The Waters are Rising...

"The Willow's Dance for the Ocean"

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Like waves that both crashed against my shore and gently lapped along my edges, I laid in a state of ecstasy, feeling the ripples and energy of the waves wash over me.  I knew that I had been forever moved from where I once stood.  As my rational mind slowly made its way back from the depths of the watery realm, I watched as the Willow gracefully collaborated with the Wind in the most exquisite of dances.  For just a moment; the part of me which had not returned, the part of me which was still dancing on the edge of ecstasy could see the web that held it all together.  The Willow and her roots always seeking water, always trying to find her way home to the Mother.  Her dance was for the Mother of us all, the one she continually longs to be close to, the one that is home and the one that sustains life.  For just a moment I could see her roots stretching like a network of fragile neurons, reaching for that which she loves, longs for, weeps for and always remembers.
 
What had only moments before been ecstasy moved into the deepest waters of grief.  I would later find myself on my knees weeping as I had watched the Willow do.  I spoke words to the Mother of us all.  As the tears flowed from my eyes I made an oath that I would do my part to assist in remembering Her...

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For the last year the water in my dreams has been steadily rising.  Even when the dreams have been rooted in the sands and surroundings of this desert home, they have been messages speaking of the water's arrival.  The rising of tides.  The dry riverbeds of the arroyos flooding.  In this nightly realm, even when the speech and messages have spoken to the absence of water, they have spoken about the events that will occur upon its arrival. 

What of the last five years of my inhabitance in this desert landscape has been or has served a purpose of "drying me out"?  An evaporation or hollowing, a burning away of what is no longer needed or necessary for me to carry.  Old ways of thinking like ancient aquifers that no longer reach to the places in need of irrigation, baking in the sun to dry and crumble and once again return to the earth.  What if I have been training on how to survive and thrive in conditions such as these?

As of late, the liquid landscape of the dreams has been increasing in intensity.  Their message growing in strength, and speaking of a quickening.  What if the magnificent Ocean Mother has been calling to me?  Letting me know of our meeting or perhaps more appropriately of our reunion?  When I made the journey to this arid land that has been my home for the past five years I thought then that I would root here for the remainder of my life.  I had been called here in dreams by the voices of those whose legacies and lives have been seeped into this ground.  This beautiful, rugged, wild and carved landscape has taught me much.  She opened her arms and embraced me, and then, as she held me tight, she began her tempering.  One lesson after another...parasitic infestations...the plummet of financial instability...near death by carbon monoxide poisoning...lessons on love and betrayal...a touch with bubonic plague...boulders falling from mesas and destroying my transportation...a swarm of locusts devouring the fruits of the garden...the list goes on and on...

I wrapped my arms around her neck and held on tight, praying that she would change her embrace.  I prayed that she would kiss me gently, whisper in my ear and speak to me of our love for one another.  There were moments of such tenderness.  Moments when she and I held hands and matched our footsteps to one another.  But as a lover she would not marry her hand to mine.  As is the case with lovers who sometimes magically enter our lives, the passion and the desire for union was intense, beautiful, epic - they teach us much.  They hold a mirror of reflection up and we are blessed to see more clearly our own faces.  She has done this for me.  She has revealed pieces of my landscape that I had yet to know, that I could not see, that I refused to look at.

As the marking of time passed and the events and happenings of the previous year drew to a close, an unexpected man entered my life.  He arrived in this desert land with the whisper of the Ocean.  The smell of her wind and body carried magically and embedded in his skin, being, words and way of existence.  Recently I have found myself wondering if she had sent him to carry me in his arms to her.  The cargo is being prepared.  The route is being mapped and the sailing crew is almost assembled.  The voyage from this land of sand and sun will set sail on August 20th, making a voyage that will lead to the waters.

Mother, I am coming home to sit upon your shores and fulfill the promise that we spoke of in the watery realm of the dreams.

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"Mother's Nature"

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What had only moments before been ecstasy moved into the deepest waters of grief.  I would later find myself on my knees weeping as I had watched the Willow do.  I spoke words to the Mother of us all.  As the tears flowed from my eyes I made an oath that I would do my part to assist in remembering Her...
 
That night as I slept I had the following dream…
 
I am slowly meandering my way along a vast and expansive shoreline. There is only the shoreline, the Ocean, the edge created by their meeting and the sound and movement of the Wind.  As I travel along the edge I glimpse a small hut a ways off in the distance.  As I approach the hut I notice the absence of a door.  I step through the opening and find myself inside with a Woman who is of substantial matter.  She is sitting on the floor of the hut as if she has always been there, waiting.  Her skin is the color of the deepest of sand and copper and her flesh is bountiful and gracefully drapes her bones in abundance and the wealth of her knowing.  Her hair flows in thick and wild ropes around her shoulders, past her heaving breasts and touches the earthen floor of the hut.  In front of the Woman is a low table made of driftwood that has swam in the waters of the Ocean since time began.  On the table there is a row of necklaces each bearing an amulet.  Each amulet has been made from pieces of the Ocean, pieces of Her.  The Woman lifts her head and her eyes meet mine.  She says the following; “My daughters are going to be in a play for the Ocean.  Each daughter must pick an amulet to wear.”  She finishes speaking and simply holds my gaze with her large eyes.  It is as if she has always been here.  Waiting.
 
Less then a week after having this dream I was visited by a young woman.  Upon arriving at my home she presented me with a present from her recent travels to the Ocean.  She opened her hand to reveal a necklace with an amulet made from a white bursa center cut seashell.  As she handed me the amulet she said, “I wanted to bring you an amulet from the Ocean.”  As I turned to look at this young woman,  for just one moment, in her eyes, I saw the eyes of that beautiful copper skinned Woman who has always been there.  Waiting.

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