Thursday,February 19th, 2009
These are times that change is so thick in the air, that you can’t even breathe without feeling it alter your being and rock your core. Or perhaps I am just speaking for myself…
The other day I walked down to the little pond near our house with the dogs, listening to my ipod and trying to take it all in…and let it all go. Suddenly a recording of one of my “Divine Mother Sessions” came up on my shuffle and I was listening to myself speak. I was arrested with the power of leading myself into relaxation and peace…literally listening to myself. This is an overt example of what we do as Oracles. We hear the voices of the world, and of the other worlds, and yet are asked to find the voice of our own hearts, and listen to that voice more than any other. Even when the heart makes the sounds of water and we have to lean in so close to our own beings to comprehend its meaning, like the nymphs leaning over the edge of the spring to hear the voice of the goddess speak in its trickling, and babbling, and falling. Even when the voice of the heart seems absurd in the face of all else…or drowned out. Even when the voice of the heart hides in the cave of our deepest fears.
In order to do this, Oracles need to find places where they can hear themselves. Places outdoors…or tucked deeply inside layers of walls. Places that are quiet enough, or loud enough to drown out everything else with music, with beats in which one can find the beat of their own heart again. Places that nourish the soul so much that it has will and energy to speak again. If we don’t find out what we need, and then give enough of it to ourselves, we will feel as if we are wandering blindly and un-wholly, fragmented, un-centered…alone.
The other day I was washing beach glass in the shower. Lots, and lots, of beach glass and other ocean treasures. I wasn’t trying to wash the ocean off, just the dust they had gathered since then. I wanted to display them in a glass-top table that would allow their beauty to be seen. Leaning over this thick bed of things the ocean gave back…the weathered pottery, the porcelain cup handle once wrapped in the fingers of those drinking tea from its elegant shape, the rusted door hinge with a floral motif, the shells, the bottle necks…the lavender, teal, red, electric blue, forest green glass…rubbed smooth…I thought about what made them beautiful. I thought about their perfect brokenness…the radiant fragments no longer unwhole…the way that the ocean had tumbled it around and made it epic…eternal. We too are beautiful where we are broken, and worn. We too have become something that belongs to the ocean that destroyed us, and gave us a life we would never have imagined.
Most of us are being tumbled around a lot right now, and while life in general tends to do this to us, it gets more intense at certain times…take heart. The waves that consume what you know and love are also your soul’s greatest friend, liberator and lover. You will be delivered safely to a new form, and its beauty will be the joy and prize of your soul. Do what you can, what you must, to listen to yourself…to lean over the spring until its bubbling speaks to you…and you know.
Love, Jennifer
