Friday, 11 February 2011

A song upon the winter breeze as the future unfolds..

Venus gazes down from high upon the rested figure of this would be Cunning one, stirring from a light slumber I stand to greet the soon to be rising sun, dusting the morning frost from my clothes something deep within my soul is beginning to awake.
This is no mystery to me, as only a few hours earlier, beneath the cloak of darkness a divine gift began to emerge, in a smaller way, struggling to exit this spirit shield that is my own body, myself not allowing this part of me full passage into the world for fears known and unknown, preconceptions and misunderstandings.

As the sky toward the east begins to take on the colours of the coming day the song emerges , it is not what I expected it to be, yet it belongs in this moment, sounds flow from the core of my being, permeating through every fibre of the self and out into the wyrd, at first it takes the form of elation, the cry's of the newborn as it is thrown out to the waiting world, then it becomes something other, the wyrd itself, one with the heartbeat of all things at that time, the song of the rising sun, the earth at my feet, the waves that caress the distant shore and the cold winter wind that bites at this one's face, it unites gathers all the parts of my shattered soul, I am the flame, I am the rock, the wave and the sky, I am all and all becomes I in that precious awakening time, I am whole once again.
This is no delusion, I have waited patiently for sprit to find sound my whole life, only I was too caught up in minor distractions to realise, to have enough faith to give birth to this voice, tied down by my own preconceptions.
The chants heard at the festival fires have yet to speak to me, they are of the world and beautiful in their own right yet not on my own frequency, there have been only few occasions when I have heard this sound (one most recently), yet often these are not within my own cultural sphere and I have foolishly not considered the value of such as something that could even possibly belong to me.
I know now that culture or religion have no influence over the song, it transcends all those superficial barriers with ease, it permeates and flows through all things, it should not have come as a surprise to hear the similar sounds flowing from my own lips to that of a First nation American or a Mongolian Shaman, for whoever we are or where ever we may be, the Song is the same and will remain so, it still has an individuality that reflects the spirit that has formed it, yet if two of us from opposite sides of this planet were we to sing together there would be perfect harmony, for we are the vessels through which the world sings.
Perhaps one day my own song may have words, but for now the sounds are enough, it has taken some time for this feeling to settle, the Ritual hangover has now properly subsided which has allowed me the time to consider this gift, I hear the song at all times and know that that will always be so.

The rites of winter still have legs as it were, there is yet much to do, the seeds have been planted but there may still be time for germination to take place. What does the future hold?
For me, well who can tell, there are changes afoot, people to meet and rivers to cross, I have the tools and some knowledge, I look forward to continuing along this path for the rest of my days, grazing on the fruits and fungi I might find along the way.

There is a saying in the world that states "The rich get richer while the poor get poorer", I as have others seen this to relate to financial wealth, that may be true yet it can relate very much to our own world of Gnosis and the gathering of knowledge, to love and companionship, each step along the road to wisdom and friendship brings riches I had never thought possible and continues to do so, within this mundane world there are reflections, my own kin exceed expectation, we are far from financial security but rich beyond the reach of many others.
Travel well my friends, for you truly are a wealthy bunch indeed, I look forward to sharing a fruit or two with you in the future, perhaps fermented in some water for a while before consumption, may the coming tide bring all that you need and take away that which ails you.

So here's to love, life, knowledge and travel, the spirits of the past and those we are yet to meet.

Just don't ask me to sing about it, as my own song may well sound like a tortured goat to normal folk..

Flags, Flax, Fodder and Frigg.. Tony(the cunning man(well getting there)) Macleod

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