I’ve begun resuming my daily Earth walking. I always felt it was important to have some time to connect to the land, even if only for a few moments a day. Sometimes that’s all I can manage these days. In the warmer months I share it with fellow walkers. These days as the wind grows colder, the land is all mine. It’s hard to say which I prefer; the warm breezes or the solitude.
My plan today was to go out into nature, where I can be heard, and pray to the Morrigan, who is still a stranger to me. My attempt at connecting to her, asking “Why the hell did you come to me?” (More on this in another post). I started out. A path through the wood called to me. I call it “Herne’s Pass” because inevitably whenever I walk it I feel His presence. Stag horns haunt the trees, hoofs can be heard upon the ground, and his breath is hot on my neck. It’s only in this place that I feel him, and I don’t know why it is in this place an no other.
By this time I’m in a mild trance state. All thoughts my original intent is gone. I make my way to my power spot, where days before I performed my ceremony. The snow is gone, as are the rose petals. I would think I imagined them, had I not scooped up a handful that currently resides in my pocket. I see a large bird approach. At first I thought it was a hawk, but then noticed the wing span was far too wide. A turkey vulture glides into view, hovering on the air currents as they like to do.
The wind blows hard off the lake, hard and cold. It is filled with power as it blows around me. I stand to absorb it for a moment. All of those guided meditations that speak of gentle winds and the blowing power of hurricanes cannot ever evoke the slightest hint of this feeling. This is the power of air. I allow myself to be filled.
Something catches my gaze in the sand, a branch of drift wood, all worn smooth by the waves and slightly crooked. I think to my own wand, an expensive professionally hand tumbled ebony wood that feel lifeless in my hands. Something about this simple branch seems so much more honest. There’s something about wood which has been tumbled by the waves for the gods knows how long. It’s filled with the numinous quality of this place, Earth, Sea, and Sky. I take it with me. It seems fitting to have a new wand for a new start.
I continue on my may totally immersed in the land around me, enjoying it to the fullest. to an old gnarled oak. I’ve been looking for a staff for the longest time, never finding anything that seems right. Here the winds have broken off a perfect tall branch. I see a vision of it, debarked and adorned with the stag tines and crows feather I’ve been saving all summer for some future unknown purpose. Yet, it doesn’t seem right to take it now. Tomorrow I will return with proper offerings, perhaps some thread and grain. I’ll bring my crane bag and hand saw to cut it to a proper size. For now I leave it to be guarded by the old tree itself.
I emerge from the walk and back to civilization. Wait, wasn’t I supposed to pray at some point?