Rebirth of the Earth / The Burren and the Hare

The benefits of travelling in the off-season: you've got the whole place to yourself, and if there's magic to be had - it's yours.

We were driving through the Burren, south of Galway in the west of Ireland, the first day of the world, after visiting my Mom's grave in Spiddal on the last. We pulled over randomley, shocked and lured by the stark raw beauty of a hillside, and we got out and wandered.

Ireland welcomed us into a sacred landscape. There was a snippet of a poem on a brochure with a great map, which we mysteriously lost, which summed it up;.. "in the west, I find my soul.." or something like that. It is apparently un-google-able (and I know from experience that some of the poems I've quoted here are only available online in this blog, because people come to me by them, and so I assume there are lots of poems not yet online). A Quest, it is..

The rain and mist, raw rocks, fractured soul of Ireland: all one piece underneath. It is a landscape of limestone karst - fields of limestone, flat, and broken into rectangles and decorated by the hands of man with a web of one-stone-wide stone walls..

And - monuments. To what? Unknown. We saw a Hare close to a Dolmen (the Poulnabroun) and it hopped off towards a pit. The pit had apparently been a cave system, associated with the Dolmen, which collapsed in the past. We found a little hole that clearly was part of a still-existent cave (because you could feel air moving within).

Down the rabbit-hole.. into another world. When I looked it up - the Hare is associated with Dolmens in Druidry, as both are representative of rebirth.

The trip spelled rebirth for me - I didn't realize how much I was drowning - in worries and stresses and misaligned dreams. In the time away the sun rose on a new day, and the future is again sparkling with possibility and the faerie-dust of the unknown...

Thank you, Ireland.

the end is near

this blog has no clear subject matter or order.

This is the end
My only friend, the end

Driver, where you taken' us 

God speaks to each of us when he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.,

Rilke

I'm realizing that what I refer to as my 'wildness' - the need/desire to always be on the move, challenged, travelling - is a sort of biological drive-depression, and many of my close friends suffer/are blessed from it as well.

It is a kind of depression, and I remember this really sweet, hot, brilliant woman (I loved before) saying - "you and me are the same, but I take drugs for it, and you don't." It's true. Instead - I live in four provinces and 8 towns/cities in a five year period, have three careers in that time, and fall in love almost every day. 

"our heartbeat".

A friend told me about some dudes he knew years ago on the waterfront in Calgary, they said, broken-toothed and black-eyed - "we like to get drunk and fight." He said, "no shit." It's not that I think I'm going to save the world, it's that I like it. I like to fight. And this fight is the prettiest with the worst odds. So it seemed like a good way to spend my life. Life is fundamentally meaningless, but yet - I have not forgotten you.

"I don't give a fuck about hockey."

Considering: A - I am flying to Ireland on Friday, and B - the world is ending (and a new world of sharing/"communitarianism" is coming into being) only six days later (Dec. 21, 2012), I will quote the hot English chick from Snatch (at the bookey's) = "All. Bets. Are. Off."

Life requires a certain mercilessness, always. To throw out the old, or "going-to-be-old-any-day-now" and make room for the new. 

Every day, I'm dumpin' the bodies.


“The twenty-first of December 2012 is the end of selfishness, of division. The twenty-first of December has to be the end of Coca-Cola and the beginning of mocochinche (a local peach-flavored soft drink). “The planets will line up after 26,000 years. It is the end of capitalism and the beginning of communitarianism.”

Life on Earth (the cloud people)

In the autumn night
when there's no wind blowin'
I could hear the stars falling in the dark

... when confronted with a decision, or a fork in the road in life, sometimes I get tangled up in what's around me - a person, a place, a job. But sometimes - I fly up, way up, among the clouds, and look down on the world, and think - why am I here - what is the purpose of my life here on Earth? From that view, everything is clear..

Lately I've been encountering the most beautiful people, truly exceptional human beings, just so clear - like mountain streams in spring. I'm not talking physically beautiful (although often) and I'm not talking worldly-successful (although, again - often - at what they've chosen), but I'm talking CLEAR - people who seem more like spirits, just walking around in skins - they are kind, warm, open, patient, understanding, gracious - and 'of their own'. Humble.

Supposedly the things you notice in others - that make you angry, or attract you - are things in yourself that you are either denying exist, or are moving towards. I started noticing clarity in others a few years ago, and find I'm more and more drawn to it.

I was going to go to Mexico/Gautemala.. for the "end of the world" (not that I really think it's going to end, but I'm kinda hoping it might begin..) this is the trip I was contemplating in The Wanderer. It just started to feel wrong - there was an element of ego to it, and it was stressing me financially, and I've again had to re-contemplate my role in life and where I am, and why. So I dropped it, "let go."

I was just getting busy creating plans and accepting that I'd be home for the Holidays, and then something new came to fill the space - turns out I'll be in Ireland for the 'end of the world'. As I said to my brother, I "will go see Mom, and celebrate the turning of the ages where our ancestors did 2600 years ago." In fact, it's 2460 years. It is the end of an age and the beginning of another. No big deal - but a fucking awesome time to be alive. I feel like this is the most amazing period of flux and change and opportunity to shape the future - that we have seen in a long time..

We all have our chance to be part of it.. And I guess that's the sixth way I could define why I live the life I do - to be "part of it."

One of these cloud people reminded me lately that .. we are the total investment of all of our ancestors. Why would I go to Mexico, other than 'it's cool' - when I can be with my blood - a place where my blood runs in the ground? Where my ancestors fought, died, and made me (the fun way)?

I keep writing this blog because I assume there are other people out there going through the same shit I'm going through: reaching for the stars, lookin for a place to stand, taking a stand, hoping for a break, always - an eye on a distant star. Otherwise known as the Rainbow Warriors - one by one, through the mists - you are revealing yourselves. To those who haven't yet - I am looking for you.

Talk to the spirits
Talk to the wind

Ceremony 

Ceremony ..

.. of the Cloud People

the Wanderer

Rob's grandfather stormed in and grabbed the little boat out of my hands, "Jesus, mumble, boy, you're gonna cut your hands off.. "

It was the most words I had ever heard Mr. H string together. I'll admit to having been intimidated. I was probably seven years old. I had gone into his workshop to make myself a wooden boat, and had nailed two pieces of wood together - a flat one with a block on top. When he came in I was busily chopping a prow into the front of the flat piece with a hatchet.

I held firm despite my fear, and made it clear that I was going to make my own boat, thank you very much. I think he helped a bit, but I was being so stubborn and difficult he eventually left, with a grumble, to let me cut my hand off if I really wanted to.

I later took the boat to Long Pond with my brother and Mother, and floated it around with a little string tied to it.

Later that summer, at the Dingle one day, a little park on the edge of Halifax, we were at the beach, and I ran to the car to get my boat. Not sure when I named it "the Wanderer," and I think it was my brother's idea, but I know it had been christened by this point.

Aug (what I called my brother back then) floated some proper toy boat, and I floated the Wanderer around. On a string, at first. And then - not.

Mom warned me - "you're gonna lose your boat, Paddy." But I said it would be fine. The Dingle is on "the Arm", a small harbour on the other side of the Halifax peninsula. It opens into the North Atlantic. The tide went out. I could see my boat going, and I ran to get it, but ultimately all I could do was watch it float away. I'm sure Mom thought I'd get over it (and never dreamed I'd be writing a blog about it thirty-three years later).

Two years later, when I was eight or nine, I was walking on the other side of the Arm with my brother and Dad, at dusk one night, at the seashore property of one of Dad's customers (Mrs. Read?), and there, tangled in the seaweed and flotsam, was my boat. It was a little battered, but otherwise fine. The Wanderer.

I took it home, and it turned up now and again over the years, here and there. Each reappearance was meaningful to me, like no matter how far I strayed, I would always return 'home.'

I dreamed about it last night - that I found it again.

I started a comic/graphic novel years ago, in my teens, about a character called the Wanderer - sort of a less personal version of what this blog has become.

I'm preparing for a trip soon - to somewhere I've never been. Not a long one, but it always freaks me out a bit how I seem to come alive once travel is on the docket, like a dog that just loves the car - I don't really care where I'm going or for how long - as soon as someone says "road trip" - I say, "I'm ready." And everything in my life starts to align, like metal filings around an electro-magnet, which has just been turned on.

That character, I always draw him the same, has a particular jacket. I found it two weeks ago at a second hand store in Port A, for $4.50. Finding it kinda freaked me out a bit.

It's funny though, to have a back door. Hiking Sulphur Mountain, near Banff, in 2008 with an Ozzy pal, I said I always kept my passport on me, in case I decided to bail out. He stopped, in the snow, and looked back at me and said "dark."  Is it? I never felt that way. Every darkness has a seed of light, and light the seed of darkness - sometimes I can't tell them apart anymore.

All you've found is another back door
...
Take the heart of the travelling band
You'll never understand that
All they know ... is the yellow line

Dreaming about the Wanderer last night kinda freaked me out a bit - what part of myself am I finding or about to find?

For ancient and indigenous shamans, the chief cause of many of our complaints – fatigue, low energy, excessive vulnerability to illness and allergies – is soul loss. The understanding is that in any human life, we may lose part of our vital energy and identity through pain or grief, shame or abuse or wrenching life choices. The cure is to try to find that missing piece and bring it back and put it where it belongs. 
     For me, soul recovery is central to healing. In order to be whole and able to operate with the best and brightest parts of our beings, we may need to recover parts of ourselves that have gone missing. While we can look to a shamanic practitioner – if we can find a reliable and responsible one – to assist us through the operation known as soul retrieval, it may be safer and more empowering to learn the techniques that will enable us to be self-healers and shamans for our own family of selves.
    Our dreams offer us roads to soul recovery.
  ...
    Soul recovery, in the fullest sense, is not only about reclaiming our younger selves. It is about meeting and integrating all our personality aspects, including as much of the energy and insight of the larger or higher Self as we can manage to contain at this stage in our life journey.

I've mentioned before that I've always felt like, when it was time to travel, part of my soul would go wait by the road, for me to catch up with it. And until then - I was not whole. I've made him wait for years, at times. Or not.. ;) The character that I drew, with the jacket - is my image of that layer of my soul.

That force, the "Wanderer" energy, I both love and fear, because while I can call on it - it can also call on me, simply by walking out to the road. The "home" that I knew the Wanderer would always come back to, and this is what reassured me about its reappearances through my youth, and even into my twenties, although I couldn't have articulated it this way - is me.

Yeah I left with nothing
But the thought you'd be there too
Looking for you

Yeah I left with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you

I went wandering

secret 5

A friend texted me the other day and said she had decided to change her career path to do something more true to her dreams, and said - that I had inspired her to do that! I was floored.
I almost felt like, "fuck it, I can go live in the woods - I set out to make the world a better place, my work here is done."

It inspired me instead to make these notes at work (and yeah, I know - wasn't I done blogging? apparently not - now you can't shut me up..)

Follow your dreams at any cost
it is only the resolve to do so - at any cost, that it comes to life, 
like Frankenstein monster - our endeavors are lifeless lumps - until we breathe life into them
and it is the resolution,
"I will do this at any cost"
that is the breath of life

The Journey 
- all journey's 
         are one
  - the Journey to ourself.

Here, we find everything.

My brother has been my inspiration lately, and I know he knows exactly what I'm talking about.

And how did that text lead me to think of this? It is because it is that resolve, and only that, which has lead me to where I am. AND, like other things, events, actions, in my life - I don't know where it came from, it seems like something almost outside of myself. Again, I challenge "the Secret" rationale - that we can do anything we 'intention', or set our intention to.. Yes - I am here in life because I resolved to be so at any cost. 

But I could not have resolved any other.

I'll quote a previous entry:

"My effort here is to help you become one. That's why I don't teach any morality, any character. All that I can teach is meditation, so that you can hear your inner voice more clearly and follow it, whatsoever the cost.

Whatsoever the cost. Hm. But the benefit is being natural, being yourself, not being divided. Once we are not divided inside ourselves, I'm not sure if the Bhagwan follows it to this point or not - how can we be divided from others?"

I will add to that - how can we be divided from anything?

That resolution, which has seen me through many trials, fears, and doubts - doesn't feel like part of me, but like a mountain I stood upon, and it reminds me - there is no separation between ourselves and the Universe, the World around us. And, our 'selves,' and even the concept of our 'selves' is a paradox - utterly true (and worth reaching for), and a shameful illusion (to be released). 

The secret to the Secret is - the only intentions we can make come true - are one's the Universe has already set, and we set in tune with it, and one's we set, and the Universe sets in tune with us ;)

My work-time writing also gave me an insight into why I write, and still write, this blog,

- all journey's 
         are one
  - the Journey to ourself.

Here, we find everything.

Watch the sunrise
Say your goodbyes
Off we go
Some conversation
No contemplation
Hit the road

waking the divine forest

walking in the forest today with friends, we left our return too late, and ended up walking back in the twilight and near darkness.: my favourite mistake...

I ended up thinking - if I had choose only being in the forest at night, or day, which would I choose?

An eagle, settling in for sleep high in a spruce by the trail, screeched at us, and we stopped. My friends were confused, "what is that, an eagle?" I said (to it), "it's ok brother, have a good sleep." And he/she stopped, watched us silently, suspiciously, until we walked on in silence. 

All nature is one temple, the living aisles whereof
Murmur in a soft language, half strange, half understood;
Man wanders there as through a cabalistic wood,
Aware of eyes that watch him in the leaves above.

Like voices echoing in his senses from beyond
Life's watery source, and which into one voice unite,
Vast as the turning planet clothed in darkness and light,
So do all sounds and hues and fragrances correspond.

A friend did an astrology reading for me yesterday. She said I should make my life a fervent prayer. I felt like that's what I've been up to these last two years.. And to find balance in action, and my divine whore/vestal virgin (sacred sex), and - that my focus should be law/higher learning, and travel. No shit.. And - reminded me of the Chariot - my 'life path' - yoking the forces of darkness and light..

This forest is inside of us, me - wild, free, lawless-leaving-only-the-divine law. All is real and unknown.

Well, I dreamed of the Lofty Pines-
at least what I thought they were-
standing in the forest after nighttime,
swaying so cool and sure...

I find all that in nature, it is a divine prayer. I just find it so peaceful to be in the woods at night, so relaxing. I grabbed a little time alone with a pee break as an excuse. My prayer is to live, live, live - live what and who I am. To its completion.

Q: where does one begin the search for spiritual truth self-realization called enlightenment?
A: It is simple. Begin with who and what you are. All truth is found within.

For me - it began in the forest. Where it will probably one day end.

running

heart pounding

lit eyes sheltered

I am awake in this darkness

Sacred Life: all will be revealed...

A couple procedural items; 1 - I thought I was done this blog, or at least I wondered, 2 - I am definitely planning a new blog, or to go completely public with this one, at some point probably later this year, 3 - I guess I'm not done.

I printed some entries for a special friend to see her off on a journey, and the first printing goofed, so I kept it. It's been weird to re-read on paper some of the turning points, big and small, of my life of the last few years. 

One of the things I love about having a blog - it's a public commitment to who you are. In re-reading I've realized a few things, themes:

- Sailing! Yikes. It's come up in people I've spent time with, and all over my writing, I hadn't really noticed how prevalent it is.. I said in my very first entry "I can take a hint!" - can I? Why haven't I learned to sail yet? 

Oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails, across the sea of years

With no provision but an open face..

Another, and this has been a developing theme - is the sacredness of life. Our lives.  That life is essentially miraculous. The mundane is only an illusion. That's what all the coincidences have been about and the truth they've led me to. On the way back from a no-pipeline rally in Victoria on Monday we were listening to cbc radio, and this show came on about belving - making stag mating calls to attract deer.. and we all made fun of it. I woke up last night (Tuesday) around 4 or 5 am, not sure why, and then, right outside my window, loud and clear, a friggin deer - bbrr--rr-r--r--rrr!!, or however you spell that...

I'll continue an entry - Irish Faerie..
   - when I got to the ferry terminal in Dun Loaghaire (DunLeary) I was hungry, so I dropped my backpack in front of this older lady, asked her to watch it, and wandered off for some french fries before she could answer. When I got back she looked at me like I was the boldest person ever, and she scolded me for leaving my bag with someone I'd never met. I offered her some fries, and after we chatted for a few minutes she offered me a lift from the ferry terminal at Holyhead, in Wales, to a small town half way to London. My flight left from Gatwick the next evening. 

Despite my willingness to sleep outdoors, it was dark when we got to her town and she offered me her son's bedroom. He was a diplomat with the UK. She had proud pictures on the mantle, as she should have. I was glad for it because I was pretty tired from 'testing fate' all day..
She made me a nice breakfast, dropped me off at the highway, and I wish I could remember her name. I send my thanks regardless. I got a ride or two and got dropped off at a truck stop. I was making good time, but there was still some risk of missing my plane if things didn't go well, for instance - if I ended up somewhere with a lot of other people waiting for rides...

At the truck stop there were a bunch of punks hitching, they were in a couple groups of three or four. You couldn't walk or hitch-hike on the highway. They had a few dogs, and looked surly and unfriendly. Particularly at me: the competition. 

We Canucks do things differently.  It would be quite some time before they all cleared out, I realized. Instead of skulking away or pulling some hard line, I walked up to a group with an orange-haired dude, who looked 'leaderish', and asked how how the hitching was. They looked at me like I had three heads, they had never seen someone, it seemed, simply be friendly and upfront with them before..

I chatted for a minute about my trip and before they could rally their senses and re-raise the mask of aggression, I said, "well, you guys were here first, so good luck, I'm kinda hungry, so I'm gonna go sit on that hill and have a snack while I wait for you to get a ride.."

You see, it's a rule of hitch-hiking - you don't usurp someone else's spot. You go behind whoever's there first, or you wait somewhere until they get picked up. It's about order! ;)

I hadn't sat down five minutes when the orange haired dude came running over to me in his studded leather jacket and dock marten boots, and told me there was a guy going right where I was - to Gatwick. I thought, "wtf? I haven't even finished my rye bread and sardines.." The funniest part was, and the most reflective of something else, something.. sacred  - someone stopped for the mean tough punks, and they gifted the ride to me..

The guy was about my age, in an old beamer, and was going to pick up his girlfriend at the airport, so I thanked the punks and off I went - to my destination with time to spare. Why? Because I had a loose grip on life, I wasn't trying to control anything..

I ended my first entry with, and a new friend / fellow blogger reflected it back at me recently; "Let's not be afraid to be the best we have inside ourselves. And let's not hide it away."

I've always been sensitive about my being sensitive, and the fact that I wear my heart on my sleeve. It has not generally served me well in romance, and I've come to view it over the years as being pretty un-sexy. I've had girlfriends tell me, "girls don't like that." I can now safely say - I don't wanna go out with those girls.

I can see I'm still on a 'journey,' and another theme of this blog, and my life, has been 'letting go.' I've had lots of friends counsel me over the last few years, as I waded through relationship problems or plain singleness - to be more of a player. They didn't use that word, but you know - 'don't tell people how you feel, don't show your hand,' etc. And I think I wrestled with it, trying to be me, and at the same time - feeling like I was doing things wrong in some way, that I could 'improve.' I'm not. One of my first entries was partially titled, "I Am That." Well, I am not that. Not good at it, not interested in it.

40. A nice solid number. I feel pretty solid. I think the whole reason women found me un-sexy when I was like that was because I thought I was, I was insecure about it. I'm seeing myself in a whole new light. The woman in my life, in my future, will be one who says, "a guy who actually waits for someone, uninvited, just on principle and to be true to himself (and whatever potential is there)? wow, now that's sexy."

It's part of the sacredness of life, for me. I work a lot these days, and it's also been funny to see (in reading over those old entries) how much I partied and goofed off in those journey-times. These days I enjoy simpler pleasures. The waitee -  that doesn't even know I'm doing that, we just recently connected and never had a chance to discuss it..

Why? Life is sacred. If you want a certain life, you have to take the steps that can get you there. These two entries, this and Irish Faerie - describe the end of a month long hitch-hiking trip through Europe in 1994(?). I've written about it in detail because - every step I took, I took in faith, perfect faith - that it would all work out, somehow, as it was supposed to. 
And - I knew I'd be fine regardless. I've been applying that to other parts of life lately, to more of life, like I said in Return of the Errand Knight (travels in a luminous world), regarding my penchant for walking around in the dark, "if you just put your foot out, the ground'll show up eventually.." (paraphrased;) = Trust.

I know that the only way to get to the point I want romantically is to treat all matters of the heart as sacred, and, just like my ferry that was two and a half hours late, and magical rides to the airport, it will work out somehow - I don't need to know how. I'm waiting for someone I barely know (but am certainly interested in getting to know better), but more importantly, it is the act of waiting, which is in accord with my deepest sense of who I am - that will ultimately deliver whatever it is meant to deliver. And just like the question of whether I'd stay and live in Ireland, or come back to Canada - all will be revealed..

I've spent over two years now building my dynamic life of adventure and service, and maybe one day it'll be ready to share. In this time off blogging, and part of the reason I'm back, I realized I'm certainly not done travelling, and that I want a retreat too, however humble. Someplace that's mine to return to. And - I want someone to share it all with.

For now - I'm sitting on a grassy knoll eating some rye bread and sardines, waiting for the wheels of fate I've put in motion to come around..

I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been

To sit with elders of the gentle race, this world has seldom seen

They talk of days for which they sit and wait, all will be revealed...