Continued from 2/13 Part 3
The song of Luna playing in my head.
I walk from the lodge towards the woods,
with all of the items and dressings
as carefully instructed by my Guide.
And I saw that the moon was beautiful.
And I heard the music coming from the items
which I was carrying in my pocket:
A pub coaster…
A keychain from her church….
A broken waist-belt buckle….
Items she left here.
Items about to be burned,
melted by the flames from tonight’s fire.
I walk towards the fire ring.
I can see the small,
upward trickling of
a single flame dancing flame.
I head from the
hooded man in the woods,
urging me to fuel the flames
higher, and hotter.
I gather more wood.
I place it on the fire.
A small pyre.
I sit down on the bench swing, across from the fire, and watch Chaak standing guard/watch over the ordeal, and in front of the flames, basking in the warm glow and feeling the coming-home to the fiery heat where his clay-form cast was breathed into existence by the flames. His eyes, ever watchful and dancing with firelight, betray how much he LOVES these nights.
He was born for them.
It pleased me to watch Chaak,
and it pleased me to feel his own pleasure
as he filled himself up with such life and light from existing
in my world.
I watched the flames, and breathed,
and entered back in the Void….
in order to find (or be found by)
The Witch and continue our meeting…
I was sitting on the bench swing,
gently rocking and watching the
flames from the fire pit grow higher,
cradling the sacred incense bowl in my
right hand, and my left holding the Wheel.
Somewhere on my left.
I could feel her pleasure as she eyed me,
and then the beer in the swing cupholder,
brought for her.
Good boy, I felt her purring
“Now go get the chocolate,” I heard her say.
And I knew exactly what she was referring to.
Pausing our connection,
I returned to the house to retrieve
the unused chocolate bars YZ and I purchased
at the grocery store while on our (first and final) “date.”
We originally intended to make smores around the fire outside.
But, we never got that far:
being “in service to a king” (thank you, iChing)
required that I needed to engage in conflict by having an honest discussion about what’s true.
And that discussion changed things.
Or rather, It clarified things.
I returned with the chocolate bars
SHe was on the bench swing waiting.
I sat back down on the bench and begin
opening the foil wrapping around one of the fancy, gourmet chocolate bars
(this one was some kind of dark chocolate with raspberry).
I broke off a piece for myself.
I bit into it.
It was delicious.
I offered her a piece,
holding it up to her.
She looked at me, not moving, staring me in the eyes, taking this in.
She let out a big, defeated, loving sigh.”Ya know,” The Witch said, reaching for the chocolate, “Dionysius is going to have a FIT with all this,” and she looked me in the eeys as she bit into the piece I gave.
“But,” she added, glancing at me with thoughts and visions of
the future and a hidden knowledge of where this is all going,
“He is gonna LOVE it in the end.”
And she stared at me
begging me to read her mind
and to see what she sees.
“Mmm…” she said.
She swallowed, and bit-off another bite.
“Mmmmmmmmmm….” she moaned, closing her eyes and licking her lips as she tasted raspberry for the first time.
But I look at the fire instead,
contemplating her statement.
How does she know about Dionysius?
The witch (who I’m growing to love)
chuckles, as if reading my thoughts.
the Moana theme song starts playing in my head.
I look to my left where the Witch was sitting ~
but now, by all appearances, she is a small girl:
8-12 years in age, and wearing a white dress.
Practically nestled into my left shoulder, she was nibbling the chocolate bar while looking up into my eyes. Her eyes were dark yet full of a mysterious, mystical light ~ I could feel her sense of safety, security, and being loved ~ like a purring cat when it knows its safe. Her eyes bespoke adoration, intrigue, love, peace, and security.
And a devilish, rebellious, child-like-heart that only wants to play, explore, control others, and never submit to anyone other than herself.
“I’m so proud of you,” the girl said, chocolate smeared across her mouth. She bit into the chocolate again, thinking of all of the past few weeks’ events. “Yesssssss…… So much…..”
And she looked into my eyes with a look of seduction, and said, “Moar…. MOAR… MOARRRRRRRR” and she became very sexual.
“Please,” I said, “If you are going to roar like that, and in that way, please take on an older form. It far less creepy in our world.”
Her smooth features turned into a scowl and she became angry.
“YOU HYPOCRITE,” she said. (….I did not understand what she meant when she said this and honestly it upset me very much….)
And she reached for the chocolate bar, breaking off a piece for herself, and took another bite.
We sat there in silence, softly rocking in the night with her head on my shoulder, watching the flames begin to rise.
The fire was burning bright now.
“Alright,” I said. “It’s time.”
“Time for what?” The witch/little-girl said.
Holding the medicine wheel in my left hand,
I place my thumb in the slot of the Bear,
The blessing of the Fathers are One.
I swallow the god.
His blood infuses mine.
And I am become Him,
and not Him;
He in me,
and I in Him,
and We are One.
My hand moves to write a name:
My phone vibrates with a notification
right as I begin writing the person’s name.
I stop and look at my phone~ its not her at all.
“And why,” the witch asks, “should you even think it was her?”
I hear the Witch laugh.
I spot the conflict, sensing my own inner fear of the unknown (and of what is known, but suppressed) ~ and I stop to consider the answer to my own question before speaking it aloud.
Am I prepared to hear the answer?
“What is this madness?!” I ask.
How about for tomorrow’s affairs?
Am I ready for the week?
For the day of love?
“Ahh, and WHO, say you, is YOURS?” The voice of the Witch. But – something deeper. Like her… but not.
“And who… are YOU?” I ask the entity.
A building rage.
“BE!” she demanded – and then she went away.
A boy was walking down
a path through the woods
when they’re in the path was
a broken down ROBOT.
The boy stoped,
and looked at the robot.
“What’s wrong, robot? he asked.
The robot looked up at him and blinked
and said, “Fix me, please. I’ll help you too.”
So the boy sat down and learned all the ways to help the robot
function according to the designs and programs of the robot’s CPU.
And ~ The End.
I come back to consciousness.
I am standing at the fire now, with the Wheel in my left hand, and my right hand holding the next item to be burned.
“The last of you.” I spoke it aloud, and to the fire. “I carry no more.” My thumb on my left hand moves towards the red, and I place it there, in its slot, and breathe…. connecting with the Wolf and the blood….the red hot rage for my lodge, and a vengeance that boils against those who could harm or destroy it, or even threaten to….
I allowed myself to FEEL and see the faces of those I love as I clutch the belt-loop that broke from YZ’s jeans last night, which had fallen onto the hallway floor, tumbled, turned, and fell, landing just inside my bedroom door.
As I hold the belt-buckle over the flames, I prepare to drop it when suddenly I hear Holding Eagle call to me from deep within the lodge:
“Chief! Take staff!”
And I looked and saw that I had left it inside.
My fear and panic immediately rises. But so does KA, meeting it. I assure myself that all is well, place the belt buckle back in my pocket, and calmly walk towards the lodge.
As I walk back to the woods,
I can see the fires burning, dancing in the night.
I pause to take in the wild scene I was witnessing.
I see Chaak enthroned before the flames like some god of fire
He is alive ~ he is a god ~ he is something sacred and existing that I cannot explain.
Calling and chanting and shouting and worshipping “CHAAK TOC ICHAAK” I hear him say, over and over and over again.
I hear his singing and I observe that even he himself,
a Mayan god unknown to me before making himself known,
is now filled a sort of giddy anticipation about this night,
And the essence of its purity feels like a child’s on Christmas day,
(he not having any clue as to what was about to happen
but knowing its essence as something like the best day ever)
I could literally feel him thrilled to be made alive,
and to be here in this moment,
and having now a place and a purpose
and a position within his new lodge and tribe,
he the divine
he the mighty
he the protector
he, Hell’s harbringer of life, reborn by the flames
and not consumed by them.
And as I watch him,
and listen to him,
a smile of pride stretches across my face;
and I am shocked when I discover how much this feeling
feels so much like a father’s.
And the Wheel and Staff in my left,
the incense of the mother in my right,
and YZ’s belt-buckle burning a hole in my pocket,
I place my thumb in the White with the buffalo
and set my face towards the flames.
I take a breath.
I stare at the wood newly-piled wood, stacked high on the pyre.
The flames lick and lap the freshly laid logs,
slathering their undersides sides within crackling delight.
I stand before the fire.
I take the staff and place it in front of me,
feathers of war and protection and peace
clutched between each finger.
Suddenly there shrieked from the coals a long, extended scream.
And then it was silent.
Placing the staff in my left hand, I spot a half-burning staff within the pyre
And with my right, I remove it from the fire like a sword from it’s sheath
as sparks danced from its burning body and into the night like hellish fireflies.
With both arms extended, sacred staff in the left and flame of fire in the right, I held both out and up and aloft. I lifted my face to the night sky, closed my eyes, and felt Holding Eagle.
I breathed, connected to him, and opened my mouth, saying: “By the sacred right of the buffalo…..”
And I listened to myself as if listening to another person, in shock somewhat and relieved somehow at the same time, seeing – just for a split second – being in flow…. the perfect balance between detachment and suppressive control with the ones who now live in my chest.
I felt such pride as I heard H.E. speak the sacred prayers and words out of my mouth, ancestral prayers handed down, held and known only by those to whom they have been given, prayers reserved for those to the rights to even have them……what these I tell you, to even hear these prayers myself, not knowing them before, was a sacred honor and privilege the weight of which is impossible to convey.
Not knowing their meaning, I was nonetheless understanding exactly the meaning for I was feeling it THROUGH him, and FOR him, and WITH him, as if Holding Eagle’s feelings were my own ~ a level of connection difficult to describe.
And when the prayers were done,
I felt Holding Eagle say “Now, Chief!”
I take the flame in my right
and stab it into the heart of the fire
and it sticks upright in the coals like stake.
I reach for the belt-buckle in my pocket
and hold its up to my eyes.
I stare at it.
Connect to it.
And tell it: “No.”
And I toss it into the fire.
And the cat shrieked in the alleyway,
fending off another attack.