Lady of the Lake – Alan Lee
I sat in the forest yesterday, kneeling on wet moss, seeing the rain come down over the trees. I looked for strength, placing my hands on the earth, looking up at the clouds. I reached into the sky, hands cupping light, praying to my Divine Father, feeling the Goddess circling me everywhere I looked.
I’m filled with doubts so often, losing faith, but the world is simpler in the forest, clear like the rain falling, like the streams meandering through the woods. I breathed deeply and sat for a long time, seeing the sun sink low on the horizon, feeling the shift in the air, the day falling into evening.
My husband and I went for a long walk around a mountain lake, last Sunday. I was tired, but as always nature has a way of seeping into my heart and bones, and I looked up to see clouds rolling in, mist floating over treetops, and everything felt dark and brooding, as though the world was waiting for rain and storm. I felt there were stories in the air, and I could feel them reaching for me, tugging me along, and I didn’t want to return to the car, not yet, not yet. As always the forest wrapped its magic around me, and I lost myself in it, would have stayed there if my husband didn’t have a hold of my hand.
Where do you go when your spirit needs to breathe, when your heart needs healing?
I think I’ve always been looking for God, ever since I heard about Him. Growing up I had many interests, but several I developed because I felt I should have them, when in reality I wanted to explore magic, mysteries, God.
Religion was at times my favorite topic in school because we could discuss things then, philosophize and wonder a bit. But my craving for something deeper wasn’t fulfilled, and I had no one to turn to. My family wasn’t religious, and the church didn’t call to me. I couldn’t get interested in what the Minister said, but I remember very vividly looking at the light streaming through the windows and wanting it to reach me. Somehow I felt I could get closer to God through that light, through the sky and trees outside.
I prayed at night because I wanted to be good, and I had many fears that worried me. Sometimes when I asked for help, little problems that I had would go away.
I wanted to talk to him, but maybe I didn’t know how to listen. I didn’t know how to trust what I felt. I thought he didn’t answer me back. Maybe I wanted something grand and spectacular, like an angel appearing in the corner of my room, but of course, that didn’t happen.
In the evenings I would sometimes climb onto a pile of wood below our house, covered by a tarp and flat rocks, and sit there, gazing at the sunset. I felt I was reaching for something then, something beautiful and sacred, and hidden. My heart longed for this something, called out to it though I didn’t know what it was.
It’s interesting to look back and see how my heart has led me, and where I went astray. When I stopped asking for help, my life felt murky, dark, but perhaps that was part of the guidance also. I had developed a belief, a deep fear that I wasn’t loved, so I turned away from him. My life had cracked around me, and I lost hope, lost the little bit of faith I had.
I continued searching. The stars seemed to lead me, and I went for many walks alone, looking up up, feeling that perhaps an answer lay in the sky above me. I couldn’t follow any religion, any paved out path when I tried I felt restless, like my spirit wanted to break free and roam the woods. Perhaps I was looking for something that I remember, deep in my bones. When I first read about the Goddess, I felt tears swell inside of me. I wanted to dance for her, the way I read about in the book in my lap. It was my first glimpse of her, but it would take a few years still before I started listening and following her. At first, she seemed cold, distant, and I wasn’t sure how to approach her, bring her into my life.
I learned how the Goddess is in nature, in me. Mother Earth, the Earthly Mother. And Father Sky, our Heavenly Father, that he is always watching over us. I’m exploring this, as I walk through the forest, by the lake. I try to understand what I hear inside of me, what my heart is telling me, what nature is telling me.
I used to feel so sad, depressed even because I thought there was no magic in the world. That it could only be found in stories and on TV. I remember a bleak grayness descending over me as I thought this when I was only a teenager.
I think the magic I was looking for was the voice of my soul. Because it had been speaking to me all this time, trying to guide me, and yet I did not know it, and didn’t know how to listen, that I was allowed to listen. I was so focused on being smart and good and thought that was the only way I could have some value in the world. If I didn’t do well in school, I had no value.
But there was a greater magic too, that I yearned for. A knowing that miracles could happen, that wonderful, unthought things could happen. I think my first stepping stone into this was through astral projection, the awe I felt when I found myself in another world, light as a father, like a ghost, walking through my bedroom door.
I feel we’re being guided all the time, in whispers around us, in the wind, in our soul. Perhaps we’re never alone; maybe someone is always lovingly walking with us. I like to think this. I remember wanting it to be true, especially when I saw pictures of angels, and those drawings of children crossing a bridge, or picking flowers by a cliff’s edge, a white angel behind them, protecting them.
What has your spiritual journey been like?
A glimpse from my past
My short story on kindle is now free!
Artodyssey- Christian Schloe
I need to be quiet now because all words have left me. I reach for them, but they do not come, or they do come, but then leave me all too soon, and I can’t finish what I’ve started. I have many posts now in my draft folder; half created. Maybe I’ll share them later, when I can look at them again, listen to what they’re saying, what I felt then. Below is a post from a moment at a cafe. Being away from home make it easier for me to write.
At a Cafe
I want to be on the outside of things, during this Christmas time. Watch from the edges, from the window of my favorite cafe. I look at people walking on the street below, so many now, just before the holidays, doing the last bit of shopping, talking, some holding hands. I’m too tired to shop. I avoid the stores, their pull on me, what they want from me. I need to do things quietly, slowly, turn things over in my hands. I don’t want to buy things in a rush, so I allow myself not to.
I picked up my dress today, the one that I had found second hand, too big, that I took to the tailor. It felt like a waterfall, soft, flowing to my ankles. I wanted something that reminded me of the night sky, of magic. I wanted this dress, even though I had to travel all the way to the city to have it fitted, and back again to pick it up. But at least, then I had an excuse to go to a cafe, to eat chocolate and sip my tea slowly, watching people, taking in that special feeling of Christmas approaching.
I watch the world darkening now, gray turning into blue, enjoying the lights and stars drawn between white buildings.
I still feel a bit of anxiety around Christmas, to make it nice, to not be disappointed in it, because it’s not the same, will never be the same, as it is for all of us, never quite as it was when we were kids.
But it’s ok. It really is. I remind myself of this. And again I want to step back and gather something in my heart, that light I’m always looking for, that inspires me more than anything else. I want music and candles in the dark. I want the cold nights and early evenings. I want the scent of spice and special food only made on Christmas Eve.
And I want a quiet secret to hold in my heart, between the Goddess and me, and my Heavenly Father. I want to sit between them both and lean into their love, find a way to relax, because I feel so anxious and in need to control things, to make them a certain way. But I’m tired of all that. I want to curl up someplace inside of myself and rest.
I used to feel so sad when Christmas was over when all those little lights were taken down. But now I have something to look forward to, – for when I can go deeper into my writing, find some quiet and peace to reflect. It gives me joy and focus, and I’m grateful. It is my gift to myself.
Wishing everyone a beautiful Christmas and Solstice.