The Seventh Direction

PART TWO: Inner Space. Episode 26

                               [Wyl narrates —A.A.]

I got up, assumed the pace, and opened myself to the moment. Being in the now—this moment, here—was clearly my first order of the day. Facing the Sun, I gave silent thanks, welcomed the day, and turned my gaze back to camp.

The firepit's few remaining coals pictured perfect on my mind for a fish bake. 'Fish for breakfast!' I could almost see and smell it cooking there, and was instantly reminded of a time, a while ago, late at night, on a journey home—I think so—as I sat in the back seat, staring out my window. Ma and Pa were up front. Something strikingly similar to that picture-in-mind foretelling 'sure fish baking on coals!' had caught my eye through the old cedar-rail farm-fence following the highway. I had zoomed in on it: a wily washed-out fox, trotting through the snow, plotting his next caper, I'd assumed. It was dark and cloudy that night, and I could have easily missed it . . . but for a long moment the clouds opened up, moonlight lit the field, and the scene came alive (beyond the norm, beyond the mundane), for I was suddenly with the fox, and felt his spirit, and his sly movement, and his conniving intention, probably some poor farmer's chicken coop. I'd scarcely time to ponder that vision (—late that night), when a much gentler spirit was felt, seconds later, as we drove past an old, gnarly tree with limbs hanging log and low over the fence. Two deer stood undetected, beneath. But I saw them; and just like with wily fox, I'd felt a part of me was with them, a part of their gentle nature. One jumped over the fence. The other stayed put. I had turned to look out the back window to see if the other would follow, but we were rounding a curve. Hmm . . .

Many times I had seen the animals going about their way. But not until now did I realize how meaningful (how powerful) this experience from memory was. I'm not sure how, but our spirits had touched. A living connection had been made. A powerful vibration as I lived and relived that short stretch of highway had been felt, and it had come through gently. Spirit (how cool is that?), both then AND now, had brought an enlightening experience before me gently, not through chaos, pain, or fear, as is sometimes necessary.

Still: crossing paths with the animals isn't always meaningful beyond sharing our Mother Earth. But those two old highway scenes, and the vibration about the remnant campfire NOW (beyond the norm, beyond the mundane), cut deeply into me at this time, and I knew Nature was trying to tell me something. Great Spirit, in one of its many ways, was trying to get through to me. In the moment.

(Time to go fishin'. I headed on down the path to the lake.)

Fashioning a fishin'-rod with the fixin's I had—I'd found a strong green branch for a pole. Hands at work, tying off line, bending a safety-pin, anticipating a worm or any other sumptuous wiggly little thing that might offer itself up, I wondered if a high lake like this one, spring fed, had any fish at all? Something distant from Dreams of the Night responded to my wonderment. I went with it: Something Native? Aboriginal? Can't really say. But it sparkled familiar in mind's eye. So familiar! So I rushed on in, to a tunneling crystallizing-in-formation (there in mind's-eye) . . . circling, forming . . . a halo Dreamcatcher with stars surrounding; and beyond and behind, peeking through webs, a white force forming . . . now spinning, gathering . . . colorful . . . now growing darker and moving fast. A black-red Shield it was—a blood-black red, coming through webs, fast to the forefront, fasssst devouring me . . . an insane sense of protection! Then out the other side I fell, back into the moment. The image came and withdrew quickly, but I held it invisibly within my mind as my hands worked reflexively (dried-up, crispy old worm!), baiting the hook, pricking my finger. (—Ouch!) And I was well-aware that these were symbols both, the Dreamcatcher and the Shield, and I knew also that their use was for connection to and protection from the Otherworld . . . to and from the Self as well. So while I waited patiently for any follow-up messages (good news, I hope. Surely I'm due for some!), a review came to mind of the last few moments.