healing haven

January 21, 2014

With Patience, Goals take Shape

As I wandered around Riversleigh forest these last months, in any one of my myriad forms, I occasionally came across various colored bottles scattered throughout.  Old, left over from who knows what event, tossed aside when finished, but, who would do that here?  Yet these were beautiful, in multiple colors, too nice to have just been discarded.  Perhaps they were left, on purpose, by fairies or some other beings.  But for what reason?

I gathered them into one spot, sometimes having to go back in a larger form in order to pick up and carry the bottle, not knowing what to do with them, but assuming I would eventually find a use.  One day, I also found some cut-glass sunflowers in the middle of a shrub which I added to my growing pile of vibrant glass.  However, I was a spinning spider that day, having dropped to that shrub from a tree, and couldn’t carry items of that size so I needed to shift into something larger.  As a dexterous raccoon three trips worked perfectly.  Then I found straight pieces of wire which I could drag to the collection spot, one by one, in my wolf’s mouth.

What to do with my assemblage of intriguing objects?  Originally all in one pile, I then scrambled the pile to see if an idea presented itself as to what I could do with it all.  Then I reorganized the pieces so like was with like.  Still no ideas but I liked the tactile feel of the smooth glass as opposed with the cut glass in conjunction of the straight metal wire-rods.

Becoming a ladybug, I flitted around the piles of prism bottles reflecting the sunlight, the three glass sunflowers looking like amber jewels, the tangle of wire like the old-fashioned pick-up-sticks.  Since rearranging the objects themselves elicited no ideas I thought perhaps a different perspective could come up with what to do with it all.  Idea!  Put it all together into a sunflower plant with a framework of the wire which would hold the bottle leaf/arms.  Then I painted labels on each bottle of my human goals, allowing for one bottle to be labeled “unknown”.

collage-Goals  bottle sunflower (2013-5-15)

Later I found a small statue of Treebeard holding a pearl (left by a hobbit? ) and a brilliantly colored, graceful vase on the beach (what was it’s story? had it washed ashore from a distant land?).  Arranged together in a sculpture, they became a focal point in one of my secret groves.  A place to speculate on my future: who was I really beyond all the shapes?  where was I going?  what was I doing?   Much to ponder in these quiet times of Riversleigh.  ( I wonder if anyone in the future will find this as I found all the components?)  Patience was needed to wait for the final realizations to sink in just as patience was needed to collect all these necessary objects.  Was this the intent?  All  will be given you – wait and go with the flow.

(The human I cut out these images from a gardening magazine to make into a SoulCollage card relating to my Goals, and then journaled about the ramifications of those Goals.  Afterwards I scanned and made the card into a Project Life card and journaled further.  Also made a mind-map relating to my goals.  Very helpful to think in terms of how my Goals would evolve and take shape, just as the shape shifter me watched the slow process of discovering and putting it all together at Riversleigh.)

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May 25, 2008

Into The Well – 1

Filed under: fiction,gardening,Pythian Games,shape shifting — by thalia @ 8:52 am
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I finished glancing through a Toscano catalog, enjoying all the beautiful sculptures suitable for putting in the garden.  Most everything was too expensive for me to ever buy, but just looking always inspired me with garden ideas more suitable for my budget.  So I then decide to wander through the garden, as the various possibilities were still fresh.

 

I wander through the flower and vegetable gardens, around the huge wild rose bush in bloom, past the honeysuckle overgrowing the old fence, and roam through the back gate onto the rest of the property, all wild and abandoned.  Clumps of daisies and cluster of late-blooming daffodils poke through wild grasses and tumbled stone, evidence of caring habitation in the old homestead that had been here years ago.  Part of the local stone chimney was evident, now a haven for snakes and other critters.   Giving the chimney a wide berth, I move behind it toward a particularly beautiful setting of blackberry flowers cascading on prolific branches.  They seem to form a circle with an opening in the center, but as I walk around the perimeter, I’m not able to penetrate within.  Something smaller was needed to avoid all the thorns… Yes, a bee.

 

I throw my garden/woods-wandering satchel over the blackberries wall and shape-shift into a bee able to fly between branches to avoid the thorns.  But the overpowering fragrance calls to me to stop and collect some pollen.  And then I fly to the next flower, and the next.  Wait a minute… I’m a bee in order to egress to the center, not to stop at every flower for pollen.  It can be hard to become something and not get caught into all the aspects of that something, all the instincts and attachments.  Focus… focus…   

 

I shoot straight to the center and see a round wooden plank cover lying there, encrusted with moss in places.  A metal handle pokes out of the center, so I shift back into my overweight self and pick up the satchel.  As I glance around I think back to the catalogue I had just seen and remember one of the items for sale entitled “The Dweller Below.”  This sculpture by artist Liam Manchester portrayed a legendary boogeyman rising from beneath the streets of London through a manhole cover.

 

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 The sculpture gave me second thoughts about pulling the cover off, but really, what do boogeymen roaming the city-streets of London have to do with a well in Ozarks country.  Grunting, I pull off the cover and peer within, expecting to see water below.   Instead, there are stairs leading down into blackness.  What is this?  Not a water-well which are common around the farms here, but a passageway.  Where does it lead?  Could this have been an escape route in case of attack from rustlers or Indians way back?  How long ago was that homestead here?  Maybe it’s  more of an escape for during the Civil War when the North and South fought heavily in this area.  Part of the underground railway?  Where does this lead?

 

I pull out the flashlight from my satchel, glad the batteries were new, plus I had extra in the bag.  I tie a Kleenex on the tip of a nearby branch as evidence I was here, just in case… 

 

 

(see also http://pythiangames.wordpress.com/2008/05/25/into-the-well/#comments)

 

April 13, 2008

The Shape Shifter

Filed under: Pythian Games,SoulCollage — by thalia @ 6:50 am
Tags: , ,

 

Who am I? Who am I really?  What is my essence?  She wondered as she looked at herself in the puddle reflection.  She saw a pale child soaring through the skies, totally in tune with the white horse with silvery outstretched wings.  The puddle rippled and stilled, revealing a young woman in flowing white robes and moonstones circling her neck floating amongst the stars.  Yet she knew she was now perched on top of the slow-moving green-brown box turtle, a tiny woman with earth-tone skin.  And yet again, she was the middle aged (some would call her a senior citizen or maybe even a crone) much larger woman of pudgy features and developing wrinkles.  So, who am I, really?  Could I really be all of those people?  Have I been all of those people or am I now all of them, able to shift back and forth? 

 

For years, she had been aware of her ability to sometimes appear one way and sometimes another.  But it seemed that circumstances called forth the transformation: perhaps a winged horse and angel rider appearing at her grandparent’s upper floor apartment window ready to take her for a midnight ride around the city and the church steeple; perhaps a squirrel calling her to enter the tree hole and wind up scampering on the branches while feeding on sunflower seeds; perhaps the vastness of the ocean drawing her forth into the mer-person to swim and soar in the deep waters; perhaps the sounds of the Space-Between and the Sight of Him enticing her spirit-wisp towards That Star;  perhaps…; perhaps…; perhaps… all those other times when her form changed in response to some stimuli.

 

Or perhaps, there was no need for the stimuli to generate the transformation.  What if that shape-shifting ability was within herself?  Perhaps she could just visualize and become the shape she needed for further growth.  

 

She knew she needed quiet time to explore this facet of her being: quiet time to reflect on the best way to use her talent and not to squander it.  A place for her to come to discover who she really was; a place that was a healing haven.   Perhaps Lemuria was that place.

 

(see also http://pythiangames.wordpress.com/2008/04/13/the-shape-shifter/#comments)

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