It is December eve, 2013. This post has been brewing for many months, and may still not be ready for release. I’m not sure anyone is ever ready to encounter something like this. Obligatory disclaimer: I walk my own path. I don’t expect the Mystery to reveal itself to anyone else the way it has to me. I don’t expect the Mystery to reveal itself to me the way it has to anyone else. That’s the Mystery, after all.
I’m shifting again, I can feel it. Is shifting the right word when you’re really just homing in on something that’s been in the background for a long time? I feel like I’m sitting in the chair at the eye doctor… better like this? Or like this? Does this help? Does this? Dammit, none of them really get it all in one go. I don’t think it can be done. Maybe for some but not for me. I am too many. I have too many memories and they are not pleasant memories.
I started just after Equinox sorting through and trying to find the common factors in what I was seeing and hearing and feeling. I looked for the Truths that drive the stories we live and tell over and over and over- variations on a Theme. I saw Themes in the tracks of wolves, the cawing of crows, the scales of serpents and the fire of dragons. I saw themes in black and purple and red. I saw themes in blood, decay and rebirth. I saw themes in fire. When I went Out, some time after that, riding on the power of a song I saw more. I saw void and am, I saw roots and a crown of stars and the red beating heart within. Themes, Truths and we are all the same stories playing out again and again. Variations on a Theme.
We can’t see the whole thing at once- even when we return from vision we can’t hold it all for long. It’s too much for us, incarnate as we are. Our spirits can see but we’re limited by our flesh and bone anchors in probability. I wonder if that’s the whole reason we bother to incarnate- because we need the anchor point to sort out some stuff and we lack the necessary leverage otherwise. It’s a theory. Tongues of flame anchor the Everything in the Nothing. Blood anchors the spirit in the world. We dance like flame in the darkness of this world, universes unto ourselves lost in the void of our own ego.
When I return I seem only to have more questions. And I seem to have picked up another god. When did that happen? Oh wait… probably years ago, right? Right. The big reveal at the dramatic moment and I’m a sucker for good drama. Especially when I’m involved. Hah. Now where am I going to find room for you in all this?
I’m already here, he says. Ask them.
I ask the others, how do I make this work without offending any of you?
How could you offend us? We’re all the same Truth.
Truth is vast. It contains multitudes.
I stare, confused. Are they not all themselves?
Of course we are, Father tells me. I am the fire in your blood, destructive yet creative. Slayer, yet Provider.
Of course we are, Mother chides me. I am the fire in your blood, creative yet destructive. Love-giver, yet Dancer Upon Tombs.
Of course we are, Reaper tells me. I am the ashes when the fire dies, yet even I contain the embers of rebirth.
Don’t you see? the Trickster laughs. I am the fire that burns away the undergrowth so that the great trees’ seeds may sprout in clear soil.
Now do you see, soul-broken ancient one? Says the Fire in the Void. I am the Phoenix at the heart of all things. I burn. I die. I am again. You should remember. You were there. I burned within you and you burned and we were reborn in each other.
Truth is vast and contains multitudes. Stories tell themselves over and again. They are all true and they are all one Truth and one does not preclude the other. So why now? Why tell me this now?
Keep reading, the Trickster tells me.
Oh. Well then. I look and I see scales and teeth and fur and flame. I see rot and destruction and decay. I see Death. Where is the fire? I ask as the heat in my blood rebels at the Truth before it.
There is a fly. There are maggots squirming on the decaying carcasses of old worlds. Vultures hop ungainly on the ground as they are graceful in the air and the dragon feeds her children. All because there is Death. Because there is Death… there is Life.
See? He says with a tired smile. It’s on the other side. It just had to die first. Trust the Reaper, dragon-shard.
I can only stare. What… what did you call me?
What you are. What you’ve known for years that you are. Let go. Be the threshold and pass through to yourself. Burn. Die. Be.
I breathe, gulp… he tells the truth. I know what I’ve seen and what I remember. I know what I am. Broken. A shard to be re-forged. Some pieces are gone for good- at least one down a serpent’s mouth. A price paid for audacity. Some ran like wolves in the wind and when we found me again I was a toddler who suddenly learned to howl and whisper secrets with stones and wind and trees. Ask mom, she remembers. I will never be as I was. I will be made new.
I just have to die first.
He looks at me again. They are all looking at me. Father rests a strong hand on my shoulder and Mother rests both hands on his. He needs them more. Mother tells me I have a heart enough to hold Fire itself and to let it be. Father tells me I am his own and never to forget it. The Reaper says nothing, but eloquently.
Once again it is the Trickster’s words that reach into my heart. You’ll do, dragon-shard. Your courage, your compassion… you comfort me.
Then he and Father laugh together and the Universe shivers because Truth burns.