I had to get out. To leave. But, where to go?
Driving and breathing deeply, I arrived at the lake five minutes later. Crystal clear and calm, the water shone beneath the cerulean sky amidst explosions of desert wildflowers, blooming sagebrush, fresh green grasses softly whispering. Donning my backpack, I started out for the scout camp…and passed it. And then, the urge to move, to race along the cliffbanks, to fly.
I clambered up the rocky incline. And then, it was like a flowing dance and when I reached the trees, the tiny waterfall was welcome and refreshing. I sat. Breathing. Touching earth. Feeling the lake. The land. And after a few moments, a massive presence of growth and cleanliness. I asked the Old Man of the Lake why he called. And he pulled a song from my memory.
"I wander pale from rainsoaked fields
So, darkened by long winter
And climb unto the sunlit hills
To hear grasses whisper
Mountains’ wild rose beacons me
Return to highest meadows
Where heaven’s dome is sweetened by
The innocence of swallows
For lo, the winter is past
The rain is over and gone
Flowers appear on the earth
The time of singing has come.
The time of singing has come."
So, I sang to him a song I learned 15 years ago. Locked away for that long. How do you actually describe it when something becomes more real by losing its substantiality? Merging with the experience in some way. I rested in his comfort/protection until impelled to move. To take the hidden path that skirts the shore. The air was alive with humming insects, flies, bees, wasps when I rounded a bend, the path winding through a juniper thicket covered in wild roses. Drying rosehips hung heavy on the vines mingled with last years sundried juniper berries. “My gift,” he sighed as a fat bumblebee entered the blossom nearest me. I’d never seen roses in the desert.
I collected several handfuls with thanks. Elation. Power. I cleared the rocky path, and he showed me the sage I needed. Then, I ran at a dead sprint through sweet grasses and yellow daisies, my feet barely touching the ground, leaping rocks; Alive. Alive. ALIVE!
The demon work I’ve been doing has been taking a bit of a toll lately. My energy has been erratic, as have my moods. And last night, my trance ended up so intense, I was drained for the first time and I let myself crash rather than feasting. So, why did he care? Why pull me into his domain to provide healing/cleansing herbs? Of course, I have to go back. Gotta keep peeling back the layers of this crazyass onion. He knew me. And that song. I haven’t been able to listen to lyrical music in over a year; words overwhelm and panic attacks ensued. And running as fast as I can with a backpack for nearly two miles over rocky terrain with no ill effects. A barrier was shattered. My memory is slowly coming back, and with it, good recollections tinged with color.
Think I’ll go make some rosehip tea. Then explore more realms of darkness. DUN Dun dun.