Solstice EnVision

June 21, 2010

Sunday night/ early monday morning. Another summer solstice, another longest day of the year. I enter the cedar steam pod with an open heart, naked, craving metaphysical experience. Eagerly perched on the cusp of the Astral plane. There are roughly seven to ten beings experiencing the steam as I enter. The door swings closed behind me, leaving us in darkness, save for the soft ember glow from the hot iron in the centre. We settle in, new energy mingling with energies already established in the sacred space.

Delicate sage burns. We pass around a cold bottle of drinking water that has been brought into the steam as an offering. Everybody takes a hydrating gulp, a collective contented sigh. A general sense of coming together is evident, in spite of unknown identities. Connection without social recognition is profound. We begin to sing together, steadily humming at first. Just a few notes,  climbing to a joyous laughing row. Our voices rise and fall, harmonizing, pulsing out a beat. Steadily we increase in volume, an energetic buzz becomes visibly present.

Each time the steam billows from the red hot iron, we are able to ride the gentle ripple effect which brings us deeper into our true self. In turn, further immersing us with one another. It’s as if we are bathing in a hot spring, a warm bath of divine intuition, delicately swirling not only our limbs but our most intimate spirit in the nourishing waters. Some mystics consider warm water to be a representation of our most in depth emotions. We feel absolute empathy for one another, without the clumsy use of words. Every one of us is as we are intended to be. Caring for ourselves as well as for our peers.

Throughout the night I emerge to the fresh air once every hour or so. By four a.m. the sky is bright with waves of deep fuchsia and royal purple. The sun is rising before the moon has had a chance to sink behind the trees. For a moment, they share the immense majesty of the star streaked sky, illuminating our conscious path. I retrieve a linen sarong from where I had draped it over the low bough of an oak tree near by, and wrap it around my dewy skin. The morning air is fresh and a bit chilly. A huge bonfire is burning just out side of the steam pod. There are a few beings gathered around it, drying themselves in it’s heat, reflecting upon experiences past. Ceremonious rite. Some tap out a rhythm. Low drumming echoes into the vastness of the pale prairie sky.

Singing a quiet mantra, I join the people who are enjoying the fire. With eyes closed I can recognize the voices of the beings with which I’d been immersed in the steam. I feel the vibration from the drums on my cheeks and fluttering my lashes. The sound resonates deep inside of my chest. I can escape to reflect on heights of healing, leaps and bounds. After a meditation on this sensation, I am guided back in to the embrace of the steam.

This time, we raise our voices individually. We receive each others stories, each persons journey, one by one. When it’s my turn, I tell of my son. It is the first time that I have ever spoken of him in an intimate way with people that I have only just met. Tears flow freely, my voice waivers as I recount my journey with him, into the darkness. All are listening attentively, encouraging me to go on until there is nothing more that I can say of him. We finish sharing, empathy and love are offered from each and every being there. We sing together, we uplift and energize one another.

The being beside me takes leave of the heat. Light seeps briefly in from the open door, then is sucked out again quickly as the door swings closed. In the darkness I can feel a distinct presence beside me, although no physical being occupies the space. A light from within is conjured to illuminate just the space that I long to visualize. A young boy sits beside me, naked, bright red hair plastered with sweat. He is peering intently into my face. His mouth opens, singing in harmony with my own voice.

My heart soars at the chance to share this sacred ceremony with him. Another being pours more water on to the hot iron in the centre of the cedar pod. The steam that billows from it forms a soft image, like the beat of a thousand butterfly’s wings. They quickly morph to form the outline of a young boy, hands in his pockets, happily skipping rocks into a sprawling river. He shows me his journey; I am completely at peace. The image fades as I am gently embraced by the person sitting on the other side of me…

A Muse, Amusing

June 21, 2009

I`m on a misty river bank, high as a kite on mushroom tea, calling to mind each and every moment of his short, yet profoundly earth shattering life. Perfectly still I am, breathing deeply, clinging to one of his little blankets.

I whisper his name into the mist. Tears stream down my face. I am able to meditate, to step outside of myself and in to the astral plain. Being here allows me to relive my brief experience with motherhood. Memories which, up until now, I had been too hurt and ashamed of myself to really feel. Rather than using them to heal, cherishing them, I`d been drowning them with alcohol. In this moment, I find myself aware, uplifted, needing to feel each and every emotion. Especially the hardest to face.

It is very early in the morning, on the fifth anniversary of his death. June twenty-first, the summer solstice. The longest and brightest day of the year. At five a.m., the sun is already painting brilliant pink streaks across the prairie sky.

I kneel down in the mud, bending to sink my hands in to the warm earth. Turning my gaze towards the sky, I am gifted with a fantastic vision. A mirage displayed just before the bend over a foggy river bed.  Words begin to bubble up from a light and special place. I pick up my journal, which is splayed out beside me. I sit down and begin to write down what I envision in the sky…

…His free spirit boldly emerges before me. A care-free yellow butterfly… dancing in flits and flutters. Human form would not have suited my graceful little muse. Wrapped in his warmth here, I am allowed to watch him play. A young mothers` dream realized. Affirmation that her offspring has evolved from a tiny embryo, into precisely the magnificence that his destiny had hoped for him. He shows me where he’s been.

With this rare and special glimpse of him unfolding, I am able to reach an understanding as to why he couldn’t stay with me on Earth. Simple human emotion is suddenly irrelevant. Clearer perception, brought about by his timeless wisdom, guides my merciful heart into healing. A deeper realm of consciousness is exposed. Here, a place is found where heartache is impossible. Awareness is the key. Profound sense of connection will finally wash away any resentment left on my soul, energy healing…

A gentle breeze from his wings summons a breath, scattering seeds of contentment in the warmth of the solstice sunrise. Seeds multiply, instantaneously growing many beautiful weeds. A fuzzy blanketed field emerges, soft and white, comforting, igniting a spark of faith in the ability of endless, unconditional love…

 

A friend took this photo of me, having this vision. NCF 2009, Driftpile River, Alberta Canada.

Image