Tuesday, February 12, 2013

A Journey Into A Rose

A journey into a rose. 

Standing shoulder to shoulder, our fingers entwined.  Sisters uniting.  Inhaling the aromas as ceremony begins.  Falling to our knees - a moment.  One by one as our bellies return to merge with the womb of our sacred Mother. 

The Men.  The Warriors.  The Fire Men.  Stand watch honoring the feminine as each returns to deep within inside the sacred womb.  A moment paused to honor the masculine.  To honor the men who stood watch.

The fire burning.  Mother Earth beneath.  The vapor air filled with lavender, sage and rose.  Swirling as inhales deeply, breathing new life - a rebirth.  Songs arising - a moment to call to Pachamama.  The fire roars on as an alchemical gestation takes many breaths, many beats, and returns each to merge as one seed.  The vapor rises - deeper and deeper within.  A release, a surrender.

The rains begin to fall.  A purification of the soul gifted beneath the skies.  A breath.  A heartbeat.   A double rainbow crosses to entwine the threads.  Embracing the Masculine.  Embracing the Feminine.  Honoring both.  Blessings all in the breath of the skies as all merged as one.

Once more the fire stoked to em blaze a remembrance.  A return to nurturing.  The rose with no thorns dancing across the flesh.  A scent.  A re-structuring to remember.  A weaving with color and vibrancy as merges into a single heartbeat with Pachamama.  Nothing and All.  Named and unnamed.  Daughter, Mother, Grandmother.

The fire heating as floral waters splay like dew drops from the air gifting breath.  A union contracting.  A birth.  Celebration and jubilation heard in the primal song.  A moment of ecstasy as the dew drops glistening hang in the vapor for inhalation.  The ancestors standing.  Each foot step washed, purified, honored, revered, and celebrated.

From the womb, with each beat, a new spark of life is birthed.  Another contraction, another foot emerges.  Songs lift.  Voices rise.  A push, another foot seen.

The skies clear filled with stars.  A breath.  A moment.  A twinkling moves across the inky black sky.  A moment of grace.

Remembering a birth, a breath, a heartbeat deep within the womb.  Remembering the rose without thorns.

Can you see it, the beautiful deep red closed rosebud.  Each petal curled slightly outward revealing tiny dew drops from the vapors of Mother Earth.  Slowly the rose petal begins to uncurl.  In awe the unfolding begins slowly – all in perfect time.  The velvety softness entrances all it touches upon.  The perfumed aroma heady and powerful caresses the nostrils, moment by moment the unfurling reveals an intoxicating perfume into the air.  The deep shade of crimson contrasting with the green hues of the leaves mesmerizing in beauty.  One can only marvel at the beauty of a rose.  Marvel at the journey. 
Will the center be revealed?  Will the inner petals fill an orgasmic need?  The inner petals guard the secret center which only serves to draw you further in.  Following the wafts of scent through the curled petals down a long tunnel as your essence becomes one with the essence of the rose with no thorns. For a moment you are at one with the world, with the universe, and with all of creation.

The swirling of life draws you deeper into the long tunnel of its stem, through the roots, and into the darkness of Mother Earth where all essence becomes one.  The discovery of your roots that extend far beyond the sun that beams down upon the rose. 

Slowly returning to where the dew drops from the vapors swirl, the radiating perfume of the rose, a new perception emerges as the eyes begin to ‘see’ the light.

Whenever we are gifted a journey, a vision, or a picture it is a deeply personal and humbling experience.  We translate the imagery, the whispers in the wind, and the symbols through our own experiences, our own translation tools.  For one it may mean to pause and see the beauty of life and yet for another it may be a link to the past. 

Often I am asked to give my insight on another’s encounter with a journey, vision, or picture; yet, what I wish to share is that you are your best translator of your own dreams, your own visions, and your own pictures. I urge you to seek your own answers.  Find your own meanings.  Learn your own translation.  It is after all your reality.