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Forest Spirit and the Sacred Space My eyes were closed, breathing in deeply, listening to the birds, frogs, crickets and soothed by the gentle song of the breeze rushing through the lofty upper branches of the canopy, swaying the tops of the great gentle giants and smelling the sweet snap of cedar. I could see a random bird fly by and the clouds passing by overhead, over the tops of the gigantic trees. After such a long period of hyper anxious tension in the body, when you catch a moment of pure peace, the body is still tense while the mind is utterly raptured with peaceful stimulus that it just latches on until the body follows, sometimes trembling at the decrease in adreniline as it begins to relax. Now that I had acknowledged and declared the depth of my bitter anger, rage and the flesh ripping pain of grief, I felt drained and emptied of something that had poisoned me, driving my actions and reactions, attitudes, beliefs, fueling the paralyzing cycle of anxiety itself and burying my very vitality and purpose in an ever-simmering pot of sick, toxic soup. And it was a type of poison. The longer it simmered the blacker and more concentrated the toxins got. I stood thinking to myself “what next, what. next?” I wasn’t ready to move on to the village yet and needed to take a break to gather my head and let my internal compass settle and stop spinning to see where the direction of my true north really lay. Even though I had identified my life’s purpose with Choose Wiseley and acknowledged my worthiness and capacity to give and receive love with Birdie, I needed to find my true North, ‘terra firma’ after the unsteady fluctuations of ‘aqua alta’ in my life. I inhaled deeply, feeling the steady gusts of breeze get stronger, now catching the faintest scent of what I thought was wood smoke and even the distant call of the ocean. Wood smoke? Ocean? Just how far off the path to Himmel Dorf did I wander? The winds of change were now starting to blow, and it wasn’t a suggestion, it was a forceful push. New chapters often feel terrifying because nothing has yet been written, no goals or exciting plans set and there is genuine fear in the unknown. The old worn-out, broken-down and useless structure in our lives has been torn down, and a newer and stronger one is being built in its place. Then I felt something soft brush against my leg. Unexpected and a bit startled, I looked down and saw it was a cat, one of my beloved cats and I recognized her immediately. My darling Lil’ “Lilly?” “Lil’ Cat?” She walked in figure eights circling my ankles, rubbing herself closely against my legs, rubbing her face and head on my feet to mark me as hers and disperse her scent, purring loudly. She then sat at my feet and let out a most delicate, clipped “Yeow Yeow” looking up at me with her beautiful yellow-green eyes. She had the longest, wispiest white eyebrows that curled and impressive long, silky whiskers, her regal head surrounded by the bushiest mane around her neck looking like she wore a glamorous boa. I remember her fur always smelled like clean eggshells. My so, so silky, soft and very bushy, sweet calico girl. She sat on the pine needled path with her very floofy tail curled elegantly around her front paws. She buzzed with an audible purr. “Lil, what are you doing here?” She stared at me purring loudly then letting out another delicate “yeow” batting her beautiful eyes at me dreamily. Lil’ did not speak of course, but I heard her in my head. “I saw you and wanted to come greet you!” “Oh, Lil’ I said, “I have missed you!” She tumbled and rolled onto the ground rubbing her back and exposing her fluffy, snow white underbelly. My dear, dear sweet thing! “I’ve been pretty lost lately, Lil’.” She blinked at me, “I know...I was there when this all this mess started, and I can see! But you’ve made it back this far, haven’t you? And I had to come and help keep pushing you on? Don’t get discouraged now!” “Oh Lil’ I’m not discouraged. After purging all that anger, bitterness and grief, I’m feeling very empty, and pretty spent. “Well”, said Lil’, this is where we start filling you up with hope and a renewed sense of direction.” This part of your visit, your journey, is about finding your sacred space. Everyone has one, everyone needs one. Many don’t even know it exists. The space you can always go home to when you are unsure, to renew or to disengage. You are very vulnerable to falling back into the abyss from which you just crawled out of. I was sent to lead you to where yours exists so you’ll know where to find it anytime you need it. Over time you’ll come to recognize it as the recreation of the warmth and comfort of the very womb from which you came, when you were safe in a dim and secure space. Lil’s thoughts made me pause... She was right. No one would believe me if I told them I have a memory of being in the womb. Arms and legs crossed over one another in the fetal position bundled up snuggly in the safety and security of my very own amniotic sac, bobbing around in the warmth of its fluid and listening to the steady drum of my mother's heart. I remember the briefest pause of that memory. I distinctly remember being in this warm, dark space and being able to see what looked like a light shining in through thick dark red curtains. A light being shined in from the outside. It was a very brief memory from before I was born, and I can still remember it. There was a great power that washed over me contemplating this memory and it was tender and sweet. And it soothed a tenderness toward my siblings who also came from the same place. A compassion and tenderness that had gotten lost in all the fallout of life and death and now preciously rediscovered. The realization that compassion can survive and restore as well as foregiveness. Lil’ continued, “It’s the core temple of your very being that is always safe, your one source of truth, to recalibrate your moral compass and the very fountain and altar of your spiritual center, so critical to your well-being. There lies the very voice of the oracle to your soul and it is a gift. It is there whenever you need it and it will always point you in the right direction. A heavier breeze kicked up rattling the very tops of the Giant Redwoods and the inaudible, indiscernible whispers returned. Lil’ looked up suddenly, staring carefully into the thick canopy overhead. I was wondering what she was looking at. Perhaps she had spotted a squirrel or a bird. I heard a very definite crack coming from the upper canopy like a branch breaking in the rattle of the wind sending down a spiraling shower of pinecone needles and seeds. It’s getting cold, I thought and looked at Lil’. She said, “We should get going, but I know a place we can go.” Then she suddenly turned tossing her sweet head and made a playful leap, making 3 hops on her back legs, letting out a delicate “ee-ow” and started padding her way up the path, the breeze blew at her fur and her periscope-like tail flitted back and forth at its very tip. Her sweet silliness made me laugh. She turned to look at me at the top of trail as if to say, “Well, come on.” And I followed. Up and out of the amphitheater like space where the large pond laid, I followed Lil’ over the crest of the incline and out of the bowl like area. The trees and ferns were now very thick. We pass grottos of purple and lavender colored digitalis well over 6ft. tall, also known as Foxglove, there was also the three petaled trillium and the curious Jack-in-the-Pulpit dotted in an around mossy fallen logs. I could now see pinecone seed and needles stuck to the back of Lil’s bushy pantaloon like legs and butt, as she padded along the path. A memory had drifted back that we kids used to play in the woods for hours, playing imaginary games and watching the jelly like clusters of frog eggs develop into tadpoles. We were fascinated to see the tadpoles develop limbs and legs, swimming freely through the still and quiet ponds in the back woods close to our house. I remember laying in my bed at night in the old family home with the window open and listening to the utter cacaphony of the toads, frogs and crickets at night from a near by pond. It was astonishing how loud but soothing they were and we had this evening performance night after night in the Spring and Summer. I remember going with my father when he would walk the dog for the last time in the evening and we would pass the large pond where this great performance went on. He would pause and light a cigar as the dog would browse the underbrush at the side of the road. I could see the tip of the cigar glow in the evening dim, and a cloud of cigar smoke would disperse into the air and engulf my face breathing in its sweet, earthy, leathery aroma and I loved it. The cigar would perfume the path behind my father leaving a lingering miasma trail in the air. To this day I love cigar smoke and it evokes the comforting memory of those evening walks with my father and the dog. It was another priceless hierloom stored in my newly constructed spirit house. Lil’ was always very intrepid, often seeking me out in the garden of the old family home. She would watch me “budling” around in the herbs and vegetables and sniff the leaves of the tomato plants only to roll in the dirt for a sunbath, then lounging luxuriously like a poolside starlet (Yes, she’s that fabulous!). I would later see her snoozing in the cool of the shade under the leaves of a massive fern my mother had planted decades earlier.