A bite of winter story

"We may not want to think about our ancestors, but our ancestors are thinking about us. We are connected, like it or not, to the ancestors of our biological families, their templates may control our habits and behaviors  unless we recognize and break the mold. We are also connected to the ancestors of the land where we live. We want to open and cherish soul connections to wise ancestors and departed loved ones, but for these relations to prosper we must start by clearing unhealthy legacies and energy attachments." - Introduction from Dreaming The Soul Back Home, Robert Moss

 

 

"Ariel Courtney was a Light Sparrow, a watcher by nature and only minimally human -- on her father's side ..."
Ariel and I

 

This post is a left-turn from the rambling wild mind writing I did here sorting onto the blog in the flavor of Morning Pages (thank you Julia Cameron) or the 'go for the jugular' directive of my early writing teacher Natalie Goldberg. Sometimes I have to follow the laid in concrete networks of my mostly left-brain arterials giving my habits a familiar path, or rut, appeasing the judgment that is my own critical voice. "How does that connect with this ... what's happening when an old habit leads to a night of physical pain as familiar the comfort zone prescribed so very, very, very long ago." Robert Moss's Introduction to Dreaming The Soul Back Home is one of the books I read to be with my ancestors. Making connections as Moss describes above is what I do in the waking and dreaming times.

 

Rambling as I did with that earlier post, has led to the other sort of writing that feeds me and my soul with legacies that can detach me from old contracts best re-written, or re-spoken. The writing of medicine stories, personal myths that weave joy, humor and magic fact and fiction, greeting  ancestors and species I feed me something sustaining. Like tales told and heard in ancient caves of initiation I am writing a tale to feed my soul this winter. It's tucked into the pages (above on the Home Page of Makua O'o). It is here, and I am calling it "Ariel and I". You may enjoy reading it one bite at a time as I write, tickle myself so the dark places will open to some light, and feed the old ghosts who have been hungry for so long. And, maybe, they will be fed well enough to leave me to my life so we as a legacy can enjoy the journey with a mix of both feather, fur, scales and skin.