Category Archives: Spirit Journeys

This has been changed from Shamanic Journeys to refrain from using terms that refer to cultures I have not experienced.

After the Flying Drum Ceremony – The Divine Below

She is the golden diamond, drunk from the cool, cool springs within
she is the sweet, sweet nectar which the bear so cherishes
she is whole
some and old
en and fresh with bounty from the sun’s new kisses
the divine within
the divine mother earth
the rivers rush diamond, cleansing us
the pungent peat of life
receiver of all fallen
she who knows the steps of every creature who breathes her delicious breathe
she is the giver
she is the responder
from below
mother earth

by Tasara

The Faerie Realm

The RealmI asked to be shown the extent of the Faerie Realm. Not as how it is portrayed by artists around me or talked about in tales but in a way that would be meaningful to me.

Faerie. It IS the inbetween place, which is why the inbetween places are portals to this realm. It is the inbetween place between the physical and spirit, mortal and timelessness. The interplay, a tension of the inbetween, that magical line generates a super intense force of creativity. It actually birthed the faerie creatures in the first place, organic matter liking to create.

But it creates more. It creates physical-half-physical access points to the sacred. To the most rooted forces of the elements as expressed through the elementals, divine forces of their own. The elementals manifest as dryads, nymphs…the trees and flowers and streams themselves charged with a magical potency, all tended by the faerie creatures, some spawned from such divinity, some created as byproducts of human expression. Human virtues and foibles manifested in energetic creatures that behave on their own, driven by the vast power of creativity come from the crack between here and there.

Hence the faerie realm is not one of infinite wisdom and compassion but a playground of beauty and light intermingled with all expression and deeds capable in the middle realm.

For many, getting to know the faeries opens portals to the Gods and Goddesses, Angels, Power Animals and many other beings that hang out in realms beyond the Fey. There are Gods and Goddesses that are multidimensional, causing trouble as well as joy and there are others that are completely divine, only pure passages of light and compassion. We can choose to invoke the aspects of compassion and leave the rest.

I want to align with those that are divine. I want to shine in the light of my own blessed divinity, spilling over for others around me.

by Tasara

Kachina Starblower

Last night we built a little tipi out of the sticks we found lying in the yard. There were a whole lot of us, this gathering of hope and passion and seeking. We were all very excited. Finally, we sat really, really still and with only whispers, opened an invisible gate above us for the invitation.

Someone said, “Starblower.” and I opened myself up to find out who he was. This Starblower , he came and through me he blew a wind of stars. A wind of stars that blew and blew and blew forever from forever to forever. I gasped. Throughout my body, expanded, every molecule touched, the stars, so blessed, so familiar.

“Where have you been?!” I cried, as the little girl who remembered them, who had longed for them, so long. It was a homecoming. My body swayed back and back in the breeze. I floated, floated above my roots, swaying.

This went. On and on.. and on.

When the people stopped talking and went away there were three or four of us left. We sat in a circle around the candles, this campfire not made of fire but of blue peace. Deep blue peace, so homecoming and so blue and so deep that we wept, immobilized by its beauty, by the stillness, by the stars that were still blowing, blowing through us.

I went to bed full of stars and blowing and I woke up with them still streaming through me. If I close my eyes and draw forth the deep blue peace, the weeping begins all over again.

I know what attunement means, now. I know who I am. I am a gate to the stars.

by Tasara

Mask Making

The Blessings of AlgizWe do molds on our faces for mask making. This is how we do it. We lie, 4 of us, heads together, feet facing the 4 directions. Close our eyes and our partners lays plaster/clothe strips over our faces until there is nothing uncovered but nostril holes to breathe out of.

There is sage. There is chiming, a didj played around our bodies. There is a guided meditation, down to wooded places,..and high to forests above the sky.

The message we are told is beautiful, that we are offering ourselves up to create a template of our own faces. This template to be used to sculpt masks of the archetypes that we are called upon to – and that we choose to accept the call of – to craft a mask for. An archetype will be presented through our own faces. A mirror of ourselves, the sacred, our relationship to it and whatever the perceiver perceives. I am cold and I have to pee. Really bad.

Finally we arrive to the place where we are to meet ones willing to come be made…this place is dry for me. Spiderwoman has taken her seat weeks ago. So this is a little boring. But why? Aren’t there ANY others? But see…there is a little black spider crawling on the edges…

We are called back. There is drumming and singing. I am thinking ok…whatever… and then HE appears.

I’ve seen him before, glimpses of him. I don’t know where, perhaps in dreams, behind the layers in my shamanic journeys, definitely in the folds of magic at the festivals. It is “Myth Maker”. It is HE. He stands before me. I am once again, awestruck that he would come to me. Me. Me. He is wearing a leather mask with curves cut into it the remind me of the “Place where Myths are Made” under the tree in the deep deep lower world. This place I was taken to a month ago to be told that I too can partake in this energy. It is not only for “others”. I can come any time I like.

HE is full of the darkness of mystery. He radiates power of stalking, of love in a hidden way, of an awesome and formidable charge to make stories and bring them forth to the light. (this charge I do not fully realize until the next day). He touches me. For a moment he is inside me and then he is before me again. And then he disappears.

My body is shaking with emotion and a surge of energy.

It is time to come back. Remove the masks. We have been lying on the empty stage for about an hour so I wrinkle my face until the hardening plaster pulls off my face. I want to weep for no reason. I sit, mask in hand, eyes closed still and cry. A bit.

So. There are tears in the inside of my mask.

I am repelled away from the intensity into the clearing, remembering it being referred to as a sacred grove during meditation. I look up at the sky, the towering trees. I am pulled to a white block of granite and magnetized there for what seems an endless amount of time, as waves of energy rush and rush and rush through my body. Oh goodness, this was unexpected..not the sort of thing that happens in one, simple guided meditation.

I cannot move. I am entranced. I’ve been here too long. I cannot think of any place left to go, away from chatting…the stage has become a sacred space and no one is trying to talk to me so I can be there, while Hjeron finishes the last person, lying on it’s sacred floor, face down until I am so cold I am shivering.

I am at the fire pit, blanket wrapped around me while I stare and stare and stare and stare. This energy is not leaving me. I am into it and it is into me in similar patterns of sacred mushrooms and I do not want to let it go. It is not subsiding. So I sit and sit and stare. I am not sure what, how or when the patterns faded.

I know as I write this I could tap right back into it again. I don’t know how long this will be in me. I feel such terror. Terror that this dream, this charge, this making that I longed for so long to be a part of will not accept me when I open myself to it. I gently tell myself to take my own time, that a gift given such as this will not go away.

by Tasara