healing haven

November 16, 2008

Ride the Night Wind

Filed under: Baba Yaga journey — by thalia @ 12:04 pm
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 She quickly found that even the bouncy ride on this black mare was putting her to sleep.  How was that possible?  Maybe because of the darkness?  Maybe the events of this last week were more exhausting than I realized.  My back and legs already ache from moving all the tables and chairs, and then unloading the car for Hospice Volunteer Recognition.    I’m glad I loaded the car over the previous two days.  Spread out the achiness a bit. 

 But it was worth it.  The volunteers felt very appreciated by the buffet, the speaker and, of course, the skit performed by the hospice staff, with even three doctors performing in it.  The awards, certificates and gifts are tokens of appreciation, but they know how much I care and appreciate all of what they do. 

 Wesssss… wesssss….. The fast night riding was making the wind rustle by.  I wonder what her name is?  Or does she even have a name?  Black Beauty?  Way too obvious. And would anyone here in Lemuria even now of that book?  Probably not.   She put her hand on the mare’s neck and felt the blood pumping through engorged veins and the powerful muscles tensing and releasing as her head moved up and down with exertion.  There also seemed to be a slight vibration underneath the muscle.  Almost like the purr of a cat.  She leaned forward to place her head on the mare’s neck, breathing in the smell of horse and stables even as the silky mane tickled her nose.  Now she could place both hands on and around the mare’s neck.  Wesssss… Perrrr… Perrrr…  Whisper?  Could that be her name?  Whisperer?  Like horse whisperer?     

 Wesssss… Perrrr… Ah!  Like air forced out of lungs.  Was that part of the sound or a reaction to running?  She felt like she was careening through the world in this darkness, unable to distinguish any landmarks, only hearing the wind rushing by.  More accurately, as she and the horse rushed by.  Maybe that’s how the phrase, “runs like the night wind,” came into being. 

 Wesssss… Perrrr… Ah!  Again, the same sounds.  She snuggled closer into the black mare’s neck, becoming one in the ride.  Hearing someone saying: “I think we should name this mare Wespera.  It’s an ancient European name for night wind.  She rides like the wind and is blacker than the night itself.”  A nod and flick of the tail accepted the name.  Wespera-that’s who she was… rider in the night wind…  rival to the night wind… free in the night wind… Wespera!

October 21, 2008

From Triton to Yaga (16)

Filed under: Baba Yaga journey,Enchanteur,healing,shape shifting,turtles — by thalia @ 3:45 am
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Before she knew it, she was riding a black mare, galloping over the verdant hills, her own satchel and the talisman bag received at the stables, deployed across her shoulders.  I wonder what is in the talisman bag?  There wasn’t time to glance at more than the package of dream seeds lying on top of other items.  This mare sure is in a hurry, the way she nickered, pulling at my arm until I mounted and gave her reign. I would have liked to ask a few questions to get a better idea of what this trip is about.  Something mentioned of Dream Masters and Baba Yaga.  Now there’s a combination!  What a sleek, almost iridescent black horse.  Her coat shimmers… well taken care of.   Reminds me of both “Black Beauty” and “The Black Stallion,” two books from childhood that completely enthralled me.  I don’t even know what her name is… another thing yet to be discovered.  I hope she knows where to go and isn’t just running for exercise.  Always needing to trust… always not knowing where the path leads and what one will learn… another lesson coming up.  The last she remembered, she had been playing in the ocean with a delightful turtle, an old friend of hers from her life as a mer-maid, newly returned daughter of Triton.

 

Previous to that she had been following her father as he moved into deeper waters.  Going from being afraid of him to recognizing her kinship with him, she felt she was on a roller coaster of emotions.  When the opportunity arose to play with Tico the Turtle when he appeared, it was exactly what she needed and wanted.  Growing up in the deep, she had frolicked with many turtles, fish, dolphins, even sea horses, as she learned the variables of the ocean and how to understand each interconnection with the other.  Her father ruled this area, keeping out undesirables by appearing ferocious, as Guardian of the Deep.  His seemingly evil appearance and ways were meant to weed out those wandering too close but who were not ready for the next step.  Those able to stand their ground and extend love regardless of his appearance–in spite of his appearance–were ready to be allowed on to the next level of experiences.  Those unable to overcome fear and extend love to something appearing bad were turned away.   

 

She had passed the criteria, not recognizing the monster as really being her long-ago father until that point.  Then she remembered more details of her time with him, her mother and siblings as mers.  Delighted to be on her way to see them all again, she allowed herself to be sidetracked when she saw Tico.  He had grown into a large sea turtle, the many years of existence and experience showing in his shell, now covered with various scars and abrasions, and his eyes, soft and loving and all-encompassing.  He had been such a wise teacher, even then much younger and smaller, yet someone who helped her learn patience and trust, all necessary to being able to find a quiet spot and quietly listen to, first her outer world, then her inner worlds.  Her father tended to be motivated but too critical and her mother loving but too dependent; Tico had helped her forge the best qualities of both parents.  He knew how to motivate others in a loving manner which she responded to best.  She had had dreams of him over the years she was primarily a human being, knowing him to be a great teacher and mentor, sharing his wisdom even in dreams or what might have been true-seeings, but never totally recalling from whence she knew him.  Her heart swelled to be with him again.

 

 

After time spent catching up, on her part (he knew all that happened with her over time), recognizing their means of communication was not verbal words but sounds and thoughts, she moved to ride on his back.  He wanted to take her somewhere.  As they swam, he conveyed that, once again, she was not going to remember it all, since she needed to go back and further experience the human condition.  There were still necessary experiences waiting for her.  But she would not be alone, and many of the associate traits of these other dimensions and worlds would still be with her, multiplied.  Learn, grow, know all as One!

 

The gentle sway of riding the turtle in the ocean somehow transformed to the more bouncy riding the black mare, bareback no less, over uneven terrain.  Here she was on her way to the Dream Master and Baba Yaga—what would she learn now?

 

 

 

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