Father Sun's Energy Worker

When I renewed my vows this past Winter Solstice, I didn't realize how much would change. Oracle warned me changes were coming, sure. Wolf my Guide gave me the clue that I needed to get out and meet people, to get out of my cave. Remembering the significance of that string of beads around my neck wasn't a coincidence.

But my service to Mother has been a gentle, almost kind guidance; a few things I was moved to do and more I was nudged to learn. I was not prepared for Father's sudden attention. He is a much more demanding top, to say the least. And if what happened the other day on a windy bluff is any indication, He's not willing to allow me to take my time and figure things out on my own. He will show me the changes He wants by making them and requiring me to upkeep them. Period. The response I am allowed is "yes sir".

Don't get me wrong. I am not complaining. I may have been called to this service, but I also gave myself willingly. There's the possibility that I might not have survived if I'd rejected the calling, but I embraced it. I have placed one foot in front of the other on this path I'm on of my own free will. I believe that this is exactly what I need to be doing with my life. That doesn't mean I'm totally comfortable with what's happening right now.

On the twentieth of December, 2012 (just so I don't forget the date), I lit my altar candles at dusk. I said my thanks, put on some quiet music and sat down to work on that Winter Solstice poem I put in an older post here. It came together easily, like so many of the important things do. And as I sat admiring the blue of it, the real significance hit me. I meant every word,  from describing the day's meaning to the peace my vows give me. I contemplated that. I mulled it and eventually wrote about it all over the place, happy in my collar, in my service, for the first time in a very long time.

That evening, the twentieth, I was changed by Them for the first time in a very long time. First came a rush of energy that left me a bit dizzy, but so calm and peaceful that it wasn't frightening. Then came the change, small but significant, gentle but firm. Oddly, I'm reluctant to describe exactly what was done, as if it's a test for those who meet me, or a sign to them. So if you do meet me, feel free to remark on it. I floated on the feeling of it all for days.

There have been other changes. Oracle once gave me subtle answers that required thought. Now I'm getting some answers that are as blunt as a stick thumping my thick skull and some so ambivalent as to be incomprehensible. Almost as though the answer is "that's not worth your attention right now." Instructions are sometimes given to me in clear words, although I do still get the intuitive urges I'm more used to. And for the first time I am required to meditate daily - forgetting means being woken in the middle of the night to do so in a less than comfortable way.

Father is a demanding top.

"Drive there" was accompanied by a clear memory image of where He wanted me. "Walk that direction" wasn't a suggestion. "Stop here," "sit" and "be still" didn't leave much to the imagination, either. But even though I didn't know how far I was supposed to go, I was allowed to take my walking stick, and although the answer to "sit how long?" was "however long it takes" the place chosen for me was comfortably grassy with a cedar tree for a back rest. And even though it was a cold and windy day on the bluff, the sun was bright and warm. I was allowed no questions, no choices but where to rest the stick. He gave instructions and I followed them. And he shifted my personal shields in a way I still don't totally understand two days later.

I had a moment or two of fear when I felt the changes happen. I was urged to trust, and I do, but I'm not sure my comfort was necessary. Later that day I read some of Raven Kaldera's words on being a god slave and I'm even more grateful for the comforts I was offered on that bluff. This path, this new type of service is a bit more scary than I'm used to. I'm being led gently into it, I know. The horseshoe in my old dream vision is gaining a new bit of significance, too, and the thought of being the horse for my Owners is frightening. But I trust, and if and when I'm set that task I will open my mouth for the metaphorical bit and stand still for whatever rider my Owners choose.

I chose to serve. I suppose I could unchoose - quit this service altogether. I won't, but I have that much free will. Past that, I am and will be whatever my Owners say, and I will be the best whatever I can be, learn what I'm led to and take the comfort I am offered. I know soul deep that my path would be harder to walk if I resisted even some of Their will. I choose not to.

This is not the path for everyone. I'm not sharing this as any sort of "how to" manual. I'm even sure that other divine owners won't treat their property like mine have, won't require the same things of them and won't allow (or sometimes require) them to write so freely about the process. If you walk a similar path, though, maybe you'll recognize some of this. Maybe it will help you to accept what's going on in your own journey. Maybe it will be a contrast for your journey and you can shake your head at me and tell me I have it easy. Say it loud, though. I have scars on my eardrums, remember. All part of the process.

Each time I've sat down to write an entry for this blog journal, I've been encouraged to do so, and even prompted with a subject once or twice. Today I sat down with the intent to say what's been on my mind since that very still hour I spent on a bluff. Father is a demanding top, and that thought makes me smile even as I worry just a bit about the work He is preparing this tool for. And the answering fond chuckle I hear in response to that sentiment is as good as the hand in my hair my submissive side craves to feel.

I am content to be owned by deities I trust. I accept the fact that I am being reshaped by them again. And I hope your journey is easier than mine.

Love, peace and comfort to you all.

Again, the Cycle Turns.

I'd talk about grieving, but for me that's a process that I'm nearly done with , at least for now. At least where it applied to my Grandma. What I want to talk about here is the moving on of the spirit.

For the last few days of her life, I stopped in to see her off and on. She had good care. She didn't suffer. But there was something else going on within her.

Grandma had Alzheimer's Disease. I helped care for her for years. I watched what happened to her body, her mind, and her spirit. Her mind disintegrated. Her body withered. Her spirit drew in on itself, focused more and more inwardly. As her mind came apart, lost track of what was familiar and lived in anxiety, her spirit tightened within. When finally three months ago we sent her to a Nursing Home because we couldn't take care of her anymore, her spirit was a quiet, huddled bit of her. My sweet, generous, loving Grandmother was there, but had no way to communicate with us, maybe no way to know what was going on.

Those last few days were different. Morphine stilled the pain of her body. Sedatives soothed her damaged mind. And her spirit unwound.

I wish I could tell you what it looked like, but I don't "see" spirits. I could feel it relax, stretch, soften. That was the woman I knew, the one who gave so freely and always had time to listen to a child and try to explain the world in the most positive way. When life gave her lemons, she didn't stop at lemonade, she made pie. And in her last few days, she was present in that ruined shell, her spirit warm and loving.

I suppose I looked a little odd at her bedside, smiling while she gasped to breathe through the last stages of pneumonia. It's a bit hard to explain why I don't sound more like the grieving grandchild. How can I? I'm thrilled. Not only has her suffering ended, but her beautiful spirit is free again! It's an occasion for dancing, singing, shouting with joy.

I'll miss her. I love her. We'll meet again. All the rest is details.

To Live Between

I live between. Between the world and the sky. Between the spirits and the people. Between man and woman. Between carnal and ascetic. Between dominant and submissive. Between teacher and student. Between body, mind and spirit. Between Mother, Father and Creator. Between the North, South, East and West. Between Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Wood.

I could go on, but that’s enough.

It’s not a perfect middle, this place where I’m at. I look like a woman, sometimes think like one and even rarely act like one. My contact with the spirits is often brief, and contact with people only sometimes longer. I am far more submissive in one world than the other. I stand strong between two or three or sometimes four realities and begin to waver among more. I feed my pleasures more often than my denials. My body is a bit overweight and my spirit a bit underfed. But I’m still between, still here, still touching more edges of things than most do.

And this is my place. Not dominant or submissive, but both and neither. Not male or female, but both and neither. Not only my Mother’s servant, but also my Father’s energy worker and my Creator’s shaman. And nothing at all; an empty bowl, a hollow bone, a blank page, a silent room. This is what it means to be shaman, to be me, to walk this path I’m on.

When you need to speak, I’ll strive to listen. When there is something for you to hear, I will talk. When you ask for help, I will seek it for you. If you ask a question, I’ll give you the best answer I have. When you need my focus, you will have all of it. And more often than not, I’ll respond to what you most need, either bringing out that side of myself for you or leading you to see that you need it.

But know this, too. When Mother needs me, I am hers to command. When the spirits tell me to wait, I do. When my feet itch to walk, I walk. If I am distracted, there is probably a reason. And if I give you a feather, a rock, a bone, a book, there is probably a reason for that, too. If I don’t seem to be acting the way you want, then there’s a reason for that, too, even if I might not be aware of it.

There is peace and joy in this life between, so much that it overwhelms me at times. Is there any wonder that I try to stay here, to continue this path, to do what those I have given myself to tell me to do? Even though I live between, confuse people around me and make few strong ties because of it. Even though so many things in my life are only things I’m holding for someone else. Even though the needs of others so often come before my own. Even though I gain new scars along with the experiences I’m given to grow from. Even though I end up explaining things to death and spending a lot of time examining my own self. Even though it may mean that I can’t belong to the pack I still long for. Every time I open my senses, still the chattering monkey brain, and simply feel where I am, I know that this is my place of harmony. That I am meant to live between.

Maybe all that made some things about me clear for you. Maybe it just muddied the waters more or ensured that you think I’m a total nut case. You can ask and I’ll try to explain, if you’d like. But if you understand, if you’ve been here, or are on this path yourself, I hope that you’ll talk to me. It’s a wonder filled path, but lonely, too. I know. I’m here. And I’ve taken this step.