eaglesnest

“Not the same kind of sky - still hoping I can get enough ‘left’ to shift my sight & experience the orbs. a very (too) clear sky compared to the fully fogged in one last week. They are off-kilter today and I am neither surprised, nor too concerned. ENOUGH conscious distraction — chanty time — A spider - upside down -

I right her, mark her location with a little stick in the sand & wonder if the crows would attempt to eat her.

no orbs, but arcs from the sky to the water, but not extending to the land.”

she is indeed a baby tarantula that I came across this morning at Moonlight Beach. after surfing, brother James helped me move her to the plants growing on the strata to protect her — though I know she’ll move back to the sand to hunt.

We made plans for a long drive & talk to go to the Indian Store. The talk is good and I hope he takes away somethings. Otherwise, I will have to utilize some reeds for his Zen study

He found the perfect bones to make some tools and I finally found a little dark carved wooden spider “charm” to honour the Grandmother Spider and keep her messages close to my ear.

I was just going thru the motions of the rest of the day as I was looking forward to the pagan wienie roast. Alas! The Universe decided to best I stay home and do some serious work — I began to edit MS #3 from the publisher I work for to pay the bills. They are something else I tell ya!! This writer . . . well . . . all of his characters . . . kinda hem and speak in . . . awe and . . . argh!!! AND he would love the pagan wienie roast as he firmly believes in WHICHs. Seriously, I thought I had seen all kinds but after these three — ONLY 3! I am amazed once again at how people’s brains work.

Doesn’t matter — these guys keep writing and I keep editing and I can keep this roof over our heads and food in our bellies.

My spin doc is pushing for me to divulge my whereabouts of the past month, plus, to my faithful readers (whom, in your great concern and dismay, have bombarded his e-mail box with untold “where has she gone” queries) — I’m just not sure how exciting it is for you to read that the sheik’s mirage didn’t have reliable WiFi.

Maybe you’d prefer my PR gal’s version that it’s very difficult to use a laptop and transmit from the middle of the Aegean Sea. My dog-walker & Reiki master both vote for the story of how I attained enlightenment in June. My intern , of course, would like me not to have so many hyperlinks for her to process. {She’s also not happy to know I have the backlog of blogs from the missing time ready to be typed, formatted & linked up.}

Really, the painfully simple truth is that moving and merging two households and working full time as a freelance writer/editor/juggler in order to provide for your children takes a lot of time and energy. AND that AT&T sucks royally and just getting my phone service and DSL up & running took an entire week that I will never get back. ….

I think I’d like to recall the past month as having taken place in my new townhouse devoid of the other inhabitants . 

The only important thing IS I am back.

I managed to fall back asleep after getting up early to go with my buds to Moonlight Beach & woke to realize I needed to be there in two minutes . Lucky me — they live literally a stone’s throw from my new home. I pulled on my grey yoga pants, grabbed a hoodie as it gets amight foggy and chill at the water’s edge .

Well, they were a little brighter and bushier tailed than I - no worries. I wasn’t even sure what I’d do — though I was sure as hell not getting in the Pacific or on the board .

Getting out of the truck, I realized I needed a pen and anything to write on. James produced some old bank statement, a pen and a telephone answering machine manual for a writing surface. Good to go.

“I see the tracks of the bipedal carbon based life forms I am supposed to be ‘connected to.’ They were here, earlier than this, which is early for me. I know it’s a late start to many. Other marking show me where a seagull retrieved something for breakfast out of the wet sands.

My shaman brother is paddling out - to ground, as I ‘instructed’ him, in the ocean. My Earth Mama sister completed her stretching and as the Golden Goddess she is, is running now along the fog shrouded shore neath the strata . I keep both in my view - my vision, my sight, my heart. They are mine, beyond family or friends - we are, we belong.

The ocean is warmer than I thought as I stand at the edge allowing my feet and ankles to be submerged. My “doc” said soak them in salt water

I chant, intone, count and begin my walking mantra. I greeted the Directions, rolled up my pants and am looking, watching the water for a message. “Do as I told James, ok- ground with the water.” I stood in the place of the North and see into the place of the South. They were many light beings - orbs and the lights here are like the ones I was surrounded by on Haida Gwaii .

Then, a bird, a pelican (the name is obstructed in my mind - I can not name him in this language, I want to call him things I do not know or understand) flies over my head and makes himself known and connects to pass something along.

There are shapes amidst the orbys and they are squiggly. They have purposeful direction - like marching in from the ocean to the land, while the little lights just bob about, fizzle and spiral about. Drawn to a section of submerged sand, I see the 3 sisters . They are washed out and an eagle forms and too is washed away.

Time is measured; we only have an allotment. That the message comes in the shifting sands just when beneath the water’s edge adds to that. Nothing is forever.

As my background is a strata - a visual reminder of how time moves & maybe leaves a record, but nothing more, when even that ‘record’ will not stand forever in some locations. To the strata I march, slowed only by a spiral shell and the sand dwellers. There is a grey squirrel ahead at my destination. Gathering my gifts I advance, The strata is worn smooth and covered by salt, tenuously preserving the exterior while plants with flowers cling and thrive upon it. Like my daisies of yore, like me.”