Words & Artwork by Ruth
We began our entry into this current passage by inviting the dreaming self to be heard. To dance beyond the usual and into the realm of no place, no time. The bells spoke the language of that invitation and broke the spell of the linear.
We enter the pause. It has been referred to as Bardo, the days following death of the ‘self’ and the wanderings in between that cannot be rushed or over-ridden, even by the persistent clamour of our programmed structures - the deep of Winter is upon us.
How is this going for you? Are you upon the bridge dancing your gentle surrender or clinging to the rail hoping for reprieve and release, some kind of distraction? Who am I going to be when the darkness breaks and the seed of this new life begins to stir? There is a wildness in this experience yet it is requiring a different form of listening. Listening to the dreaming self deep in the cave, wrapped in silence and shadows, imaginings appearing and disappearing. Confusion and clarity weave in succession, just like the sleeping dreams - what is real here? As uncomfortable as it can be, there is a seeding occurring beneath the surface and a subtle song or hum accompanies the process. The lullaby of reassurance that we are growing, we will emerge again into the light, tendril by tendril. Perhaps we will not bring all aspects of our usual persona with us, perhaps we will allow them to fall away.
Some part of my deeply dreaming self is invited to touch some part of you, right here and now in this stillness. To remind you of our interconnectedness beneath the surface, like magical threads of mycelium, we mutually sense into one another’s needs and provide solace, encouragement and loving acceptance. The dance goes on between us all. May your seed be nurtured by this awareness and rest in a place of love and trust. May the enchanting call of the Owl and the gentle rise and fall of this Earth breath accompany you into the eventual emergence towards the light of a new year and the magical portal of Imbolc.