Peace:
And The Darkness Shall Be The Light

 


I Ching Hexagram 11. T’ai/Peace

The receptive earth over the creative heaven.
This hexagram belongs to the months of February and March.


“Heaven has placed itself beneath the earth, and so their powers unite in deep harmony.
Then peace and blessing descend upon all living things.”1


I open the I Ching to these simple, yet complex words in the midst of the devastating horrors of war and genocide that continue across the body of Gaia. I wonder about the inner workings of peace as the sky continues to darken throughout the late afternoon. The wind howls and hisses through the trees, and the power goes out.

Later, I wake to the sound of branches cracking through the forest surrounding me. The neighbor’s dog barks relentlessly just before thunder shakes the house. Lightening flashes like daylight through the opacity of the blackened wee hours. Heaven opens and a torrent of rain fills the atmosphere, replaced suddenly by silence as rain turns into snowflake softly floating in its return to earth. My dreams are wild and many. I feel the year of the Wood Dragon arriving.

Trees represent the element wood and the season spring. Dragons, in Chinese culture, embody the “electrically charged, dynamic, arousing force”2 which allows change to happen. Dragons are helping spirits and messengers who move between heaven and earth. I wonder what Wood Dragon can show me about peace.

The forces of heaven and earth are not opposed to one another, but complement one another.

The world of time is formed from the creative interplay of this timeless duality. Time and timelessness live seamlessly as one reality. Humanity has forgotten that we, too, can find ways to engage with duality and paradox that are creative and complementary rather than divisive and destructive. We have forgotten that heaven and earth are also within, and how to harmonize amidst the constant changes they each bring. Continue reading “Peace: And The Darkness Shall Be The Light”

 

 

Awake Inside the Dreaming Earth:

Meetings With the Ancestors

 

I sit at my altar this cold, dark morning illumined by a single candle burning. My heart is overflowing with questions too large for me to hold alone. I place a stick of palo santo (holy wood), over the candle flame and watch as smoke moves like a dragon through the air, forming a bridge between worlds.

With closed eyes, images begin to emerge through my inner world from the dreaming earth.

There is a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the soul door. I hear a knock, and although I am not sleeping, I wake inside a dream. Standing at the edge of a wasteland, my gaze follows the hum of a new, barely visible world emerging inside this moment. I want to act, to move toward it, but my vision is still unclear. As I stand in the discomfort between what I want and what is needed, I remember that such thresholds are crossed through enduring the  Great Aloneness of waiting.

Bald eagle emerges so close I can see her eyes. I am alone, yet not alone. Awe and gratitude melts the icy waters of uncertainty, and something begins to flow.

Within this lucid dream, I recognize a reality pulling me toward itself like the answer to a prayer. Not just my prayer, but the Prayer of All Prayers. Something tells me that in my very standing here at the threshold between life and death, my presence is the offering, and that that is enough. As I offer myself to the altar of the full, mad, mess of the human condition, the ancient ones sing to life a wild, holy beauty wrapped in knotted flames so that the heart stays warm and the soul alive.

Although I want to do something, anything, to get out of this discomfort, my bones tell me that if I move too quickly some essential part of me will be left behind. Although this offers little comfort, something true at the center of my wholeness settles into itself and it is clear that no one part of me wants to exist without the rest. And so it is.

And then I hear the future ancestors calling, whispering, singing me forward. They surround me just on the other side of this moment, holding me in ritual space. Immense love and encouragement seeps through the membrane between self and other, filling me with a wild grace and loving me into being just a little more, and a little more. I feel their deep concern but also their enduring wisdom and strength. They help me to stay here in the long dark for as long as it’s necessary until I know just what to do next. Continue reading “Awake Inside the Dreaming Earth: Meetings With the Ancestors”

 

 

The Sacred Medicine of Returning:
A Solstice Blessing

 

In the times when darkness eats the light, may you find in your heart a place of welcome and spaciousness for the confusion, sadness, fear and uncertainty that can swallow you whole. When it seems that there is no clear path in sight, may you become still and quiet enough inside the earth of your body for the soul door to open, carrying medicine from the wild forth to nourish and enliven that which has been oppressed, repressed, unacknowledged, hidden.

May grace hold you with tenderness until it feels okay enough to surrender to the slow time of deep gestation in the womb of the dark mother, where each of us is remade from the seeds of innocence around which our lives have unfolded since the beginning of time. Although you may feel you have lost it, know that innocence (what truly belongs to us) is indestructible, that it has only been buried under the rubble of un-metabolized betrayals, losses, failures, delusions—that with deliberate, steady tending it can be reclaimed.

The pain of dismemberment that you have endured is a sacred path of beauty carrying the medicine of maturation, deepening and the growing of strong roots and broad wings. May the eye of clarity discern between what is life giving and life taking, releasing all that is false to reveal the bare truth hidden inside your most secret longing.

May wonder, beauty and awe warm your heart fire enough to inspire the courage to become medicine, a blessing, an ancestor who carries the light of hard-earned wisdom forward to be shared.

When the time is ripe, in your own time and in your own way, may heaven’s light rise from your earthen body to release the wholeness that you have always been, like a flower from the bud, butterfly from the cocoon, a crescent moon from the darkest night.

 

Light upon light
darkest of dark
the longest hour
a dying lark.

Suspended sky
rigid earth
the shortest day
a painful birth.

Melting sun
lava core
lighting the way
I step through a door.

Liquid green
forest lush
winged peace
pregnant hush.

Between two worlds
separate and blended
seeing with closed eyes
wounds being mended.

Moon in her fullness
doves weaving sun’s rays
that lead through the darkness
and return longer days.

Poem by Monique Gaboury, Solstice 1997 Continue reading “The Sacred Medicine of Returning: A Solstice Blessing”

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