Category Archives: Call Me The Seeker

Caravanning to the Source

Writers talk about this frequently. Fiction writers often say that a character wouldn’t do what they wanted, or that the characters took over the story. Of course our characters aren’t real; they can’t really take over a story, they can’t really take on a life of their own.

So where does the writing come from? And why do we have so little control?
Yvonne Spence

Dorothea Brande

Click to read a review by Yvonne Spence

Because no one has precisely pinned down where ideas come from writers, who love to speculate, have proposed endless theories. Stephen Johnson talks about networked inspiration and how the cafe culture provides a pot in which creativity may bubble and boil. There is little doubt that creativity flourished in the melting pot of the French Salons where copious amounts of coffee may or may not have been served.

At one time I was going around talking about the creation myths suggesting that like the universe and earth itself it all began within a swirling mass of nothing. I had students closing their eyes, looking at nothing; writing about what they saw when they saw nothing. As I recall we also speculated about whether the answer lay in the roots of trees. We considered the deep roots that we are able to tap into. Carl Jung named this the ‘collective unconscious’ and many incredibly popular self help books, written by people like Dorothea Brande and Julia Cameron (The Artist’s Way) have written extensively on the subject.

A personal favourite of mine is The Borderland: An exploration of theology in English literature, a book by Roger Bradshaigh Lloyd. My copy of this text quite literally leapt from the bookshelf  into my The Borderland by Roger Lloydhand in one of the second hand book shops that I frequent. Lloyd, an influential Anglican Priest talked about the Lord, or King of the Borderland being ‘Inspiration’.  He names the Holy Ghost, of whom ‘no man has ever dared to give a human name’ as the sovereign of the Borderland in which the artist resides and suggests that answers to the unanswerable may be found in the Nicene Creed. Of course, at the time this affirmed my speculation that like God, in the book of Genesis, the artist makes something out of nothing. The artist is a creator, as compared to a manufacturer. One of the problems I see with self help books is that they encourage us to believe that we can manufacture things. Like Lloyd I do not believe that there is anything immoral in the “composition of pure pot-boilers since pots do need to boil if anything is to be written at all”.  I do believe that we are truly creative when we are propelled by passion and find our way of tapping into the source.

With that in mind I welcome assorted story tellers, troubadours, hags, crazy people, trance tellers, bards, traveling poets, prophets, visionaries, charismatic preachers, spellbinders and holy people to join the caravan of donkeys heading towards the source. My hope is that this amazing collective will reveal quite unique ways of tapping into what artists perceive to be ‘the holy grail’.

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Let’s all drink from the Ace of Cups

The Ace of Cups

For Heather

In my favourite deck

(The Thoth-Crowley Deck)

The Ace of Cups rises from a

Fully open white lotus blossom,

Which is the symbol of

Love of a giving nature.

It is the feminine counterpart of

The Ace of Wands;

Open, receptive, surrendering;

Bearing the transformatory

Power of giving love.

The key words are overflowing love,

Emotional clarity,

Deep love of the self,

Giving and receiving.

The giving of love happens effortlessly.

That which continually flows into us from

The boundless abundance of the

Universe radiates outward again by itself,

If we remain open and receptive.

This giving is not dependent on individual,

Perhaps close people.

There is so much to share!

All of existence can take part in it.

Becoming one with the

All-embracing,

Omnipresent love

Is such a silent ecstasy.

The affirmation is:

All-encompassing love fills me and my environment.

From The Wheel of Change:

The cup is a potent symbol of

Containment,

Protection, and

Enclosure.

It is a vessel of magic,

Allowing us to control liquids

That would otherwise

Escape our practical use.

The cup or chalice is also associated

With the original container of life,

The womb.

The Ace of Cups

Is the most

Elemental and

Original expression

Of the

Water Element.

All life originally

Evolved in the

Primordial

Womb of the

Sea.

It was the

Dark,

Concealing,

Protective

Mother;

Where life was

Cradled

Before it

Emerged and

Crawled to land.

Again:

The central cup of this card

Is the Ardagh Chalice,

One of the finest

Examples

Of early

Christian Celtic art,

Crafted in Ireland

In the early eighth Century.

Ireland is a

Mystical land of

Water and feeling.

The mist of the

Island, and its

Green foelds

Represent the

Fertile Goddess and

Her mystery,

Which lives

So deep in the

Hearts of the

Irish People.

The Ace represents

Emotion in an

Undivided state,

A type of

Feeling we rarely

Experience

As we grow

Older and learn to

Stand back from

Our feelings

So that we may

Interpret and

Analyse them.

In the

Rumi Tarot,

The Ace of Cups

Represents the

Intoxicating wine of

Divine Ecstasy

Imbibed within the

Tavern of Ruin

Served by the

Cupbearer, or

Saki , as

Celebrated by many

Arab-Persian poets.

This

Talismanic Cup is the

Jewelled Chalice of

Jamshid,

The mythical

King of Persia,

Which contained the

Divine Elixer of

Intoxication and

Immortality, and in

Whose Depths

All things occurring in the

Seven Heavenly

Spheres were revealed to

The Seer.

The cup,

Chalice, or

Vessel also

Symbolises the

Feminine womb,

Which in the

Arabic language is

Called

Rahim.

Found Poetry

My friend Shiloh did a post on Found Poetry a couple days ago {http://sunnydreamer.net/2010/found-poetry1.shtml} and I thought that I would give it a try, Since almost all of my fiction books await me in storage, I went ahead and used books form my grimoire they ended up being books that accompany two of my Tarot decks: The Wheel of Change Tarot and the Thoth-Crowley Tarot.

The Thoth-Crowley is the deck I use the most for my personal queries, and the card I have chosen as my Significator is  The Queen of Wands (or Staves, or Batons),  and she reflects a lot of what the affirmations are saying I have also used the post for my tarot Journey with the Rumi Tarot.

Found Poetry One:

Wheel of Change Tarot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Fool is

An expression of the

Possibilities that

Cannot be fixed,

And are open-ended.

The Hermit represents

What is really

 True and right

For you

Is within you

Waiting to be noticed.

The Wheel of Fortune

Asks you to

Make an opportunity

For self-understanding and

Self-growth through the

Mirror of the outer world.

From the Three of Wands

We learn that

The personal goal

Is to use your creative power

In a way that enhances

Your own life and

The lives of others.

On the Ace of Cups

The central Cup

Is the Ardagh Chalice

One of the

Finest examples of

Early Christian Celtic art.

It represents

The soul’s journey

 Toward the setting sun

And the Western Lands.

The Lands of Shadow

And Darkness.

It is there

That we discover

Our deepest passions

And make connexions

With others that

Transcend our limitations

Found Poetry Two

 The Thoth-Crowley Tarot Deck

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This one speaks from The Thoth-Crowley Tarot Deck, which is my personal favourite for Spiritual Lessons. I think I will use a series of the Affirmations from this deck.

I am now ready for the new beauty in my life.

(Princess of Discs or Pentacles)

 

I find the strength I now need in my centre.

(Three of Wands or Staves)

 

I surrender to the transforming powers of the Divine. I am an open channel for creative energy.

(Art or Temperance)

 

I know more and more clearly who I am. This recognition leads to the full development of my personal strength.

(Nine of Wands or Staves)

 

I am loved, simply because I am the way that I am.

(Nine of Swords)

 

I am a radiant being filled with Light and Love.

(Queen of Wands or Staves)

 

I am now ready to give everything and receive everything.

(Three of Discs or Pentacles)

 

I have the power and virtue to reflect and know.

 (Three of Wands or Staves)

 

I relax and trust Life.

(Eight of Discs or Pentacles)

 

I have the courage to believe that all that happens in my life serves for the best.

 (Seven of Discs or Pentacles)

 

 

Joseph’s Return

The short story below is based on both my genealogical research and a family legend about “Big Joe DuBay a logger in 19th century Michigan.:

‘Manda watched the road every day for Joseph’s return, she knew that the heavy frosts at night would send the loggers home from the camp for the winter. She dreaded the summers, with him somewhere in the eerily dense forests beyond their small farm.

She didn’t complain about being the one to tend the crops and care for the animals, she was used to the hard work. She even enjoyed the opportunity to wear pants instead of her heavy skirts. She was cooler as she walked the rows of corn, squash, tomatoes, beans, and even some rice in the lowest part of their property.

The wheat and hay was saved for the cows and Joseph’s prized Percheron pair, a well-matched mare and stallion. They needed little in the way of aids to plough deep and straight rows for planting, or to mow the hay that kept them sleek and healthy all winter.

Elle and Homme produced a fine foal every year, this year Elle had foaled late, and Joseph did not know that this year’s colt was black instead of dapple-grey. Petit Noir was already getting large and powerful, although he was less than six months old. She petted him every day, and had woven a halter for the colt out of strips of waste fabric from her sewing. How he had strutted the first day she had settled it on his fuzzy black head!

How pleased Joseph would be to return to a farm ready for the winter; she had a pantry full of canned and dried fruit from the woods, She had traded in town for flour, sugar, and coffee. She had gotten a good price for their weaner pigs, especially the gilt that had red and black spots on her white hide. They stood to have a good winter, thanks to both of their hard work.

Their dog, a woolly mixed breed barked, and she heard the joy in his voice, only Joseph’s return would cause that, the children they already had charged out the door, calling, “Papa! Papa!”

‘Manda followed them, taking time to wrap a shawl around her shoulders, the fringe moving in time with her strides. She smiled to herself, by the light of the lantern she could see him distributing maple sugar candy to their children, taking the time to hug each one and greet them by name. He lifted little George to his shoulders and trotted towards her.

“’Manda, my dear wife, I ‘ave missed you so! Augustus ‘as no skill at the cooking, I am wearied of bacon and beans with black bread.” He held her close and inhaled the scent of lavender that always clung to her clothes, and her.

“Zhoseph! I am so glad to see you too. Now I will sleep well at night again. Allez, I ‘ave a fine roast boeuf for dîner with potatoes, beets, and a fine pain complet.”

“Ahhhh… I will eat well again! ‘Ow much wood ‘ave we for the winter?” Though he spoke lightly ‘Manda could hear something in his voice, a sadness he had not had before he left last spring.

“Zhoseph, what ‘as ‘appened?”

“Later, we will talk of it later ma petite.” He leaned over; far enough to kiss the carpenter’s square perfect part in her dark hair. He had spent the summer dreaming of watching her brush it at night, with a single candle bathing her in a golden halo of light.

Joseph’s pre-dinner prayer of thanks was heartfelt, even more deeply than usual. The lamps glowed brightly over the dinner, shining on ‘Manda’s china and silver, both decorated with golden D’s. The table itself gleamed from the patient sanding and oiling Joseph had lavished on it.

Dinner lasted late into the evening, Joseph told the children tales of the kinkajou that had terrorised the trappers, and the doe that had so little fear of them that she raised her twin fawns within sight of their single large cabin. The loggers had taken to leaving treats for the family on a convenient stump. By late summer the fawns would follow Augustus around, butting him with nubs of horns to beg for treats.

Pierre, the dog, gnawed happily on a beef bone under the trestle table Joseph had built to hold their growing family. Little George was settled in Joseph’s lap, leaning trustingly against his father’s 6’5”, well-muscled form. His dark eyes would flutter closed and then open in determination as soon as he heard his father’s voice.

Finally, after a treat of hot chocolate all of the children fell asleep under hand-sewn quilts on their bed of woven rope, under a down mattress. George was rocking slowly in the small bed, Joseph’s foot happily taking his turn at rocking their baby.

“Now, Joseph, tell me what has darkened your heart so?” ‘Manda took her husband’s calloused hands in her own.

“Ahhh, my ‘Manda, a terrible thing ‘appen this summer….” Joseph could not bring himself to look at his dainty, fearless wife.

“You know ‘ow the men are, they grow bored in the evening and seek something to fill the hours they would rather spend with their families. They will drink, gamble, and ‘ave fights to pass these lonely times. I usually spend the time reading, or praying to Le Bon Dieu. I rarely take a drink for drinking will lead to foolish acts

“One night, I did take a drink, I ached worse than usual because the saw had kicked back so many times on an ancien oak. I will not lie; I took more than one drink. “The men were fighting one another, boxing and wrestling.

Paddy, le petit Irlandais, drank more than any and grew hostile. He wished me to fight with ‘im, but I told ‘im non, for he is so much smaller than I, it could never be a fair fight.

“’E would not take my no for an answer and he attack me. I ‘ad no choice but to defend myself. I ‘ated to raise my ‘and to a friend so I did not ‘it as ‘ard as I can, I make a slow uppercut.

“Unfortunelment, he sharge me as I did this, I ‘it Paddy in the nose. He immediately fell down and did not get back up. Augustus check, and Paddy ‘ad died from that one blow.

“’Ow can I ever go to ‘Eaven to be with Le Bon Dieu et L’enfant Jesu after I ‘ave killed my friend? I must spend the rest of my life trying to return to God’s favour.

“I promise you, I will never drink again, nor raise my ‘and to any living thing. I will dedicate my life to Le Bon Dieu. From zees day forwar’ I will not swear and I will pray as often as I can…”

Zhoseph, my dear, it was not your fault, le pauvre Paddy made the mistakes.” ‘Manda cupped her husband’s face in her hands.

Joseph’s face crumpled and he began to sob, tearing sobs that shook his whole frame. Manda stood and buried his face in her stomach, to muffle his cries and not disturb the children.

“It will be all right, my dear, have zee authorities been notified?”

“Yes, Enri rode into the nearest town and brought their sheriff back. After he had spoken with everyone he said that Paddy’s death was an unfortunate accident, and that no-one would be charged.”

“When we go to Mass Sunday…” ‘Manda began.

“I ‘ave already ask Pere Robidaux to say a Mass for Paddy every morning, I pay ‘im too. I ‘ave also made arrangements to ‘elp ‘is widow and children. I personally rode to their ‘ome and apologise to Madame O’Brien…”

“Ahhhhh mon brave, you ‘ave t’ought of ever’t’ing. What did Pere Robidaux say of all this?

“After I confess to ‘im, ‘e give me a penance, an’ ‘e tell me God ‘as forgiven me. I cannot yet forgive myself for what ‘appened.”

“I know Zhoseph, I do not blame you, and I will always love you, for you are a truly good man.”

Ma petite, ‘ow did I ever get so fortunate as to ‘ave you for my bride?”

“You make me laugh, right in the middle of Mass!” ‘Manda kissed Joseph and smiled brightly.

It was then that Joseph knew that he was truly home.

Yeah well… My Family was…

“If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people.”
~Thich Nhat Hanh~

There are any number of people (I’m one) who talk about what their ancestors did and who their ancestors were.  I can’t remember the quote I read about someone bragging about their ancestors is like a turnip; the best part of them is underground.


I’m also one of those who wonder if the tall tales of ancestors are the truth or not.
Can someone prove that his or her ancestor was tossing tea into the Boston Harbor? Was someone’s Great-Great-great-Great Uncle was supposed to go to Little Big Horn with Yellow Hair, but they were ill and the fort Doctor said no to them going?

How can one go about proving their boasts on generations past?  Simple, you do your family tree, or have it done.  Shiloh and I are doing this, and see the opportunity for a lot of writing, both journalistic and creative.


I have been doing mine for about 6 months now and have followed one branch of eight Great-Grandparents all the way back to the 7th century.  I doubt I’ll see any more go back that far but you never know.


Shiloh has been working on hers for a couple weeks so she’s still in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.  We both hope to find ancestors in common.

I hope to prove that there is Native American in my family tree.  Shiloh wants to know more about her Danish ancestors.


We both want to do a series of posts about where our ancestors were during a specific historical event.  Par example, both of our families were already here in the U. S. for the Civil War/War of Northern Aggression.


Since this is a joint project, you’ll be able to access all the posts we make on each of our personal blogs.  We’ll provide an archive and links to the posts so you’ll be able to track our progress.

Here is where you will be able to access everything from Shiloh’s Blog:

http://sunnydreamer.net/2010/ancestry-series.shtml

The Story of the Green Man and His White Lady

Once upon a time, in a small kingdom by the edge of a wide, sweet sea there lived a King and Queen who reigned happily over their people.  There was but one wee grey cloud in sll the kingdom…

The King and Queen were only able to have one child…


The Lady Anemone Fionn, a daughter they deeply adored, for all that she was a solemn, chubby child who preferred the company of books and commoners to days spent gossiping in the court.

Since she was not the prettiest of children and did not have the sprightly temperament of many princesses, they despaired of her ever being happily wed.

So she was allowed to wander among the commoners in sparrow-brown garb, where she learned about love and kindness, as well as tolerance in the huts and shops of the capital city.

As she began to grow older, she accepted the training she would need to be their heir without complaint or rebellion.  She wished to serve her country with the best she could be.

It was early in her training that the first letter from the Green Man came to them, aboard a gaily-painted ship, with sails of exotic silks.  One of the letters was given up to the King and Queen, requesting their daughter’s hand in marriage when she came of age.

The other letter was delivered to the young Lady; from that day on she kept all of the Green Man’s letters in a box of delicate silver filigree.  She wore the key to the box around her neck on a plain silvery chain.

“Anemone Fionn, Sweet lady of the Beaches, you hold my heart in your gentle hands.  My Spirit sings at the merest thought of you, and my heart beats in tune with thine.  When the day comes that all see the beauty I do I shall claim you as my beloved bride.”

His words had lost no power since they had been given to her by a man from the Green Man’s country when she had not yet blossomed into womanhood.

When the arrogant young princelings would laugh at her face and form she would reread them and find much comfort in the words he had written only for her.

When no nearby princes or kings asked for her hand, she begged her parents to accept the Green Man’s pledge, and betroth her to the man who had comforted her, and sparked her mind to discover more about the world than any other Princess deigned to pretend to know.

And so it came to pass, after many long years that the Green Man wrote to the Lady and told her.  “I will be with you in truth with the coming of summer my sweet Lady Anemone.”

Faioléan the seagull perched close to the sorrowful lady and spoke in his skree-ing language.  “Weep not my lady fair.  The Uaine Fear, comes to claim thee, sailing across the wide green seas.”

The lady did return, “O Faioléan tell me true, does he love this plain face of mine?”

“Fear not fair Lady Anemone, the Uaine Fear comes for you, seeking yon beauty across the wide, green seas

The Seagull hopped close enough for the Lady to smell the sea and fish on his feathers, his bright eye locked with hers.

“Fear not dear Lady, for the Uaine Fear cometh to you, seeking your beauty and pure spirit.”

So the lady returned day after day, waiting by the ocean for this secret lover who sought her.

Her pale cheeks were given a golden glow by the sun’s light, and the gentle, salt air of the ocean soothed her breathing so much so that she even stopped coughing.

The dull brown hair that had been so lifeless and limp began to have secret tints of gold in its curls.

The longer she remained by the sea, and forsook the rich food and many sweets in the castle the slimmer her limbs became, and her skin became smooth and honeyed.

Every day the same gull was at her side, reassuring her of the Green Man’s advance across the wide, sweet sea.

Every day, the sailors on the docks, calling to her how pretty she was becoming, greeted the Lady and she would thank them prettily for their kind words.

Every night as she lay in her soft, fluffy bed the Green Man would send nightingales to sing her to sleep.  In their sweet voices she heard the words the Green Man had written to her all those years ago.

One summer day, years ago, the Green Man gifted her with vibrant silks to clothe herself with.  They had delicate laces, golden and silver buttons, the fur of exotic animals, and rare jewels to sew to the clothes with Thread-of-Gold.

Every season the Lady would take them out and ponder dresses from them, and them put them away, until she would have a fairer form to wear them upon.

One day as she dressed in another drab gown, that now hung off her like sails on a windless sea, her ladies-in-waiting all conspired to measure her for a new gown.

While the Lady waited at the shore for the Green Man, the ladies in waiting made her a new gown, from a deep peacock blue silk, trimmed with Peacock’s feathers and Thread-of-Silver, and many, many tiny pearls crusting the bodice.

When the lady returned that evening, and began to ready herself for dinner her ladies-in-waiting slipped the blue gown over her head, and styled her hair to show off the golden dusting on the soft curls.

The Lady looked in her polished silver mirror, and stared.  Surely this lovely creature brushed in gold dust couldn’t be her!!

From whence had come the womanly curves, and kissable freckles?

The same princes and Kings who had jested at her expense gathered about her, each vying for her full attention.

She laughed and treated them with tolerance, but none of them turned her head from the Green Man, who had sought her hand when no others would.

Night after night, she fended off a parade of handsome Princes and Kings.  Day after day her ladies fashioned another gown, trying to outdo the previous one in beauty and uniqueness.

Day after day she watched the seas for some sign of the green Man’s bright sails on the horizon.

At last there was only white silk that seemed to hide all other colours in its shadows left in her case of fabrics.

She took it out and caressed it, delighting in the way it slid through her fingers.  “I wish to save this gown for when my future husband, the Green Man, arrives.  And this is how I want it to look.”

And so it was that her ladies fashioned a gown to be the envy of every highborn woman in every country.

It was of clean and simple lines, and a bodice set with squares of abalone, mother-of-pearl, and lapis lazuli set in it like a necklace.  With Thread-of-Silver, they embroidered circles of ivy, mistletoe sprigs, holly, and white roses along the bottom of the gown.

The lady went to the Royal Jeweller and asked him to make her a discrete coronet.  A silver band to sit among her curls, engraved with flowers, and set with magical stones that continued in the silver netting that fell to the ground.

The lady tried it on, and she was well pleased and thanked her ladies-in-waiting with generous gifts and sweet words of gratitude.

And so, not long after, she spied a black spot on the horizon.  Her heart beat so she could barely breathe, and she ran home, calling for her ladies in waiting as soon as she had seen the bright colours of the Green Man’s sails.

Once she was dressed in her white gown and she had caught her breath she returned to the docks to await the Green Man.

At long last, the Green Man’s fleet filled the harbour, their sails were each of a different pattern of silk, and they lay at anchor peacefully.

With all due ceremony, and great pomp, the Green Man walked from his ship, across the plank, and onto the dock, where the Lady awaited him with bright eyes and glowing smile.

She could see nothing of his face behind a cunningly carved emerald mask.  At last they stood face to face, and still he held up the mask.

My Dear Lady of the Blue Harbour.  Will you still wed me?”

The Lady answered happily. “I have awaited this day forever and a day, yes, I will wed you.”

At last the Green Man took down his mask, showing everyone an ugly, twisted old man’s face with spindly legs and potbelly.

“One last time I would ask thee.  Wilt thou marry me as I am?”

“I will marry thee, whether thou art handsome or no.  You have always treated me with gentleness and respect, and have gifted me with loveliness and comfort.  Yes, I will gladly call you husband, and follow wherever thou wilt go.”  The Lady knelt in her white raiment and kissed the wrinkled hand tenderly.

The Green Man threw back his cape and dashed the mask to pieces on the dock’s planks.  “And so our love will be fulfilled.!!”

In a flash of golden light he stood tall, becoming a young and very handsome prince, medals at his breast and a golden crown covered in rare jewels sat amongst his golden brown curls.  His sea green eyes were afire with love for the Lady.

“When I was young a Sorceress cursed my Kingdom and me.  Neither would know a happy day, or prosperity until I would be accepted by a Lady who did not recoil at the ugliness she set upon me.”

And so it was that the Green Prince and his White Lady were married and travelled to his Kingdom on the other side of the deep, sweet sea, where they lived happily ever after, and made sure that the people of their kingdoms would know happiness as well.

Again, what has this to do with out Tarot Journey?  This surely is The Lovers of the Major Arcana.  The choice between love and lust, a true connexion, and a passing fling.

The Lovers

"Love has a thousand feathers."

How The All-Mother Got Her Cloaks

All-Mother was always her happiest when she was with all of the lovely animals She and All-Father had created for our blue-and-green jewel in a far-flung arm of the Galaxy and Universe.  She would walk through the wilds and Her animals would put aside their daily lives and follow her in growing parade; where wolf and deer, bear, Cougar and sheep walked peaceably with small furry things, lizards, snakes, birds and frogs chatting as they scurried in the leaf-mould.

The larger birds all wished to perch on her shoulder in a friendly manner, but she had to remind them frequently to take care with their talons on her bare skin.  All of the animals knew that they could wound All-Mother without meaning to, despite being as careful as they could.

At night, All-Father and All-Mother rested beneath a blanket All-Mother had woven from bits of the animals’ shed fur that was caught on thorns.  She spun it in the evening, singing a wordless lullaby in time to her foot on the pedal of her spinning wheel.

One such night, while All-Father and Mother slumbered, the animals met deep in the forest.

“All-Mother needs some protection, not just from our claws, but from the weather as well.  In deepest Winter I have watched Her shiver as She scattered food on the snow so we would not starve.”  Bear spoke in his slow, deep-thinking way.

“What can we do?  Any of us would gladly give Her our skin, but She would not allow us to harm ourselves so.”  Wolf’s yellow eyes were sombre. 

“Some of our hides would do less than nothing for our Dear All-Mother!!”  Chipmunk’s busy little voice was barely audible.

“My hide would not protect our All-Mother from the cold.”  Snake’s words were sibilant and hypnotic. 

“Agreed, my skin will only repel water.”  Salamander ‘s words were mournful.  “That would not keep her warm at all.”

“No it would not work for warmth, but she would appreciate shelter from the rain.”  Owl spoke from his perch on a hollowed oak.  “Perhaps what we should do is this…” He laid out a plan all creatures thought was brilliant, and all agreed joyously to participate in.

Night after night, every animal in the wilds passed by Owl’s tree to contribute to the gifts for their All-Mother.  Every animal gave a piece of hide; each allowed their own choice of where the hide came from.  Almost unanimously the animals chose a place closest to their hearts to show how much they loved All-Mother and Father.

Pride after pride of Lions strode to the secluded glade; those noble kings donated two kinds of hide.  The males shared their glorious manes, and the females shared their bellies, warm and golden. That is why to this day Mother Animals will have bare places on their bellies.

The Zebras all offered either white or black stripes, so that their stripes could be reproduced.  On the soft ground their hooves made no sound as the herds deposited their gifts

Bears all shared their shaggy hide, whether it be black, white or any colour in between, they took the hide from nearest their hearts, to show their love for All-Mother.

The wee rodents also offered their hides; tiny bits could be added together to make a section of squirrel, or chipmunk.  There were also small pieces that fit a place too small for a large animals’ hide.

Other great cats, the leopard and cheetah, jaguar and tiger also gave of themselves happily for All-Mother’s comfort. 

The wee housecats also gifted their fur, and stayed to encourage others when they came, as well as guard the glade from All-Mother during the day.  Their defence consisted of racing through the trees until they met up with All-Mother, and then they tripped her up ecstatic snugglings, silken head-butts and purred cries for attention.

Wolves, by the pack, or the Lone Wolves who forsook their solitary ways to give their coats to All-Mother, even the cubs added their baby fluff to the Wolves’ donation.

Dogs trotted in with their tails wagging and tongues lolling, as happy as could be to be serving the All-Mother.  The ones with the greatest hearts remained to soothe the tender places left after the bit of hide was gifted.  They also set themselves to lead All-Mother astray from the glade; they would easily inveigle Her into a game of tug-of war or chase-the-stick

The horses trotted through, gifting from their long, graceful manes to trim the fronts of the cloaks, they studied the growing pile of gifts and nodded their heads approvingly.  They also offered to carry the hide from animals that could not travel on land.

The seals, sea lions and Walruses gave their waterproof hides to go around the face of All-Mother to keep ice from forming.  Their barks of happiness could be heard in the faraway glade.

When the parts for the gifts were all together the insects took every little piece and cleaned off any mess on the skin, and then combed them with their legs.  When everything was perfect spiders took their turn, as did the silkworms.

Slowly, four magnificent cloaks began to take shape; all of them held a small piece of every animals’ hides.  The spiders and silkworms sewed them together, with all of their eyes focussed on how prettily the pieces were fitted, and how the patterns and colours complemented one another.

Often the spiders and silkworms would stop to exclaim in delight at how well certain pieces of fur would match.  ‘Look here, how the mane of the lions looks with the coat of the panthers next to it’, or, ‘Doesn’t the red of Foxes’ coat look even more striking next to Zebras’ stripes.’

Two cloaks were all of fur, warm and comfortable; and would fit All-Father and All-Mother perfectly.  The second pair was of the skins of snakes and reptiles, and rubbed to a soft gloss with the oils donated by otters, beavers, and other water mammals.

The birds were unhappy about being unable to contribute to the cloaks, until Owl told them what they could do for All-Mother’s comfort and pleasure.  Bird after bird perched next to Owl and pulled soft down from nearest their hearts. 

The Spiders and Silkworms wove soft grasses, and then they were stuffed with the down to form a soft bed for All-Mother and All-Father.  There was enough of the soft grasses and down to make small cushions for them to rest their heads on as they slept.

Finally all of the gifts were ready.  The animals were all in a swivet awaiting All-Mother’s response to their generosity.  The next day as All Mother visited Her creations the animals began to slowly lead her in the direction of the cloaks.

The flowers scattered petals on All-Mother’s path, as they always did, as the leaves on the trees danced for joy when All-Mother came their way.  She would pause to smell a flower here, and embrace a stout tree as She was led by the parade of animals closer to the Glade of Gifts as it became known.

The All-Mother entered the Glade and stopped with Her mouth open; from sturdy branches hung two cloaks in a patchwork of all of Her animals’ fur, more branches held the cloaks of reptile skins; before this was the soft cushions full of down.

“Oh!  My dear Creations, such love is in these gifts!”  She turned to the animals with tears in Her eyes, now She could see the small patches where they had donated their hides for Her comfort. Overflowing with love and reverence All-Mother healed all of the small patches, leaving them bare.

And that my loves, is why all of the animals will have a bare patch somewhere on their body.  So now, when you see your animal’s bare spot you will know that the All-Father and All-Mother do exist and that they love us very much indeed.

What has this to do with our Tarot Journey?  The High Priestess is the one that teaches us how to honour the All-Father and All-Mother in everything that we do.

Mysteries are not communicable

Save to those who know.

In Response to Heather’s Post

Heather’s most recent post:

https://hestiahearth.wordpress.com/2010/03/11/insight/

Awakened one of my most enduring alter egos-T he Universal Mommath:  She has never been called by her ‘proper’ name, she simply is.  Powerful, generous, enduring,  She’s a tad chubby, with Her hair in a soft knot wearing an old red apron with magnets, and other fascinating toys in the capacious pockets of said apron.

She awakened as I read Heather’s post and She immediately wanted to fly to the rescue of a girlchild in need of mothering and comfort.  She went so far as to ready her lap, have jasmine tea steeping, and tuck a few sweets into her pocket.

Her couch is soft and comfy with handmade afghans and fluffy pillows.  The fireplace glows with a cosy fire, and there are cats and dogs all over, even birds and fish have been sent to Her for loving and teaching.  You can hear other children’s voices, joyous shouts from upstairs and outside.

Everywhere are plants flourishing, small trees, ivies wandering across ceilings and walls, the walls are covered in photos and artwork; everything from a toddler’s scribblings to well-practised paintings full of talent and promise.

There are baskets with yarn, embroidery floss, fabric, and sewing projects in various stages of doneness.  A cedar chest is propped open and full of toys that delight children of all ages, Tonka Toys, Matchbox Cars, Dolls, Green Plastic Army Men, Lincoln Logs, Legos, Colorforms sets, Barbie clothes and accessories.  A low bookshelf is full of books, board games, and puzzles, there are child-sized chairs and a table.  In boxes over the shelf are coloured pencils, crayons, markers, colouring books and blank paper.

There is music playing softly from upstairs, guitar, piano, violin and drums, it doesn’t take long to recognise that it is practice exercises, and the players are growing bored, The Universal Mommath simply smiles and shakes her head in response to off-key flourishes and extra-hard cymbal clashes.

The door to this wondrous place of love and healing is inside all of us.  We learn to be our own Mommath from the times we wished we had a Mommath nearby so we could lean on them and just rest for a while.

What does this have to do with the Tarot, and our Journey?

Everything!  The Universal Mommath is The Empress of the Major Arcana.

The Universal Mommath

Woman is a ray of the Divine Light.

“Woman is a ray of the Divine Light.”    What a powerful though to ponder, we, the washers of dishes, the blowers of noses, the finders of all lost things, the keepers of all dates and times, the keeper of life-souveniers large and small.

How many Moms save all of their children’s school pictures, and report cards?  How many Moms always keep specific medicines on hand because they know they will need them on Sunday night after all the stores are  closed?

And so to you, my Sisters, Mommaths, and good ol’ Mommas, I offer up the gift of Divinity.  We are all Goddesses in our own right.

Call Me The Seeker

Having learned from previous Journeys with Mme. La Enchanteur that doorways to Lemuria lie somewhere between the subconscious mind and the imagination (shades of “The Twilight Zone”!) I closed my eyes to find my doorway.

I fell asleep and my doorway opened wide, to a High-Def, Wide screen vista of Lemuria and her history. I dreamt of a small village, a few talented, hardy individuals carving out a niche in Cyberspace for themselves.

The first tenuous strands attached to the World Wide Web, and sent out more tendrils. Other, like-minded adventurers follower the connexions to their source, and the village grew.

More Webs stretched ‘round the globe, and now connected hearts, minds and Spirits. The village planted Dream Seeds, and grew Secret Gardens to rival the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. The villagers each built their own Castles in the Air and saw their dreams gain substance.

Soon the village began to have a tourist trade, with people from the world over coming to see the wonders in the village and carry the word of the village further.

I came to join this village and wondered what my place in this magick should be. No sooner had I thought this than I saw a place, from deep within the fertile earth of my imagination, a place of birth and immortality.

The village gathered round this place of sunlight, constant blossoms, and the smell of ripening fruit. Each member had their own time of labouring, and giving birth to children of great beauty. As each new life was begun, so many members of the village cheered and exclaimed with joy, that soon the village was a bustling city and still growing.

My place in the village, and one purpose of the village was that, to be a nursery to talent, ideas, and growth, not only of mind and imagination, but also of Spirit and ideals.

The village is also a place of great change, new members would stagger in, sore wounded and weary of Spirit and discovered that there would be support and guidance through every step they would make from now forward.

How we each make the journey along our healing road is different for every person, as it ought to be; yet we all know that others have been there and others will follow behind us. We have been gifted with the most precious knowledge of all. We are not alone!!

I hold the bag Mme. La Enchanteur has gifted me with, it has such weight, and the energy contained in such a wee package, pulsing with the life of creativity. In it are so many tiny tools to use in my travels.

And a deck of Tarot Cards, unlike any other deck I had in my collection.

The Packet of Dream Seeds I return to Mme. La Enchanteur, I have been in the village long enough to have my own Dream Seeds to carry with me.

“The Rumi Tarot” created by Nigel Jackson, based upon the teachings of the Sufi scholar, Rumi, full of mysticism, deep wisdom and ageless beauty.

The Fool is, of course the beginning, and he is an innocent young man, unprepared for, and unaware of the dangers ahead of him on his journey.

"Be Foolish, so that your heart may know peace."

The inscription at the bottom intrigued me, “Be foolish, so that your heart may know peace.”

Foolish, the word has so many negative connotations. Someone that is stupid, naive, unaware of what greases the wheels of the world.

Having done the Tarot for over 35 years (O My Gods!!) I know that none of those are what the Tarot’s Fool is made of.

In the Tarot the Fool is someone who is innocent, and does not look either backwards or forwards, someone overflowing with trust and optimism. Here a leopard accompanies the Fool.

Instead of asking why not a dog, like so many other Fool Cards in the Tarot, I asked why a leopard.

My first thought came from the Queen of Wands in the Thoth-Crowley Tarot Deck. The Queen wears flowing locks of reddish brown hair and is accompanied by a leopard.

Legend has it that once upon a time the Queen wore long shining black hair and her companion was a panther. They were purified by their troubles and travels and the queen had flowing golden locks and her panther became a lioness.

The Queen looked back over the path she had travelled and her heart was so moved by those people that were still struggling that she chose to remain where she was instead of continuing on her path, so! her hair became reddish brown and her constant companion wore the dark spots of a leopard as it too chose to stay and help.

Perhaps this is why the leopard instead of the dog is by the side of the Fool, to be a helper and guide to the Fool. Or perhaps the Leopard is A Fool from a Previous Journey, who joyously partners the fool.

Together they may symbolise that we are at once The Fool and The World.

Hrmmmnnnnhhhhh… that sounds like a whole ‘nother post, for another day, perhaps even an author other than myself!!