Tag Archives: Magick

Leviathan

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A rowboat in the ocean
So lost you are
So beautiful, so lost, content in silence, the rhythmic waves
…Rising, Falling
…Rising, Falling
Not even sure what you’re looking for
Just knowing currents and tides will bring you comfort
…Line over the side, not fishing, not quite
……More like playing absentmindedly
……More like hands twitching as you fall asleep
……More like wondering what creatures live below the surface
…Never expecting to see
Sure that the sight is meant for more important eyes than yours.

There is none more important than You.

Or you. Or I.
Or them. Or us. Or we.

None more important than the ones in that boat
None more important than those who half believe
…Than those who sleep their way through life
…That half-believe that life could be better
……Or bigger. Or faster. Or more.
……But that life happens to Other People
…People more worthy, more strong,
…People in books, in faery tales, in song, in legend.
Hands twitching as you sleep
Boat rising higher than it should be
Pushed by something underneath
Something not quite cresting
An unseen force that raises you higher than before
And in your dreams you remember
…That once you were someone who searched
…That once you were someone who dreamed and desired
…That once you believed that there were dragons at the edge of the world…

It’s not the bait on your innocent line that has piqued my interest.

I hear sounds in your sleep
…The sounds you used to listen for
…The dreams you used to have
…The things you used to search for
The You that you’ve forgotten

It echoes inside of me like the sound of a drip in a silent cavern
…Echoing my stillness
…Echoing my forgottenness
…Calling me to your side like rhythm
……Like thunder and rain
……Like the sound of water on leaves
……Like the sound of the serpent in the grass
…Like the scent of summer
…Yes, you are dreaming,
But make no mistake, you have called me.

You are so innocently unaware of what you’ve done
…And even that is delicious
Still sleeping, echoing dreams
I could vanish in a moment and you would never know I was there
…Never know how close I was
…Never know how I watched you as you slept
……Never know that it’s not your dreams that called me
……But the way you’ve put them away.
…The way I’ve put them away.
…The way we all, sooner or later,
Put them away.

So I must choose,
…do I slip beneath these waves in silence
……Never waking you
……Never letting you see
…Never
It is perhaps
The better choice
To not wake up these things in myself
To not view the dreams I’ve given up in the harsh light of day

Oh but the sound of you is so sweet
You are savory in my brain
…Like the scent of a good stew
……With notes of Lemongrass
…Exotic, like heavy bass
……With overtones of Bhangra
…Like things I’ve never tasted or smelled
……Sandalwood and Rose
……Or street food in South America
……The feel of satin and leather

I am a force of nature
…Uncontrollable
I get off this ride where I want to
…And I’m not sure if I do.
But you are a tasty morsel, to be sure,
And no one contains me without my permission.
I am not to be contained.
…Like Leviathan, I am not for owning
……I am for experiencing
………For reminding you of your mortality
………For showing you gaping jaws that remind you
………How good it is to be alive
………How good your life is in this world

…How you should not be sleeping.

I’ve come to wake up the Strongest of Dreamers.
…and I am only slightly surprised by your blurry edges
…by the way your tiny human hand squeezes the smallest of my pods
……like an infant and a finger
…the way you turn in your sleep like a plant toward sunlight
reaching towards what you have not seen, but you remember.

Who made you so small, love?
What made you put your dreams away?
…How have you forgotten the songs of our tribe?
…How have you forgotten what you are?
This will feel like disaster, I know.
And I am so sorry, but you called me here
…You dangled this line
…You called in your sleep
……You don’t know it but you called for rescue
……and you have no idea that this has nothing to do with me,
…that the only one who can rescue you
is You.

I am what I am
……and what I am is too large for that boat.

It’s an accident, I swear, the leaks and crackings
…But it’s a consequence of getting too close.
Your world is about to turn upside down
…and you are due for the rudest of awakenings.
I am about to do you a huge favor

My presence and my leaving will smash that boat
…And if you open your eyes
…it will set you free.

Lammas 2017

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Lammas. Lunasadgh. First Harvest.

I didn’t write yet for first harvest this year. I didn’t have ritual this year either. Ritual is something that has come into my life on a more regular basis. Ironically, as prone as I am to the “Deep Dive” I have gone shallow for ritual…5 or 10 minutes daily. My teacher says I need to revisit that, go deeper, and I’m surprised at the fact that I haven’t been doing that already. I seek information, and I get it….I get it at an astonishing rate…so fast that I’m downloading it and storing it without processing it. I need to process. I need to stop this almost BitTorrent pace, and instead replay in slow motion…listen to the commentaries….translate the dreams, the omens, whatever it is I’ve been given.

I’ve been given a great many lovely things, a giant tiger cowrie shell slightly smaller than a football, symbols for my hands and head, flowers for my body and crown. Dreams in which my sense of self literally balances on a pinpoint, and moving through my own history can throw me off balance. I’ve heard the voices of my ancestors (and it’s one thing to hear your own ancestors because that’s a total conversation in your own head that you can write off as “talking to myself” at any time) but I’ve heard the voices of OTHER people’s ancestors with very specific details, and when I’ve pulled that out of the air and given it to them and they respond with shock and surprise that I know something so PERSONAL…I just have to accept that something is happening, something I don’t understand, something that will someday have an explanation but right now is just an experience. I have accepted it at experience level. My teacher says I should go deeper. I feel waist deep already. Balls deep, as they say. I’m wandering through swamp up to my hips. Gods know what the hell is below my sight line.

This is the nature of the First Harvest. You can look at the work you’re doing, see what bears fruit. You can see which things are possibly just not going to make it this year. You can use this point to evaluate, to focus your energy on the things that are coming up for you, and to stop tending to dying harvests. Everything doesn’t always blossom. Sometimes the dirt is too hard or dry. Sometimes the sunlight is too strong, or not strong enough. Sometimes we just have to let things go.

I’m evaluating my harvests. I want to know that what I’m doing is more than just enough to sustain me. I want to know that what I am growing is nutritious and bountiful, that it will nurture me AND others. It is not enough for me to just survive anymore. I have to thrive. I DESERVE to thrive. I am good and kind, I work hard, I help others when I can, I sustain myself without much assistance. It is not enough. I want my life to be motion and dance, electricity and flashing neon, and the quiet darkness of contentment.

First harvest. Clarissa Pinkola Estes says, “…The Creation Mother is always also the Death Mother and vice versa. Because of this dual nature, or double-tasking, the great work before us is to learn to understand what around and about us and what within us must live, and what must die…” As women, it is our nature to care for other things before we take care of ourselves. That’s why we have breasts. It’s in our DNA. It is not in our nature to just allow something to die.”

I want. I want many things. First harvest gives me an idea of what is possible and what is not. I wish you blessings on your harvest. I wish you keen sight to see what is actually in front of you, as opposed to what you wish were there. I wish you strength to let things go. I wish you perseverance to hold onto the things you wish to keep. Harvest is a time of work, and there are two more harvests to go. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.

I wish you good and true sight. Make your decisions. Your second harvest depends on it.