Posts Tagged ‘Faeries’

Portals at Asylum Lake

On Thanksgiving, David and I took a hike at one of our favorite spots in Kalamazoo — Asylum Lake Preserve. We always find portals and magical spots, and Thursday was no exception. Here are some that David managed to catch on his iPhone.

We call this one “The Ganesha Tree,” and he opens the way to one of the trails. Can you see the elephant eye, ears, leg, and trunk? I think it looks even more like Ganesha from the other side, but the lighting worked better this way.

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You can see the smaller of the two lakes behind me (above), and the larger of the two lakes below:

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We also saw some amazing faery portals: Continue reading

October 2017 Specials

Ah, the month of pumpkins, mums and All Hallow’s Eve! October is my favorite month of the entire year, with so many hinge points and the Celtic New Year on Samhain. This month’s specials reflect current energies and recent requests for support.

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The Faeries’ Dream

The Fae seem to go through phases of having strong messages and support for humanity, and I (and others) sense a recent increase in activity. This 20-minute reading can focus on Faery advice, requests, and/or messages for you, and/or instructions on how you can connect more easily and effectively with this Realm.

The Faery Realm holds the original imprint of our completely pure, loving and healed planet, so working with the Fae always puts us in close proximity of that possibility as material fact — what has always remained and thus already is pure, healed and beautiful. This reading springs from such knowing and offers a chance to learn what your faerie companions would most love for you to focus upon instead of all those things that crop up as worries or concerns. Invoking delight brings us that much closer to experiencing it. $77 if prepaid on or by October 31, 2017. Please contact me to sign up.

The Ancestors Approach

This is a brand new offering in honor of the upcoming All Souls’ and All Saints’ Days. It can cover generational healing, soul readings about your relationship with/to those who have passed, support for recognizing signs, or in appropriate cases, cutting cords that reach across the veil. $133 for 40 minutes if prepaid on or before October 31, 2017. Please contact me to sign up.

Faery Sightings

Methinks some of the faeries are more settled than the humans here …

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… at least, the ones in my office are. 😉

 

Farewell, Sweet Friend!

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It’s funny, but of all the the beings, plants, trees, furniture, and decorations we’re leaving behind, I will miss her most. This sweet faery has been with me since 2004 or 2005. She used to have a crystal ball, which almost immediately broke so that she could have a flower full of stones to hold. I don’t even know how many times she’s moved with me — I think 13 moves, including across the country in 2010.

I don’t know her name even after all this time, but she houses an actual faery. Others have seen her essence, too, including Continue reading

Tania Marie and Me: Equinox Visit and Cosmic Adventures with Our D’s ~ Part 2

Continuing on from where we left off in Part 1, Tania Marie, our Dave/David’s and I found ourselves at Cave of the Mounds — a stunning, prehistoric, subterranean world, carefully preserved since its discovery in 1939. You can see just a small selection of David’s photos from our guided tour below:

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Someone kindly managed to snap a photo of the four of us, quite the feat with everything either pitch black or brilliantly highlighted:

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Above ground we found butterfly and herb gardens, the top of a huge sinkhole we saw from below, and various trails “through time.” David caught Tania and me hamming it up as we “stopped to smell the roses.”

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After Cave of the Mounds, we faeries couldn’t resist going to nearby Mount Horeb, “the troll capital of the world!” Here we are on Trollcam, showing off Tania’s matching key tattoo:

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Since he missed our prehistoric peeps photo, we asked David to rest with us awhile on this kindly troll’s bench:

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Afterwards, we did some shopping, and then look who we saw on our way back home:

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We returned to their “Magick Bus” RV, where the guys took a Wisconsin brew break with New Glarus Indigenous IPA, while Tania and I enjoyed Live soda flavored kombuchas. Who knew cola and root beer could be so healthy?! Vegan pizza and salads followed at Roman Candle Pizzeria.

With our time together winding to a close, we realized we had not gotten any photos of baby Cosmo with “Auntie Laura,” so we all gathered again at the Magick Bus the next morning. Tania made smoothies from the greens I’d harvested from our garden, and we spent quality time with the world’s snuggliest rabbit. You could call this photo T.L.C.:

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Our 11 a.m. checkout time loomed near, so we said our goodbye’s and headed our separate ways — Tania and Dave West to Iowa, and David and me to meet our Madison friends for lunch before heading East to Goshen. We’ve already got some ideas in the works for the next trip, but with the four of us very much in flux and synchronicity so obviously at play in our lives, time and sync winks will tell where and when we meet again. I was telling David on the way home just how grateful and lucky I feel to have such a loving romantic partnership with him and such a deep, beautiful friendship with Tania … and now we both know and love Tania’s Dave, as well. So much laughter and love:

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Portals, Numbers and Falling Doors

I’m not entirely sure what to make of today’s post, but third time’s the charm, so I decided to share some of the strange goings on with portals, energies and falling doors at Faery Hof. The synchronicities have been over the top, as have the recent collective energies, which we are all processing in our own ways. I know David and I are in a period of major shift as we wind up our time in Goshen, and I know these painted portal doors are powerful. They always work, often very fast, and are coded for specific results as well as the highest good of all involved, not just human-centric.

Each door contains a personal prayer, as well as a collective offering. I’ve had some of them for nearly seven years, but I painted most in 2010, during my nine months in my ninth floor tower apartment two blocks from Lake Michigan in Hyde Park, Chicago after my divorce and subsequent return to the Midwest following a nine year stint moving around the most beautiful locations of the Pacific Northwest, Southwest, and Northern and Central California. Yes, lots of nines! Landing in that apartment was its own layered and seemingly destined event. If interested, you can read about my Chicago Moving Story and the Mother Lode of Doors here, but it’s enough to know about the nines and that the apartment I was directly led to by dreams, intuitive instructions and synchronicity just happened to be right under an attic full of doors that had been waiting there for five years per the new building owners’ instructions that their purpose would someday reveal itself.

I recently mentioned how I’m in a nine year on multiple levels of my astrological chart, nine being the number of the Hermit. Nine also features prominently in our address, but I won’t post those details here. In addition to the Hermit, nine is associated with Odin’s nine nights on the tree, as described in Odin’s Rune Song, which details how he hung on “the windswept tree” for “nine full nights,” sacrificing himself to himself until he noticed the Runes scattered below him. From his fasting, solitude and upside down perspective, he suddenly made sense of the Runes, spontaneously understanding them and claiming their wisdom and powerful energy as his own.

Anyway, there’s some background on the doors. They’re powerful, intriguing to visitors and blog readers, and they’ve done their job, usually with powerful synchronicities and changes. Until recently, though, they’ve existed in the background. They haven’t moved of their own accord, and I always considered them symbolic doors, painted spells, and/or energy portals to preferred realities. I don’t know if it’s the potent energies of 2016, the increased energies emanating from my garden, or an amplification of major inner transformation literally moving solid reality, but recently, these doors have begun to move.

On April 19, 2016, in a post called “Sync Winks and Faery Portals,” I shared a bizarre (even for me) experience with Door Number 17 ~ Elen of the Ways. The post itself contains an intertwined series of synchronicities and a strange “fall” down our steps in the wee hours of the morning. It’s long and involved, but to summarize briefly, instead of falling straight down the steps, I somehow pivoted in midair and literally flew into the door to left below:

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The door you see to the right is the one in front of our steps. In order to “fly” into the white door — designed as a portal into Faerie, as well as a prayer for “sustainable sovereignty” in our world –I was somehow carried and turned so that I landed by body slamming the door almost as though walking through the doorway, but it was solid. Miraculously, I received no injuries.

I had just been wondering, “Where will we move when we’re finally done our time in Goshen?” I know I’ve got a contract with this land, and David and I had earlier been discussing how I might as well just continue to dive into the gardens here until I’ve completed the transformation. I had forgotten a message from 2014 that I am opening a faery portal here with all the land healing, flowers, trees and sacred work I do on these two yards. Around the same time, I received a vision of David and me as very, very old people, sitting happily by a fire in what feels like Ireland but might be the actual faery realm. This has remained a steady vision of mine for years now, popping up when least expected, but I wasn’t thinking about it at all [that night].

Anyway, after asking that question, I floated/body slammed into a faery door with the address at the top of 444.

I eventually went back to bed, tossing and turning for awhile and then finally sleeping just long enough to awaken at 4:44 a.m., about 21 minutes before David’s alarm was due to go off. Note the address on Door Number 17: 444. You can read the synchronous story of that door’s creation by clicking here, but I didn’t notice the 444 sync wink until several more synchronicities prompted me to take a photo of it to share in [the April 19th post]. If I explain all the synchronicities, including a photo of me from March 2016 and a Wild Wisdom of the Faery Oracle card, today’s post will never get to the most recent events, so for now, please just note my strange intersection with a 444 door and then happening to look at the clock at 4:44 a.m. as the next clock time I saw:

According to Doreen Virtue’s Angel Numbers 101 book, “444 means that the angels are with you. It’s a comforting reminder from heaven, reassuring you that your prayers have been heard and answered, and that you are being helped, watched over, and protected by God’s angels.” The bottom quote of this 444 door offers Rumi’s quote: “Love says, ‘There is a way. I have traveled it thousands of times.'”

Fast Forward to Summer Solstice 2016, when another door dramatically reaffirmed its presence by toppling over right after I opened our curtains. Note that I did not actually touch the door when I opened the curtains, and I have done that same act without incident for over two years since we first hung those curtains. Door Number 6 ~ Freya and Frigga,Door Number 6 ~ Freya and Frigga, a door featuring goddesses involved with reweaving destiny … a door that originally hijacked my creative process and inserted itself ahead of Door Number 7 ~ The Lovers …this 1111 portal door on which I had been painting the golden sun drop tears when an intuitive voice told me to go join Facebook right then and there, an action that directly led to my meeting and eventually getting together with David after a fractal of absurd and mind boggling synchronicities … this door …

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…crashed down of its own accord on Summer Solstice 2016:

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Again, no damage to me or the door, but it certainly caught my attention! Tania and I had been texting about intensities happening with her beloved and magical rabbit companion, who was very ill, and we sensed very close to transitioning. The falling portal door seemed like the end of an era, but also the opening on a new one. Joy passed the next day.

In addition to the Full Moon on Solstice and the potency surrounding Joy’s shift, which revealed enormous growth and peace for Tania, I found it interesting that this door crashed down/”broke on through to the OtherSide” right after I had been doing some massive work around a pivotal event in my childhood. Synchronously, my mom’s house –the house where this still not fully understood cosmic, future setting event happened –also sold right at Solstice. The quote on the front of the door reads, “There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in.” ~ Graham Green.

The back of the door, revealed by the fall, features … Odin’s Rune Song! (Yes, all those nines are still at it … and the 1111 door fell at 8:11 or 9:11. I honestly cannot remember which at this time. Either way, we have an 1111 door falling at the 11th minute and if 9:11, then we have another 11 when we add the digits.) The back of the door also has some Hebrew on it, which I don’t recall painting, but which an Orthodox Jewish friend of mine traced to a VERY obscure announcement of liberation. The bottom panel has a chant to the Goddess in her many forms.

Anyway, that was Summer Solstice 2016. I did not feel led to post about that falling door until two nights ago, Door Number 7 ~ The Lovers moved almost of its own accord. I say “almost,” because I did somehow manage to catch a blanket on the door and, tugging it, apparently pulled the door down on top of me while in bed. I have never caught a blanket or pillow before, and I really don’t know how that happened this time, but somehow it did. This is the heaviest of all the doors, so I positioned it so that if it ever did fall, it would not hit my head. I don’t need anymore head injuries! We usually stack extra throw pillows and blankets on the stool next to the door, which you can see below:

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Note the 222 address, as well as the fact that this door got a January 2015 update of the red panel that now reads “Gaia” and includes the Celtic symbols “Wheel of Being” and “Destiny Knot” that represent harmony and a reweaving of destiny. The bottom quote reads: “Between God and the soul, there is no between.” ~ Julian of Norwich.

Apparently, between Lovers Door and body, there is also no between, and I’ve got the bruise to prove it:

bruise from the lovers door

As gruesome as that looks, I feel no pain in my arm unless someone really pushes the bruise. Despite my yank of the mysteriously caught blanket, the door seemed to fall in slow motion. I definitely felt it land, as the bruise reveals; however, like other experiences of my life that could have (by all rational accounts should have) resulted in very serious injury, this falling door did not crash anywhere near as hard as it could have. After waking David to help me lift it off me (it did not even make a noise as it “crashed”), I went downstairs to get some homeopathic arnica to take internally along with the external gel I had already applied. The clock downstairs read 2:22. So, here we have a third odd experience with a door, followed by seeing the door’s address echoed in the next glance at a clock.

According to Doreen Virtue’s Angel Numbers 101, angel message of 222 means “Trust that everything is working out exactly as it’s supposed to, with Divine blessings for everyone involved. Let go and have faith.” Um, okay, then! All those things I’ve set in motion and sensed moving behind the scenes — are apparently moving.

Also interesting is that as soon as the door fell and while I waited for David to wake up, I began hearing the mantra painted on the back of the door ~ a mantra invoking “the divine manifestations of the sacred union of masculine and feminine properties.”David and I have been experiencing positive recalibrations of many things in recent months, including a deeper balance and strengthening of the masculine and feminine qualities in ourselves and with each other. I know others — including my faery twin soul sister Tania and her Dave — who have felt the same uptick in mutual creation, focus, support, shared experiences, partnership and manifestation.

As with the story of my first “fall” into the 444 door, followed by seeing 4:44 on the clock and then having over the top synchronicities directly involving and mentioning portal doors, yesterday, David and I just happened to watch “The Adjustment Bureau,” a movie that just happens to feature main character named “David,” major synchronicities, deepening love, and … portal doors!

All I can say is that the doors have my attention. I will continue to take seriously the “Gatekeeper” and “Invitation to Faery” cards I keep pulling from Wild Wisdom of the Faery Oracle, both about portals, and I will continue to listen to the Four of Swords card (need for meditation/retreat) and the Moon (intuition, “stay on your path for safety”) cards I frequently pull from the Tarot. “The Adjustment Bureau” offers a great deal of insight into the concepts of Destiny, path, free will, portals and the ability of Love to alter reality. Plenty to continue pondering in my nine year at Faery Hof, Haus Am See and the gardens.

Happy Full Moon, Blessed Be … and be the blessing!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Indiana: The Wasteland and The Grail

This past weekend, David and I took a mini-getaway for his birthday. Our ultimate destination was Turkey Run State Park in West Central Indiana, but we decided to go via Lafayette, home of Purdue University — mostly because it afforded the most gluten-free, organic and/or vegan dining options. I had read that Lafayette and West Lafayette have the highest density population of anywhere in Indiana, so we prepared ourselves for hustle bustle, despite our intention to relax and go with the flow.

After years of caring for David’s parents and more recently my own, this was our first non-family, non-must-do-event getaway in as long as we can remember. No plans other than a 6:45 dinner reservation at Restauration and prepaid hotels in Lafayette on Saturday and at Turkey Run Inn on Sunday. Imagine our surprise when we arrived in Lafayette to find it almost completely deserted. Purdue must be out of session, because we saw hardly any students and even fewer adults. We actually referenced the Twilight Zone on several occasions, because the streets were that empty!

We checked into the Baymont and received an immediate upgrade to a corner room with a king bed. We had stocked up our cooler for the rest of the trip at the Mishawaka Whole Foods (which David helped open in 2013) and planned to wander around Lafayette art galleries and quaint shops, but we found most of them closed. With unexpected time before our dinner reservation, we headed over to Clegg Botanical Gardens, just outside of town. Reviews warned that it was more of a “nature trail” than a formal European garden, but that suited us just fine. The hills and dramatic views of Wildcat Creek cleared our heads and made me smile. Although we only spent about 20 minutes on steep steps and a winding trail, we felt the industrial views and dilapidated buildings of our trip there — and daily life in Goshen — fade away. I felt water begin to pour into my soul.

When we arrived back in Lafayette a mere 45 minutes later, the city suddenly seemed fully inhabited! Nary a parking space anywhere. All the restaurants were full, and we needed to tap our parking angel connections to make our reservation on time. More Twilight Zone jokes: when did they all land? As became a theme on this getaway, we got seated in the furthest away corner table, snugly tucked into our own universe. We enjoyed the food — mostly local, mostly organic/heirloom, with numerous vegan and gluten-free options, organic hard cider, and homemade bread from Einkorn wheat. It didn’t knock-our-socks-off, but we didn’t care. As we decompressed over dinner, we realized just how difficult the past three years have been for both of us, and we realized that we have made it through. We can feel the restoration after a very long time in the Wasteland.

I mentioned to David how many synchronicities I’ve had lately surrounding the Grail story. It seems everything that crosses my path somehow references the tale in new, deeply resonant ways. Sharon Blackie’s book, “If Woman Rose Rooted,” explores this ancient Celtic story in both its sanitized and Christianized forms, as well as its wilder forms — recognizing the Wasteland of what humanity has done to our Earth and our responsibility (and ability) to re-enchant the world. I highly recommend this book for both men and women, btw, since it reveals how the sacred masculine needs the divine feminine principle in order to return to its own balance. Sharon’s book interweaves her own story with that of many inspiring and deeply rooted women. Various iterations of the Grail story punctuate the cloth like repeating jeweled colors and patterns of a rich tapestry.

In any case, I fell asleep on Saturday night after reading another Celtic retelling of the Grail with women as its sacred protectors … and with its mythological connection between abusive, disrespectful patriarchal leadership and barren land. So often when I look upon the once tree covered Indiana, my heart and soul weep for this very same situation. Our world faces so many ecological crises, but the flat, industrialized, blight ridden, grey, dilapidated, toxic and ugly assault me whenever I leave my faery haven cocoon. Fortunately, the restoration of our Land continues, inspired by the complete contrast and a sense of urgency that I feel bubbling up not only from my soul but from the Land itself.

Because we live in a beautiful little house, with a beautiful and colorful magical office house next door and beautiful, lush, abundant gardens everywhere around and in between, I tend to lose sight of what I’ve done in three years. Only when I leave this sacred, healing spot does the harshness of Northern Indiana yank the magic carpet from beneath my soul until I remember that I’m the one who flies. I’m the one restoring this land, nurturing perennials, bulbs and fruit trees, planting native wildflowers, and designing sacred”rooms” inside and out.

Our drive to and around Lafayette reminded me, yes, of what feels so offensive to the inner artist in me, but it also registered possibilities. As we drove through neighborhood after gardenless, unlandscaped neighborhood, I began seeing gardens everywhere. “Do you realize how beautiful this world could be, David?! Do you realize how much food we could grow and how lovely it would all become?” When he mentioned poverty of both pocketbook and spirit, I wondered aloud, “Yes, but what if those come from a lack of imagination, a lack of vision? What if planting flowers and throwing colorful paint on old buildings could charm the poverty away? What if getting hands in the dirt really did heal depression like scientific studies continue to show?” Re-enchantment.

The next day we drove the hour to Turkey Run State Park. It was too rainy to go to the reportedly quieter Shades State Park, since that one can become treacherous in wet weather, so we got to Turkey Run Inn early. Once again, we found our room ready and tucked away in a quiet corner. My friend Dana from The Druid’s Garden had told me months ago that she had experienced one of the most sacred spots on Earth ever — not just in Indiana — at Turkey Run, and my soul hungered to feel in real life (not just my imagination) that deep, restorative healing it craved from Nature.

Despite all my gardening –and in all our travels I discovered that I actually have the most extensive garden I’ve seen for hundreds of miles and many towns in multiple states– I frequently feel starved for Nature in Northern Indiana. Instead of receiving from the Earth as I have in so many of my homes, with few exceptions, Goshen feels like everything I enjoy here, I made or co-created myself, usually through passionately love-filled vision and hard work. People appreciate the effort, but I knew I needed to replenish all the energy going out of me since we moved here in November 2 012. For months, I’ve anticipated this trip, expecting to feel cleansed by Nature’s holiness.

And quiet.

We arrived on Mother’s Day, which was maybe not the best planning, but synchronously, this experience triggered massive downloads and focus, so no mistake. When we began our hike, I immediately noticed the crowds. I don’t do crowds, so they seemed even larger than they probably were. At first, I assumed my ears deceived me about the volume of noise. “Don’t be so picky, Laura, that’s just a bird squawking in the distance. Nature’s not silent. Try to enjoy all Her creatures.” As we continued our walk, though, I found that in fact, those squawks were not birds, but children. Shrieking, yelling, rambunctious kids.

Again, I tried to talk myself out of my sense impressions. “Laura, it’s Mother’s Day. They’ve chosen to celebrate by bringing their kids in Nature. Chill out.” As the volume increased, we stopped at a sign describing how Turkey Run exists as a preservation of life on Earth 20,000 years ago. Microclimates offer enormous diversity in such a small area of land, and this spot stands alone outside the rest of the similar areas in Minnesota, Wisconsin and Michigan. David lovingly calls Turkey Run, “The Indiana Dells.”

The sign’s reverence for the unique and sacred aspects of this park warmed my heart. Instead of simply saying, “Stay on the trails,” the sign explained how “the greatest threat to this 20,000 year old preservation is you,” going on to note how park visitors’ actions can change the delicate balance required to maintain this Land. In addition to not trampling delicate flora, signs carefully explained all sticks should be left in place to decompose and add to the soil’s fertility.

With that in mind, we turned a curve to find the source of much of the squawking. Pre-teen boys covered in mud ran recklessly around a bridge and stream. They had huge sticks and smashed them — loudly and aggressively — in the water, while their father egged them on. Passersby with children allowed their own children to join the fray, climbing boulders and shouting from the top, splashing mud on themselves and others, yelling to each other from dozens of yards away or up close. Volume had nothing to do with proximity. I covered my ears and tried to identify one set of parents to connect with to begin to turn the tide, but the volume continued to rise and rise until my head began to spin.

“This is worse than a Walmart,” I said to David.

“The irony,” he said, “if that no one would act like this in Walmart.”

“It’s like screaming in a cathedral,”I whispered — outraged, as I knew we just happened to be standing right in the most sacred spot that Dana had mentioned. It looked truly magical. How could these children and their parents be so oblivious to the wonder here?!

“I didn’t come all this way to experience a Chuck E. Cheese or bumper car birthday party.”

“It’s Mother’s Day,” said David, hopping off to take some photos.

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I continued covering my ears, because the sounds of the yelling echoed in the canyon walls, amplifying each voice as more families began to arrive and thoughtlessly smash sticks on the rocks and water. It was the first Mother’s Day I’ve ever pondered the virtues of population control and plagues, and doing so felt as horrible as the shattered dream of sitting near a waterfall or spring and just communing with our real Mother … Mama Earth. Seriously, how could so many people come to such a gorgeous, sacred place and desecrate it? I’m usually so optimistic about humanity’s ability to turn things around, but I began having serious doubts on Sunday.

Thankfully, David insisted we keep walking, even when that walk turned to the “rugged” portion of the trail. I was so frazzled from the shouting that I did not trust my balance on a slippery, narrow rock ledge covered with moss, but my Taurus David had set his mind on reaching “The Punch Bowl.” I could either remain at the bottleneck of screaming, splashing pre-teens, or I could slip and slide my way through to the next phase. I used to rock climb, and those skills returned as the waterfall’s roar covered the human shouts.

David planned to turn around after “The Punch Bowl,” but I told him I could not face returning to that bedlam. My soul needed quiet, and as we began to get a little bit, my prayers became more focused. “Please, please, please, lead us somewhere peaceful and restorative.”

David went down to the Punch Bowl, and I climbed up a path to sit at the top of the waterfall he wanted to photograph. While there, the water washed away my earlier frustration and soothed the raw nerves. A warbler began to chirp on a nearby tree, and from the spring that fed the waterfall, I felt a strong Mother presence holding space for me, as my soul unwound. Un-twined, but also unwound as in un-wounded, un-hurt itself. I felt my soul heal by those holy waters.

Having passed the slippery threshold, we agreed to walk this longer, more rugged path in order to experience the quiet restoration we came here to receive. The rest of the journey did not disappoint, and several historical markers along the way revealed that the horror, outrage and sorrow I felt at desecrating the sacred actually helped to birth this park and the entire Indiana State Parks System. I found communion with the humans who recognized the beauty and power of this place and who did something to preserve it. Perhaps I will tell that story in depth another time, as this post grows long, but suffice to say, the people who created and maintain Turkey Run State Park are deeply reverent, soulful beings who honor the Waters and the Land. I felt humbled and inspired.

We returned to our room for a snack and lazy afternoon nap, then wandered out to Sunset Point at day’s end. I expected to find a crowd there, too, but David and I found ourselves alone with the woods, taking a magical walk at twilight.

After our cooler saved dinner, we talked and read in bed for awhile, both feeling freshly washed by our day outside. I continued to read “If Women Rose Rooted” and came upon the Breton version of Arthurian legends and the Grail. I have a special connection to Brocéliande due to a faery who visited our yard in 2014 and helped with the landscape design (its own long story!). In any case, I again fell asleep thinking and dreaming of the Grail. The next morning I realized I was a day behind in Celtic Spirit: Daily Meditations for the Turning of the Year. As usual, the delay proved synchronous, since May 8 just happened to discuss not only the Grail but ways in which we can ask for the Grail to help restore whatever exists as a Wasteland in our lives or communities. Sharon Blackie had just been urging a similar process in “If Women Rose Rooted.”

Grail Celtic Meditation

I immediately presented my own need for healing as it relates to healing our Land in Goshen, and then Indiana at large. This state once housed the most magnificent trees! If not for people like state parks creator Richard Lieber and writer and activist Juliet Strauss, the rest of Indiana might have fallen to the timber companies devouring everything in sight. If not for those of us in Goshen loving the Land, planting trees, supporting the farmers market and creating and supporting the Arts, Goshen would not be bubbling forth with new, fresh waters of life. If not for people doing similar things in other spots, our entire Earth would turn into corporate cookie cutter buildings, ravaged land and poisoned wells.

But people do care. In lots of places. Some places need more care than others, and Indiana is such a place. Six months of dreams called me to Northern Indiana from Northern California. It has been difficult, and I came by way of Chicago’s Lake Michigan and Madison, WI. But I did come, and I did plant and root and grow. Others have preserved. I sent out my prayer yesterday for the Grail to pour its healing waters on the Wastelands of Indiana. As soon as I finished my prayer, I drew a card from Wild Wisdom of the Faery Oracle Deck and placed it on the Indiana blanket where I happened to be sitting upon the bed:

Grail Faery

The Grail Faery!

Just then, David returned from a little photo jaunt outside to snap pictures of a statue in honor of Juliet Strauss:

Subjugation close up

Indeed, the Grail is present within the Wasteland, pouring healing waters upon the Land. May we each do our part to restore and re-enchant the Mother we all share.