In search of ruins

Dear Travellers,

I was up very late last night with permission from the abbey's ancient librarian to search the archives of ruins. I found these images of the House of the Vestal Virgins, they look a lot like the ones from the Roman Forum. But I think they may be hidden somewhere outside the high abbey walls. So I have packed a light lunch in search of ruins. I'll be back shortly...

Blessings,
Luna

Stars on the ceiling!

Looking up in the Abbey I was inspired to snap a picture while nobody was looking...

Spirit bag

Long ago a grandmother I do not remember clearly, took a cutting from my mother’s dress the day I was born. She fashioned a rounded square into a small pouch with cords to pull it closed and a longer one so I could wear it around my neck.

As long as I can remember it hung up high on the wall where I could not reach it or touch it. But I could see everyday.

On my seventh birthday I was given a gift in tissue and ribbons. It was my spirit pouch, just for me. And for the first time I was able to open it. Inside were stones and small scrolls of paper, each with a date. The first one was today.

I carefully opened the scroll: Luna, girl of my heart, today you are seven. Your mother has labored hard for you to come into this world and you must always remember that. There may be times that you forget how much your mother and grandmother love you and how we anticipated the day you arrived to change our lives forever. Maybe at seven you think you almost know everything, but you must remember there will always be someone older than you, someone younger than you, someone to listen to and someone to give guidance to. Live in the present. Be brave and do not fear darkness.

The pouch is a robin’s egg blue with red thread running all over the edges, symbolic of the blood of my ancestors. I am told to remember them. Seven tumbled stones gently rub against each other: rose quartz, jet, jade, aventurine, citrine, crystal quartz, and amber. Each year a new bead is sewn on to the fringe and sometimes we forget and many beads are placed on at once.

After much moving in my life I have lost this precious pouch and the letters it held. But I still remember that first letter and the smoky smell of sage. I will try to fill in the gaps my grandmother meant for me to know. I can only wonder how my grandmother tried to imagine me as an old woman, even older than herself. Dreaming my own life into being.

Happy Summer Solstice!

.
.
May the bonfires
glow bright
this night
as we listen
to the standing
stones sing
their dreams.
.
.

Night Flight

I caught the night flight of ravens to the land beyond the sea. After receiving an email in the night telling me to pack quickly and come. I forget the name… I think it is an island.

I pack some water, my journal, pens, and simple toiletries. A travel size muse box, more of wish box, but I pack it carefully with a blue aboriginal scarf design.

It is dark and cold when I board the giant raven in a clearing in the North West Hills. I am overcome with so many feelings, too much loss.

While reading an essay called Beauty Tips for the Dead, I am overcome with the raw emotion of loss. First Aunt Doris, a sweet lady that slowly died of cancer and whose funeral I missed but sent a basket of yellow roses. And now Uncle Dick just passed from uncertain events. Our time here is so short. I just realized I have spoken to both my mother and father within the last 24 hours, kind of rare for me.

I also meet a woman last week who voluntarily removed both of her breasts after being diagnosed with the cancer gene. I am unsure what it is actually called. I just cried there in front of her. With her white hair and large glasses, she just stood there as real and herself as anything.

All I could see was this radiant woman who is the ultimate Amazon Warrior who sacrificed her own breasts to live. When I was younger I figured breasts were kind of new to me and I didn’t think they would be a big loss as I hear women like my grandmother loss them to cancer. But now at thirty-seven I am surprised by my own attachment to them. They are not as beautiful as they were ten years ago. But they are all I have. And to imagine them gone is almost unbearable and unthinkable.

It is only the body that carries our spirit and brain around. She said she wanted to live. At seventy, she got it right. But is this what I have to look forward to?

The eastern sky brightens and I can see the faint outline of land. The raven flies low over the water. And I am exhilarated by sea spray and the taste of salty tears on my face.

The Enchantress greets me with a hug. Good! You received my message.

I am here to do your bidden.

Is it not mine, but your ancestors. She says.

I am stunned. Nooooo, it’s too soon.

My head hangs and the Enchantress lead me inside her little house and we sit over some hot tea.

The gatekeepers complain that rapid whispers have been calling your name. And they urged me to contact you.

Please ready yourself. You must go before the sun has fully risen. I put my head in my hands to try to steady myself.

The ferry bumps into the shore. It is sharp and clear. Some stars still hang in the west barely visible, but I see them.

I walk up the familiar slope and into the red pavilion. An ancient woman waits for me. I recognize her as a great, great grandmother whose name I do not know. But she knows me.

She wears a cotton blue and white kimono. And smiles serenely. I look around; no bleeding samurai ready to ambush and scare the living daylights out of me.

I sit on the small stool next to her and bow my head. My name is Kana, your grandmother was named for me. I smile at the familiar accent.

We have been waiting for you.

I bow my head and wait.

We are only here for a short time. But the soul goes on and on and some come back and some find new places to go.

You must find your place in this world. You must not forget everyday is a gift. You let little things bother you and that is not what you should be dwelling on.

I cannot speak back to her, because I know this is all true.

Get your soul in order, get your mind organize, do your art, time is of the essence.

You do not know what tomorrow brings. It is only when those around you leave forever that you realize they are not on vacation, they are gone to the great unknown. Do not weep for them. They are free. They can go beyond the body and mind. The spirit can see and know all the mysteries.

You can only guess at the mysteries. And I am telling you. Know that you will someday be dust. But today you have time to do something worthwhile.

Your Aunt and Uncle have heard your prayers. They are happy to be free of the body that suffered. They did not linger, but went quickly. Even now they hear the echoes of their name but they do not want to be held back by the family weeping. Let them go.

If anything remember what they dreamed and continue the dream of music and art.

Do you have any questions?

As if my mind had been wiped clean, I did not.

Thank you Grandmother, Kana. Is there anything else I should know?

She thought a moment. We know you are having a hard time. Your friend has told you a way. Try it on Litha. You must believe in your own personal power. You must believe in your own magic.

Everything she has said has rung true.

Her black eyes look through me to listen to my own voices. And she smiles and nods her head. Do not listen to those who do not support you. You will find what you need soon enough. Just be ready when the moment comes to you.

I cannot thank you enough.

I give her a clear quartz heart I carry in my pocket. She takes it in her hands and whispers over it. And gives it back to me. You need it more than I do.

I bow to her formally and then hug her and she laughs.

My tears have dried and I walk down to the shore to see the bright red sky of dawn just as man has witnessed for eons.

I squeeze the quartz and the ferry women pushes off from the Island of Ancestors.