These words, which are born of my experience in this life, are of a Soul searching nature. They come from my changing awareness as I unravel the complexities of living in this world. Over the years I have become increasingly aware of the nature of my relationships with those around me and I have realised that the most important relationship any of us will ever have is our relationship with ourselves. For me this realisation is at the root of who I am and how I live and these writings are a part of what I call my Soul Song. We all have a Soul Song and it is our own unique, individual voice that no one else will ever possess.
So much of my journey has been about the unfolding and unravelling and understanding of relationships and the effect they have and how my passing through life is revealed by the people around me.
Sometimes I feel like I am just an imprint left in the sand where I was once buried. I feel like I am that dark matter stuff, the glue between everyone where they are all clearly seen and appear real but I am the missing bit that joins them all together but can’t be seen. Invisible, intangible, like morning mist or moonlight.
But if I am nothing then how is it I can still feel my heart beating?
Winter woman is here. I have heard her singing in the distance for some time but now she has walked through the door, earlier than expected. She is not bound and makes her own rules.The first thing she told me,
“ Love is not a soft pink promise and only fools believe it to be so. It is a strong and powerful force that shreds and tears and leaves no stone unturned in the land of lies and illusion.
It is not a dream of peace and fairytale happiness. It is a force of nature, a volcanic unstoppable force of creation.
Love is not a bauble or a light and fluffy pastime that will leave nothing undisturbed. It is not a safe place to hide.
Love is that which tears apart and scatters and opens and throws us to the sky that we become stars.Unless love breaks us apart we are too solid, too dull, too heavy to fly and will always be chained to dull life, dead life, lifeless. It is the price we pay for joy. It is the only way we know we are alive. If we do not love we have not involved ourselves in the living of life. We are just spectators watching life grind by. Without love we do not feel our heart’s beat.
As I travelled the Dark rose up before me. A Dragon, a bird or both. Its wings spread to cover my path and all my sight. And it had sight too, cruel piercing eyes that can see Souls and eat them if desired. I stood small in front of it and marvelled at the beauty of the wings, the patterns, their movements and their power. The Dark settled before me and when I looked once more I could see the eyes had changed. No longer cruel they looked into me and puzzled over what they found.And then the Dark became less dark, as mist it rose, grey it became, then shreds it was before the rising sun.
I blinked and considered the loss of the Dark and what I had found within it.
A journey to return to my people, my place, my life.Waterfalls and rocks. Dark, high mountains. Bears and eagles. Cruel eyes of the Hunter.
“Daughter of the Caldevi, Child of the forgotten ones. Your Soul has blown upon the winds and floated in the seas of time. Your People call to you and sing you home. Gather up the bones of your life and walk to greet them. Stand in the sun of your youth and call back your song. See where you belong, from where you came. Gaze into the pool of Souls and sing yours home to you. Call to us and we will follow across the bridge of time.
Remember now all that you have been. Remember why. Hear the call, the cry of ages. Pull your Soul about you as a cloak, pick up your shield and pull your sword into your hand. Hear it sing. Hear it call. Hold it high. Stand tall and be all that you have forever been. Be again.
For what reason have I come out of the ground and ceased my wanderings in the eternal halls of the dead?
Why do I fly no longer on the wind?
Why am I bound to this Earth with heavy limbs and slow?
Why are my dreams and thoughts as mists and whisps blown upon a careless wind?
Why has the sleep of ages ended?
For what reason do I walk once more upon this Earth and bind myself to its troubles?
It is strange to be of this world and yet not. The cares of this world assail me but I know them to be but chaff on the wind. We are as nothing against the Endless Ones and no matter how far we travel it is but a step on the treads of time. But travel we must for to stand still is to die.