I have been doing quite a bit of traveling lately, and it’s been focused on my deep contemplations on my worldview. Every practitioner I think should take stock of how they approach the world, why, who’s there, and how they approach. Mine has been changing.
The sun is still an hour-hand, the moon is the minute hand of the clock that belongs to the Avian One, or a ‘Father Time,’ figure. The world around me is woven moment by moment, and the Underworld still echoes in my ears when I find a moment of silence, or stillness. Places, and even inanimate things have spirit because of the hands that imbued it, even modern ones that are still functioning today. Even a new home that was build with mindful hands already has spirit born into it.
The land is what moves me, the ghosts of memory and then some, the newly forming ones that are born tomorrow. Feeling out of place with society, yet understanding it better from the fringe. Walking along the river, to hearing the fluctuations in the songs of the birds as the seasons change. Being able to predict the geese as they migrated, and I flew as a goose myself (got shot for my efforts).
I have been traveling, not just locally. I’ve had vivid dreams lately, of traveling on a horse, but my compass was shattered. But I needed to press on. The land around me was so full I couldn’t take it all in despite trying. I wake up with nosebleeds, headaches, and my ears ringing. I’m not sure, but these past four moons have been intense. Have they been for anyone else?