Boulder Creek, CA, June 22 2012, 10 days to go before I leave for my adventure in Iceland and this is my first post as I prepare for the journey.
I am with my beautiful, mystical 85 year old friend, Barbara Thomas at the redwood amphitheatre on her land in Ben Lomond, in the Santa Cruz Mountains, California. A Native American group held a ritual here to welcome in the Summer a few days ago and the energy in the circle is charged.
I stand in the centre of the large open space circled by madrones and redwoods, wooden armchairs stationed around me, the seemingly empty redwood chairs looking like thrones. I imagine I can feel the energy of archetypal figures sitting silently in each position around the circle as if in Council and my mind goes to the Tarot’s Major Arcana. There are 8 armchairs and two benches so we have 10 places as on the Qabalah’s Tree of life—an intelligent blueprint of human psychology.
I was drawn to one particular chair and faced the Hierophant. I addressed him with my intention to connect and collaborate with the earth in whatever form it presents itself. I want to be a completely open channel to whatever is revealed, from the mundane to the esoteric. I intend to be authentic and not try to disguise unfamiliar experience in acceptable language as I have done in the past. I am putting myself out there to see through the eyes of a child—of course!!! this is the archetype of the Fool, a great place to begin.
I find a place to lie down just outside the circle on a slope where the warm sun filters through the trees. Either side of me are madrone saplings with a very tall madrone in the middle, arching over me high into the blue sky, its branches reaching the centre of the amphitheatre.
I notice that Barbara is lying in the centre of the circle with her head towards the Hierophant—archetype of the High Priest, representative of conscious awakening—connecting one to ones Higher Self, to ones own truth, intuition and insight.
The first thing I am aware of is the high pitched continuous wine of a group of mosquitos about a foot away from my right ear. If a beam of sunlight were not illuminating them, I would think I had severe tinnitus! Mentally I keep them at a distance and then gaze at their frantic luminous dance and say firmly and loudly “no biting”. (strangely, they are very respectful and just torment me with their song throughout!)
I felt I was in the centre of the amphitheatre as I gazed skywards toward the gap where the circle of trees arch high above me leaving a window of blue.
I watch the light aura emanating from the leafy branch tips pulsing and dancing as if responding in active energy exchange around the canopy opening to the sky—expanding and contracting as if in conversation, a silent language not audible but sensual and luminous. This 'communication' between plant species is perhaps something I will learn more about in Iceland? I am going wherever it takes me!
I lie there watching butterflies that follow an erratic path, strange insects darting from tree to tree and the spiral pattern of a leaf as it falls from a great height twirling and somersaulting as it goes.
I am suddenly aware of my journal resting by my side, and I sit up to reach for it. At that precise moment Barbara also sits up and reaches for her lap top as if with perfect symmetry we are purposely choreographed .
We have both been writing for about ten minutes. I look up as I am finishing just as she is doing, once more in synchronicity.
My right ear is still numb from the persistent drone of the mosquitoes.
