Last night my dreams were flooded with owls and I was back in the wooded of the mountains. I saw a shadow there, a pointy elongated shadow that startled me. To those I did tell of my encounter, I said that I sensed no purpose.. just a simple “I am here”. This, I felt, was not of my shadows but of the place.
I have been reading all the bits on rewilding – here, here, and here.. that last written by my fellow hedger who suggested the book to me which inspired that writing, many stimulating discussions, and the reason for this writing. I will get to that. First though, Sarah in her post, is right.. “We have made the earth inhabitable for ourselves, but nature will survive..” We did this to ourselves. Humanity is standing at a crossroads. Our survival depends on reconnecting with the land. When we have passed, our bodies will will have returned to the earth and our spirit to the web. I would personally like to do so on good terms, but the aforementioned have pointed this out way more eloquently than I ever could.. I want to give into ego and discuss that which is a bit closer to my personal.
The mentioned readings led me to find this post, of which I was mulling over one morning while I was waiting to consume my consumer-driven big chain coffee beverage (yes, I am part of the problem). I was looking at the random splotches of well manicured landscaping, thinking on all it means to have to really search out those natural places.. those we are stripping of their wild. I thought of how confined such places are in our small city, how the trees so strategically planted to ease our primal soul must be screaming out at the injustice we’ve done to them. I thought of all the pretty little gardens dotting the more “progressive” neighborhoods, restrained within their brick edging.. held prone by their weed barriers. I thought of the wonder I feel when I see a few riotous wild flowers along the side of the road, refusing to do what they’re told. I thought of writing about the struggle and the beauty of being a practicing witch in the city.. but ultimately decided that was for another day.
Today I reserve for inspiration and the book that brought it. I have been lacking in inspiration of late until I remembered the book, Apocalyptic Witchcraft, that Kayla has been telling me to read. It had been beside the bed, waiting for its turn, but with all these floating posts I decided to pick it up. The greater messages have all been written by better than I and so instead, I would like to mention those smaller things that really spoke to me. I imagine anyone reading it will find some of the same, it’s that sort of layered work.. or at least that is what I found it to be.
For me, it started off with the statement “Mankind has broken the covenant with nature”.. yes. It continued this movement throughout the entirety of the book. So much of it spoke to me on the day to day level.. The imagery of the broken wheel, the exploration of the sabbat, the importance of the dream, the use of salves and soot, the perceived irrelevance of the witch, the duality of the divine and the demonic.. so much. I want to touch on two things and what they brought to me – the Devil and the moon.
In his book, Peter Grey writes “..the Devil reveals a narrow path into a dark wood.. The form is not important.. it is what he shows us that counts.. He is the revealer, and the wood is waiting beyond our eyelids.. (and much later in).. The Devil then is the operation of wild nature..” Now, this is out of context but something about it made me think of that wildling mountain shadow.. all pointy and elongated.. “I’m here”. Yes, our nature spirits are still here.. maybe chased into the shadows of tall buildings and the day to day progress of life, but here all the same. It was there in the wilderness not wild that I found one.
Then there was the point of the moon.. could this be the sweeping change I saw inklings of last Yule? Or maybe a cycling back to where I was, out of structure? Or maybe both holding hands on the eve of something to come? I think yes, to all.. the moon ever changing and yet the same. Peter Grey writes, “Within the cave, the dark, within the dark, the sun, animating the memory locked in the stacked bones of ancestors. This is the axis mundi. Let the image bloom like the night jasmine we are inhaling, let the eyes find their place of rest. Remember that you have been here before, barefoot, wolf-shod. The moon weeps while you dance.” Tonight the moon will be full and I will have my feet firmly in the dirt.