I seem to be a little reluctant to make the turn into spring. So here’s one last look at the winter of ’08. This is my sister Katherine, shoveling snow off the roof of her shed in Horsefly, BC. This picture was taken in March! That’s a lot of snow. That’s her dog, Sam, in the snow below.
I’m going to Arizona to meet with a gathering of wild folks who call themselves wilderness guides. The gathering is in the Chiricahua Mountains, in bear country! After the gathering I am staying to do a guides renewal fast. Four days and nights of fasting from human company, food, and built shelter. It feels like I have been going through the severance phase already, as I tied up all the loose ends here at home and prepared for the trip. Today after I dropped Donald off with friends who will be looking after him I noticed the sadness of leaving the familiar and comfortable behind. I missed my kitty!
Severance is an important step on the journey, because we have to let go of the familiar to leave an empty space for something new to emerge within us. But it is not a comfortable place to be in. Yet we must sever ourselves from our people to cross the threshold of the vision fast ceremony. We must leave the safety and comfort of the coccoon in order to grow, learn, and ultimately bring our gifts back to our people.
So I must sever from this blog until my return. Be well, dear readers, and may you blossom in the spring sunshine.
I just got back from Monkey Valley, where I had a chance to find out how the place fared for the winter. I found evidence of some horses (or so I thought) in the yard, and the corpse of a tiny shrew in the power room. Other than that, no signs of mayhem from the animal world. No mouse or rat invasions, and no insect invasions either. It must have been a quiet winter! I do feel sad about the poor little shrew, though.
There was the usual water damage due to freezing. In spite of my best precautions, which I have detailed elsewhere, there were a number of casualties to the plumbing system. After a day or two of seeming to operate correctly, the kitchen tap started spazzing out water in all directions. The upstairs toilet handle would not flush, though flushing by pulling on the mechanism inside the tank worked. One of the showers leaked ceaselessly on the first night I was there (with my Mom and sister Katherine), until, cursing, I attacked it with a screwdriver. For some reason loosening the plate around the handle caused the showerhead to stop dripping, even though I hadn’t got it open to fiddle with the workings of the thing. And, two small leaks in valves in the power room. I see another big plumbing bill in my near future. Aargh!
But this is life. As I’ve recently learned from two of my Diamond Approach teachers, these things happen to us no matter how realized we are. It is not my fault, not your fault. The only thing that changes on our journey of soul maturation is the way we experience the problems, and the way we handle them. I personally enjoy venting my frustration through swearing, but maybe there’s a different way… Such as sensing how I actually feel in my body, and expanding my awareness to know that I am a vast and regal being… Or whatever.
The good news is Monkey Valley made it through the winter, and the damages are actually pretty minor. Happy Spring!
I’ll tell you more about the “horses” next time.