last year, so I decided to go again.
This year, I didn't go over by myself; rather dannarra and mzrowan rode over with me. I got on the road in a much more timely fashion this year, and even with the traffic between here and 84, it went smoothly and quickly. The company was lively, and help keep me alert for the long ride over.
As soon as I was on site, I felt very glad to have came. Wandering the dining hall, it felt like home; the many faces, most of which were unfamiliar, seemed inviting and open. That held true throughout the weekend.
In terms of significant-feeling events of the weekend, there were several. At our first clan meeting, we spoke about the upcoming releasing fire; I had known for weeks, months, that this was coming, but I hadn't settled on what I wanted to release exactly. Many things had competed in my mind, but I hadn't settled on anything in particular. So as our meeting was wrapping up, I pulled out a paper and started marking the sigils I saw there, looking to pull the clutter from me and make me ready to release. My initial thoughts were about everyone else, folks back at home, folks there in my clan; I was thinking that I wanted to clear away all blocks for them, to make them open and ready for what was to come. However, in thinking that, that which speaks to me said "That's all fine and good, but what about you - what are you here to work on, what do you need to release?" I turned my thoughts inward and reflected as the time to head down to the fire came. At first, there was this structure of rejection with in me, a notion of how I had been turned away in various ways, rejected in love, in friendship, in belonging, in family. At these thoughts, I could feel a complex structure of tangled roots and thorny vines, forming a net over a great stone that sat at my heart. However, I was pushed to look harder. The vines wrapped and held the stone of my heart; they felt like other, but gradually, I came to see they were not other, they were of me. Deeper I went as I dance around the first and second fires. The vines and thorns, they were my reaction to the rejection of others; some small childish part of me emerged - spiteful, vengeful, and hurt. They had rejected me - all of them out there - they had turned away from me, and so I would not let them see, not let them have this secret thing, this great gift, deep within me. I would hold it away from them all; they would never even know what they didn't have. It would be all mine. This sad and hurt part of me was angry to have me poking about, probing at the vines, but I comforted it and embraced it. This vengeful anger was holing back something beautiful within me; it wasn't hurting the world to do this, at least not so that the world would know. It was only making me dark and incomplete. Tears came, and I knew what I had to burn; when I went to the releasing fire, and threw in those sigils I had marked, the vines in my heart cried out and pulled away from the stone within me. In but a moment, the stone was bonfire itself, and few vines dared to touch it; those that did were scorched by its heat. As I walked on pass the releasing fire, down to the lake, the fiery stone lifted from its place among the vines, floating up, out of me; as it did it grew hotter, brighter, and then finally blazed with white light. It became a star, beautiful and wonderful, with radiant lines reaching out and touching all things. I wept, ashamed that I had held it so long, that I had allowed it to become so cold and dark. At first, I thought it was to leave me, but then felt how it was connected to me, how I was part of it; I was, in fact, its eyes. It was the earth-born star, so I felt, and I was the one who could help it understand. In all of its greatness and brightness, it could not truly grasp us - the beings that we are; it could only feel our darkness and pain. With my eyes, it could see and help. That was who I was meant to be, the servant of the earth-born star - not its guardian or keeper. I had failed in my responsibility to it, something promised long ago. I had thought I had know what was best, that I knew who it should help and who was not worthy of it. Now, I could see how far I had drifted from the path. It comforted me, completely understanding, completely without anger or upsetness as to what had happened. It was so happy to have me, once again, understand it that there was no room for admonishment.
I walked back to the fire, where others were still dancing about, preparing themselves. I could see how the black smoking coiled about them, blinding them; as I looked at each of them, the star shone down up them, through them, filling them, freeing them of their weight. This was not something I could do, but certainly it was within the power of the star for whom I was the eyes. Gradually, my sadness settled a bit. dannarra showed up and I clumsily tried to articulate the experience, crying more. She was understanding and comforting, as always.
Another profound experience from the weekend was when we were in one of our early clan meetings. We had been directed to bring a stone from near our home; there actually aren't many stones near my house, so this was tricky. I found a somewhat ugly, jagged piece of slate - irregular enough that I was certain that it was not like a old roof tile or some such. As jagged as it was, it fit in my hand comfortably enough. As part of our clan practice, we were to hold the stone in our hand, to breath long full breaths, and stare only at the stone. All the while, in our mind, we were to think "stone" over and over again. We kept this up for a long time - truly, I have no idea how long. Over this time, the stone seemed to transform in my hand. Where first it had seemed plain and ugly, many colors emerged from it, most notably deep purples. Patterns showed up on its surface, small designs, ridges, complexity far beyond what I had originally noticed. Over time, I saw that the stone had a structure within it that looked like an eye. The iris of this eye seemed to flash with a white light several times as I watched. The stone felt to me as if it were living, breathing there in my hand. It felt familiar, as if I had known it forever; it seemed to be of me, and for a moment, my hands were stone; sometimes, it was flesh. In the end, when the ritual was over and I went to put the stone away, I put it into my lap; I was worried that it would feel cold if I put it back in the bag from which it came. Even now, days later, when I look at the stone, I feel a great significance from it. Yet, I also know that it is just a key to see the greater significance in all things, things so small and common that I hardly see them in all their wonder and beauty.
We did a similar experiment a few days later, this time, with a mirror. I stared at my own reflection for 45 minutes (we were told in advance how long it was going to be). As I watched, my face transformed. I was my father; I was myself as a child. An otherness came to the face, it became the face of my great mentor, the being who watches over me. He smiled and comforted me; I felt a rush of love and wonder to finally be able to look into his eyes. They weren't just his eyes, but the eyes of the many, those who sat beyond, those who watched, and wanted to reach in. However, he was the closest, and he was the most familiar. When the time came to end the ritual, I felt a rush of sadness and fear. What if I couldn't see him again. He assured me that he wasn't going anywhere, and I was comforted.
The grand ritual of the weekend was, as last year, extremely profound for me. Similar to the releasing fire, the journey through the night had me face up to how I tried to control and limit the great things that would touch me; I was afraid, and in this fear, I tried to understand and qualify these things; to explain them, to give them a structure that I could capture and limit. By that, I could feel control - but as I learned, this was only an illusion of control. As I visited each of the spirits along the path of this journey through the darkness, each in turn had me face up to my fear, and had me release those ways that I bound the unknowable in my efforts to control it. It was difficult. Control is a big part of me; however, as I had learned at the releasing fire, my efforts to control were sometimes, often times probably, foolish and short sighted. These mysteries, they could not remain great and large if I imprisoned them in my "understanding." However, I was so afraid not to have this understanding, even if it was foolish and error-filled. One of the presences that speaks to me was there for the journey. He smiled at me, and was amused by me, the way that an adult is when a small child tries to explain how the whole world works. He was openly listening to me, but likewise, I could feel the gentle way in which he was handling me, trying not to make me feel like a fool, though my mouth and mind were full to the top with childish thoughts.
At one part in my journey, when I was particularly distraught, he asked me to speak the truth, and I found myself saying "I am a child of the star"; he prompted me to continue; "I walk the star path." Upon saying it, an understanding beyond understanding swept through me and the tears came rushing down, in relief. While I could not hold on to the understanding, for I am here in this world, in this flesh, for a moment I was to feel the truth beyond understanding. It was vastly comforting, even if my mind could not keep it together. It flowed through me, soothing me and allowing me to feel at ease.
Along the journey, I came upon a crow-being; she spoke with me about fear, how it held me, trapped me; she suggested perhaps I could better live were I to dance with that fear, to know it, and not be mastered by it. So I danced with her. It was a beautiful dance, and my ears were full of music. I didn't realize until the next day that there was no music actually playing in that moment - that it had all been in my ears only, not somehow playing there in the forest that night. Even now, I can feel that music, that moment; it is as if some part of me is still there dancing now. That pleases me in a way that is difficult to articulate.
The whole of the weekend was a great experience for me; my clan leader was a man who felt extremely open and gentle, and very wise as well. He kept us progressively moving forward all weekend, without ever making things feel rushed; I was surprised with how much he was able to draw out of the very diverse group that composed my clan. It was impressive. There was some subtle and beautiful quality to him. I was glad to have him there as a guide.
There is more, but I am out of typing time. Suffice to say, I am feeling very free and soothed right now. It was a wonderful weekend, and I'm quite glad to have gone.
This entry was originally posted at http://majes.dreamwidth.org/427575.html. Please comment here using OpenID. There are currently
comments
This year, I didn't go over by myself; rather dannarra and mzrowan rode over with me. I got on the road in a much more timely fashion this year, and even with the traffic between here and 84, it went smoothly and quickly. The company was lively, and help keep me alert for the long ride over.
As soon as I was on site, I felt very glad to have came. Wandering the dining hall, it felt like home; the many faces, most of which were unfamiliar, seemed inviting and open. That held true throughout the weekend.
In terms of significant-feeling events of the weekend, there were several. At our first clan meeting, we spoke about the upcoming releasing fire; I had known for weeks, months, that this was coming, but I hadn't settled on what I wanted to release exactly. Many things had competed in my mind, but I hadn't settled on anything in particular. So as our meeting was wrapping up, I pulled out a paper and started marking the sigils I saw there, looking to pull the clutter from me and make me ready to release. My initial thoughts were about everyone else, folks back at home, folks there in my clan; I was thinking that I wanted to clear away all blocks for them, to make them open and ready for what was to come. However, in thinking that, that which speaks to me said "That's all fine and good, but what about you - what are you here to work on, what do you need to release?" I turned my thoughts inward and reflected as the time to head down to the fire came. At first, there was this structure of rejection with in me, a notion of how I had been turned away in various ways, rejected in love, in friendship, in belonging, in family. At these thoughts, I could feel a complex structure of tangled roots and thorny vines, forming a net over a great stone that sat at my heart. However, I was pushed to look harder. The vines wrapped and held the stone of my heart; they felt like other, but gradually, I came to see they were not other, they were of me. Deeper I went as I dance around the first and second fires. The vines and thorns, they were my reaction to the rejection of others; some small childish part of me emerged - spiteful, vengeful, and hurt. They had rejected me - all of them out there - they had turned away from me, and so I would not let them see, not let them have this secret thing, this great gift, deep within me. I would hold it away from them all; they would never even know what they didn't have. It would be all mine. This sad and hurt part of me was angry to have me poking about, probing at the vines, but I comforted it and embraced it. This vengeful anger was holing back something beautiful within me; it wasn't hurting the world to do this, at least not so that the world would know. It was only making me dark and incomplete. Tears came, and I knew what I had to burn; when I went to the releasing fire, and threw in those sigils I had marked, the vines in my heart cried out and pulled away from the stone within me. In but a moment, the stone was bonfire itself, and few vines dared to touch it; those that did were scorched by its heat. As I walked on pass the releasing fire, down to the lake, the fiery stone lifted from its place among the vines, floating up, out of me; as it did it grew hotter, brighter, and then finally blazed with white light. It became a star, beautiful and wonderful, with radiant lines reaching out and touching all things. I wept, ashamed that I had held it so long, that I had allowed it to become so cold and dark. At first, I thought it was to leave me, but then felt how it was connected to me, how I was part of it; I was, in fact, its eyes. It was the earth-born star, so I felt, and I was the one who could help it understand. In all of its greatness and brightness, it could not truly grasp us - the beings that we are; it could only feel our darkness and pain. With my eyes, it could see and help. That was who I was meant to be, the servant of the earth-born star - not its guardian or keeper. I had failed in my responsibility to it, something promised long ago. I had thought I had know what was best, that I knew who it should help and who was not worthy of it. Now, I could see how far I had drifted from the path. It comforted me, completely understanding, completely without anger or upsetness as to what had happened. It was so happy to have me, once again, understand it that there was no room for admonishment.
I walked back to the fire, where others were still dancing about, preparing themselves. I could see how the black smoking coiled about them, blinding them; as I looked at each of them, the star shone down up them, through them, filling them, freeing them of their weight. This was not something I could do, but certainly it was within the power of the star for whom I was the eyes. Gradually, my sadness settled a bit. dannarra showed up and I clumsily tried to articulate the experience, crying more. She was understanding and comforting, as always.
Another profound experience from the weekend was when we were in one of our early clan meetings. We had been directed to bring a stone from near our home; there actually aren't many stones near my house, so this was tricky. I found a somewhat ugly, jagged piece of slate - irregular enough that I was certain that it was not like a old roof tile or some such. As jagged as it was, it fit in my hand comfortably enough. As part of our clan practice, we were to hold the stone in our hand, to breath long full breaths, and stare only at the stone. All the while, in our mind, we were to think "stone" over and over again. We kept this up for a long time - truly, I have no idea how long. Over this time, the stone seemed to transform in my hand. Where first it had seemed plain and ugly, many colors emerged from it, most notably deep purples. Patterns showed up on its surface, small designs, ridges, complexity far beyond what I had originally noticed. Over time, I saw that the stone had a structure within it that looked like an eye. The iris of this eye seemed to flash with a white light several times as I watched. The stone felt to me as if it were living, breathing there in my hand. It felt familiar, as if I had known it forever; it seemed to be of me, and for a moment, my hands were stone; sometimes, it was flesh. In the end, when the ritual was over and I went to put the stone away, I put it into my lap; I was worried that it would feel cold if I put it back in the bag from which it came. Even now, days later, when I look at the stone, I feel a great significance from it. Yet, I also know that it is just a key to see the greater significance in all things, things so small and common that I hardly see them in all their wonder and beauty.
We did a similar experiment a few days later, this time, with a mirror. I stared at my own reflection for 45 minutes (we were told in advance how long it was going to be). As I watched, my face transformed. I was my father; I was myself as a child. An otherness came to the face, it became the face of my great mentor, the being who watches over me. He smiled and comforted me; I felt a rush of love and wonder to finally be able to look into his eyes. They weren't just his eyes, but the eyes of the many, those who sat beyond, those who watched, and wanted to reach in. However, he was the closest, and he was the most familiar. When the time came to end the ritual, I felt a rush of sadness and fear. What if I couldn't see him again. He assured me that he wasn't going anywhere, and I was comforted.
The grand ritual of the weekend was, as last year, extremely profound for me. Similar to the releasing fire, the journey through the night had me face up to how I tried to control and limit the great things that would touch me; I was afraid, and in this fear, I tried to understand and qualify these things; to explain them, to give them a structure that I could capture and limit. By that, I could feel control - but as I learned, this was only an illusion of control. As I visited each of the spirits along the path of this journey through the darkness, each in turn had me face up to my fear, and had me release those ways that I bound the unknowable in my efforts to control it. It was difficult. Control is a big part of me; however, as I had learned at the releasing fire, my efforts to control were sometimes, often times probably, foolish and short sighted. These mysteries, they could not remain great and large if I imprisoned them in my "understanding." However, I was so afraid not to have this understanding, even if it was foolish and error-filled. One of the presences that speaks to me was there for the journey. He smiled at me, and was amused by me, the way that an adult is when a small child tries to explain how the whole world works. He was openly listening to me, but likewise, I could feel the gentle way in which he was handling me, trying not to make me feel like a fool, though my mouth and mind were full to the top with childish thoughts.
At one part in my journey, when I was particularly distraught, he asked me to speak the truth, and I found myself saying "I am a child of the star"; he prompted me to continue; "I walk the star path." Upon saying it, an understanding beyond understanding swept through me and the tears came rushing down, in relief. While I could not hold on to the understanding, for I am here in this world, in this flesh, for a moment I was to feel the truth beyond understanding. It was vastly comforting, even if my mind could not keep it together. It flowed through me, soothing me and allowing me to feel at ease.
Along the journey, I came upon a crow-being; she spoke with me about fear, how it held me, trapped me; she suggested perhaps I could better live were I to dance with that fear, to know it, and not be mastered by it. So I danced with her. It was a beautiful dance, and my ears were full of music. I didn't realize until the next day that there was no music actually playing in that moment - that it had all been in my ears only, not somehow playing there in the forest that night. Even now, I can feel that music, that moment; it is as if some part of me is still there dancing now. That pleases me in a way that is difficult to articulate.
The whole of the weekend was a great experience for me; my clan leader was a man who felt extremely open and gentle, and very wise as well. He kept us progressively moving forward all weekend, without ever making things feel rushed; I was surprised with how much he was able to draw out of the very diverse group that composed my clan. It was impressive. There was some subtle and beautiful quality to him. I was glad to have him there as a guide.
There is more, but I am out of typing time. Suffice to say, I am feeling very free and soothed right now. It was a wonderful weekend, and I'm quite glad to have gone.
This entry was originally posted at http://majes.dreamwidth.org/427575.html. Please comment here using OpenID. There are currently
comments