Come, come whoever you are...Wanderer, Worshipper, Lover of Leaving. It doesn't matter, ours is not a caravan of despair. Even if you've broken your vows a thousand times, come yet again. ~ Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi ~
Showing posts with label Nature's Whispers Oracle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nature's Whispers Oracle. Show all posts
Saturday, June 20, 2015
A Single Feather
My Fiery Opalite Runes arrived along with Nature's Whispers oracle deck. The card I pulled after dispersing and shuffling the deck was 'Intuition'. It looked so at home amidst the runes, each taking up their place of beauty.
This card has many tiny, little animals and creatures on it particularly around the neck and shoulders of the figure. Looking more closely at it I'm reminded of Jesus's invitation to "Suffer the little children to come unto me". I have always loved this teaching for its themes of inclusion and expansion, its deeper alchemies of transformation. Another word for 'suffer' is 'allow', allow all the little children to come unto me, allow all the unpolished, immature, undeveloped parts of oneself a home, an embrace in the heart which accommodates all. Looking at this picture entitled 'Intuition' with that teaching in mind I'm struck by the suggestion to allow all the whims, the smallest, most seemingly insignificant feelings, the lowly and humble a place in the intuitive body...
I want to learn how to purr. Abandon myself,
have mistresses in maidenhair fern, own no
tomorrow nor yesterday; a blank, shimmering
space forward and back. I want to think with
my belly. I want to name all the stars animals
flowers birds rocks in order to forget them,
start over again. I want to wear the seasons,
harlequin, become ancient and etched by weather.
I want to be snow pulse, ruminating ungulate,
pebble at the bottom of the abyss, candle burning
darkness rather than flame. I want to peer at things
shameless, observe the unfastening, that stripping
of shape by dusk...Toward the mythic kingdom
of summer I want to make blind motion, using
my ribs as a raft, following the spiders as they
set sail on their tasseled shining silk. Sometimes
even a single feather's enough to fly.
Robert Maclean
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