Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Equinox Oracle

In keeping with my tradition of drawing a rune on the high holy days of the wheel of the year -- the Solstices and Equinoxes -- I pull out my little bag of oval stones and pour them onto the kitchen table.

When I place my hands over them, both thumbs rest on the same smooth stone, Kano -- the Rune of Opening and renewed clarity.  The message in The Book of Runes is so validating that it makes me catch my breath.

Earlier in the evening, I invited the Moon Goddesses (smile) of our meditation circle to draw a rune if they felt so inclined, after coming out of meditation.  I was visiting but I noticed some of the women drawing stones and going into the study to copy their messages.  I had invited them to do this so they could quickly pass the little book along to the next one looking to interpret the glyph inscribed on the stone. Because I was not paying close attention, I wondered later, as I drew my own rune, whether I had adequately introduced this self-reflective practice -- other than describing it as heavy duty!  The runes don't fool around; they often come right to the point and may not be as feel-good as the angel cards, for example.

This moment of doubt threatens to pull me in like quicksand.  The meditation itself, was it too complicated?  Did I try to do too much in one sitting? Self-healing and Earth-healing?  The pranic body we discussed -- might the new people have thought that was just too weird?  A spirit twin? An etheric double of my physical body that needs clearing and strengthening to create balance and clarity?  Tuning into the central pranic channel -- was it reasonable to expect this on the first night? To ask them to imagine themselves in the very center of the earth, drawing in celestial and terrestrial energies and radiating them out into the body of the great mother earth? OMG. Moment of panic: was it all just too much?

Apparently not.

Recognize that while on the one hand you are limited and dependent, on the other you exist at the perfect center where the harmonious and beneficent forces of the universe merge and radiate.  You are that center.

Exactly what we had done in meditation!

The author of this little book, Robert Blum, says that the Oracle's reply will always be timely and instructive.

Uh, yeah.

Forces converge when women gather.  Remember this, I tell myself, noticing how doubt has been effortlessly vanquished by the sea of prana pervading our sacred space.

Thank-you Spirit.

Friday, September 19, 2014


Today I was visited by heartbreak.

Not mine but a client whose tender heart was raw with exposure and rejection.

As he told his story, his eyes became even more vivid blue, washed with tears.  I listened deeply as he unwound the wound -- a friendship grew into deeper feeling on his part, but not on hers.  Crushed, he kept bringing his hand to his heart.

As I placed my hands, I found swirling tension in his head, as he had been replaying his situation over and over in his mind.  In time, it calmed a little, clearing a path toward the hurting heart.  I tentatively placed my hand on the middle of his chest and found the energy there contracted in pain. I withdrew my palm, lightly placing fingertips instead, inviting Spirit into our healing circle. Soon celestial energy was pouring in through this young man's crown chakra and encircling his protected heart.

It spun like a galaxy of stars, scintillating green light. While the physical heart remained protected, the energetic heart space opened to circulate this celestial light energy, soothing and assuaging the constricted area like a warm whirlpool.

I heard the word confidence in connection with this inflow.  In my head, I'm wondering, Confidence? We seem to have the opposite here....  And yet I was given to understand that this beautiful soul, if he refused to let this experience defeat him,would emerge intact.  If he took very good care of himself, boosting his immunity against further emotional inflammation. If he expressed his feelings -- with friends, into a journal, or playing an instrument.  If he refused to withdraw into isolation and instead chose to extend himself to others -- to find or create community.  If he attended to the practical matters of his life -- getting out for groceries, engaging with his students, hanging out with his housemates -- perspective would be restored and he would emerge from this dark passage with ... confidence.

As I spoke of this he looked doubtful.  I acknowledged  that some time under the covers is allowable, smile.  It's OK to mourn what might have been.  But be on guard against self-pity and retracting into isolation.

Be aware of that celestial energy of divine love swirling within.  You are loved without condition.

I instructed him on how to activate this for himself when needed and to honor this gift of Spirit.

We embraced, truly heart to heart, and as he pulled away, I imagined I saw the light of that love already glimmering in his sky blue eyes.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Intimations of Autumn

Upon awakening, I reach for the lightweight down coverlet and pull it up around my shoulders.  The morning is crisp and fresh.  Light slants through the blinds at an end-of-summer angle,  beckoning me out of bed.  I pull on a sweatshirt, knowing that time has come.

On my walk, I find a smattering of orange leaves floating serenely on the pond.  Overhead, leaves on lower branches are tinged.  Across the water, the vibrant green of summer has begun to mellow.  The cattail grasses are drying to straw.

Last night around mid-night I stepped outside to check the northern skies.  There had been reports of northern lights and I was on the look-out for the waving luminous curtains I'd seen online.  It was a rare clear night with clusters of stars usually not visible amidst the more familiar summer constellations. By then the big dipper had set. Craning my neck in awe, I inhaled the late summer sky, breathing it into my being.  At the same time I felt it inhaling me.

In another late summer ritual, I emptied our front porch urns of their leggy petunias and scrappy salvia, replacing them with farm stand finds.  Ornamental millet looks like a glossy brown corn stalk, with fronds waving on top.  It's halloween-ish!  I surround these with a spiraling heads of silvery- green kale, yellow, orange and red ornamental peppers and  tiny purple mums.


I've been sitting outside at in the evenings after dinner, reading and soaking up the last light of the ever-shortening days.  The air is dusky.  One knows that the earth and sun are shifting in relation to each other as one season comes to a close and another dawns.

I notice myself not mourning the passing of summer.

This new season of harvest promises riches of its own.