cliodhna’s wave

White fox is a character that has been around for a while. I am not sure where she came from except she jumped in front of me once in a meditation and cocked her shiny black eyes in my direction and I have been kinda hooked ever since. She takes on many forms.

I suppose she could be to do with camoflage. The artic fox changing its coat in the winter to blend with the snow so maybe she is to do with the other side of me. The one who is still hiding in the snow.

white fox dances while I look on

White fox is the mysterious dancer, slightly out of reach and almost not there. I watch as I walk my path in life. White Fox doesn’t care who sees or not. She is dancing.

She dances again while it rains. She puts on her special dress for the rain and enjoys the water

i am listening to white fox while she explains the art of camoflage

Camouflage. Hiding. In the snow. Good or bad? not sure. To be able to camouflage can be a useful skill but I guess needs to be used in a way of power and not of fear.

Maybe I will ask her in a dream. Or maybe the lesson is to learn the opposite. To not hide, to show myself standing out against the snow. To not wear the white robe in winter and the red one in summer. Who knows, I guess I will find out some day.

x

Happy christmas day! eat too much, lie around, cheat at pictionary, watch the bad old timer movie, shuffle through wrapping paper and collapsed children worn down from excitement and uncle paul winding them up with the nerf guns, probably one or two sent to their room in tears for a little time out and a calm down.

My family has only one still not even a year old to contend with, we are quite boring on christmas day, we lie around and read or pick endlessly at the food. This year with pauls family I have entered the kids zone again. There seem to be endless children of all ages.

Ok so now make a wish…. this is christmas present to anyone reading this post (and it doesn’t have to be christmas day you are reading it either). Get piece of paper, write your wish down and then roll it up real small and burn it.

two guidelines to follow

happy language, no negative words whatsoever, so no I don’t want this (Fear, poverty, anger, addiction, etc) anymore, have to phrase it in a positive way.

don’t let your mind tell you whatever you are wishing for is impossible, make the wish, what ever your heart desires, and then let the universe worry about how to get it to you.

happy wishing!  x cliodhna

the two pictures are from a while ago from a story called ‘Crow Makes a Wish’ Crow inserts a wish between sea and sky. A wish for companionship, an equal, his opposite. The second one is when blue baby arrives on the sea shore. It has a memory of wings and rain and salt water.

First came the in-breath, the gasp from nothingness, the awakening the awareness of being. Nothing still was, just pure awareness and stillness, waiting for the impulse to move.

Then came first pondering; A simple ?. No words as yet just pure question, a wondering of the awareness.

Next came second pondering, an awareness of ‘self’ as something different to ‘other’. In the vastness and wideness of the beginning of the world ‘self’ looked round and thought ‘I’ and ‘you’

The vastness and wideness of the beginning of the world did not say anything back, did not look back, just was, in its awareness there was no difference between ‘I’ and ‘you’

The self began to name things; self needed some landmarks to make the vastness smaller and easier to live in. Tree (big green fluffy), grass (green soft), mother (love),

The world began to turn and the stars began to move and the self was frightened. Self asked the world “Why are you so big and all? And do not pay me any attention?”

The world did not answer.

Self asked again “Why do you not do what I say?”

The world did not answer

“You do not love me” said Self sadly

Then he heard a voice inside him “You are loved little self, you exist because you are loved, there is no difference between you and me, we are, look around you at the vastness and wideness of the beginning of the world and stop putting names on things to make it seem smaller”

“Who is speaking” cried Self

“I/You are speaking” replied the voice and suddenly Self understood, the world had begun and everything, self included, was part of it. Everything was on the journey and self was there to witness and be a traveler on the voyage. Self smiled.

The stars twinkled, “Hello stars”

The rain started to fall from the clouds “Hello clouds, hello rain”

Self looked in a puddle at the reflection “Hello Self”

Here I sit, 8 in the morning, in between making cups of tea, calling my dogs back, thinking about breakfast, yoga, should I take the dogs for a walk now, my English lesson later on. I write and look for the inspiration to take me. Wondering also about the things I have learnt I don’t want to share yet and reckoning that’s exactly where this stop in inspiration is coming from. I am trying to edit what I say.

Ok, let’s just get it over with. We are all part of one big life. We are all little reflections of it and because we are part of it each one of us has our own connection to it and also, we are all connected to each other and to the earth, in fact we make up the whole thing. Everything you can see around you is part of this life and what holds us together is intent. Intent is life.

That wasn’t so hard. I have been in resistance since I did this last journey. I don’t know why. Alongside the resistance is a surer and firmer knowledge of my place here and what I do here. I guess the resistance will just give up and go away soon. It’s like my dogs in the morning when they want out. The little one starts scratching the door around 7 am; she is a good, if slightly annoying alarm clock. The point is that the first few times she did that I got up and let her out. Now, it is in her head that door scratching=out and it is the same with limited patterns. The mind uses them as an escape route and it takes an effort to break them. I know this resistance all my life. It comes from childhood, from resistance to the catholic church and all its control, resistance to my parents trying to teach me things I didn’t want to learn. Resistance to school and why did I have to be there. I never opening rebelled though; I became the master at passive resistance and that is exactly what my mind is trying to do to me now, even though I don’t want it anymore.

So I am part of everything I see around me and my resistance is part of me. I have to just accept it and it will fade out slowly, like a scratched record playing an old tune I don’t listen to anymore. I am not going to wind up the gramophone anymore.

I remember when I first started doing the Toltec work my first big realization was that there was not going to be a Knight in shining armour who would ride in on his white horse and sweep me up to look after me forever more and love me and I would be happy… hey presto!

Man, I cried for about half a year over that one. The other side of that realization of course was the second one that came hot on the heels of the first. The fact that I was terrified of actually meeting said Knight in shining armour. In life, I had always run away from the guys I really liked. I am sure at least one or two of them thought I didn’t like them at all. Pride, ego, expectations, most of all fear that they would find out that I was not the cool, ultra-hip, rock and roll chick I portrayed on the surface. I was in hiding and had locked the door and hidden the key.

Those fairy stories, I understand them now, about the woman hiding her heart somewhere and then forgetting where she had put it. In the fairy stories there is generally a knight in shining armour wandering around with the key but in life I lost my heart and it was only I had the key. Actually now that I think about it, most of these women are old wise crones so maybe what I really lost was the connection to my own wisdom and power.

I think we women do that a lot. We give away our power to be looked after. We exchange wisdom for security and we believe the mind (man) when it (he) says we need it to look after ourselves. Of course I am not blaming men here, they will not learn to face their fears as long as we are behind them being small and keeping them happy by making ourselves powerless. We both need to change and grow and it needs to come from men and women but imagine the world if all the women suddenly stood up at the same time and stopped living in fear? We are the shapers and holders of society, we are the ones who hold the traditions and make sure they are passed on. I know men do too but really the way I see it we women hold the true power in this matter.

So, I accepted, slowly, that I can look after myself and still find myself sometimes getting annoyed with Paul that he wasn’t taking care of me how I thought he should. It is a struggle. I remember that summer of love (hard unconditional love), when I was going through that sense of loss and anger that I was not going to be rescued, looking around and seeing just how society is absolutely saturated with that idea of love, the old dream, you love me and I love you and we will look after each other because we are terrified of being alone. I will be who you want and you be who I want and we will be happy. Television, advertisements, magazines, books, songs, chat shows, news, celebrity gossip and of course looking at everyone around me searching, searching, searching, for that one person to make them happy.

I was angry because I felt that I had been abandoned. By letting go this illusion I really wasn’t going to find anyone. I felt angry because of all those years and energy invested into this dream, being the good girl, following the rules, doing what I was supposed to do and now it was a big lie. I felt loss because I was saying goodbye to an illusion that was comfortable like a pair of old shoes and now I was barefoot and facing who knows what.

But, it was only by saying goodbye to this old dream that I could move on and meet someone I could have a real relationship with. Someone I loved and who loved me and with whom I could face myself and learn about myself through being in a relationship.

Love is such a misunderstood word I reckon.

Old Dream

I love you so because you make me feel happy and now if I lose you I will feel pain so I am never going to let you go and watch every move you make to keep you with me.

I love ice cream because it makes me feel ok about myself and lets me hide in my addictions instead of facing myself.

I love you because you give me the attention I need and look after me.

I love you so much if you leave me I will die.

I need you because I love you.

I love you and you love me so I am going to become who you want me to be so you will continue loving me.

If you really loved me you wouldn’t do that. If you really loved me you would change.

I love my country so I am going to hate everyone else who is different.

I love god so I am going to fear everyone who doesn’t.

I love coffee so I am going to continue drinking it even though it’s not good for me and I can’t sleep when I drink it. I need it to feel good.

I will love you if you agree with me.

I love my children and because I love them I want them to be how I tell them to be.

New Dream

I love myself so much I am not afraid to be who I really am and create my life from happiness and love.

I love you but I love myself and so I will not live in your fears. They are your fears to face and I will support you facing them but I will not change myself to make your fears happy.

I am in a relationship because it makes me happy, not because I need a man in my life to look after me.

I love you just the way you are and I let go of trying to control and change you to my ideas of how you should be.

I love my children and I trust that they are growing and learning exactly as they should be from their own path and lessons. I am here to hold and nurture them until they are ready to do that for themselves.

I love my family but I give myself the space I need for myself to be happy and fulfilled.

I love my country but we are all together on this earth creating this dream of life and I accept all life as sacred.

I love myself so I give myself food that nurtures and is good for my body. I face my inner insecurities and I don´t bury them under addictions.

Fear is a shapeshifter, it has no concept of size or occasion and does not learn from new examples, once is enough and the fear has understood. Thereafter the fear always has the original example in mind and when a new situation comes up that is different to the first but maybe has some common element the fear changes shape to suit the occasion.

My dog fell into water when he was little, it terrified him and I had to find where he was hiding after he ran for his life when he reached the shore and comfort him until he stopped shaking and crying. Puppies are such babies, pure emotional response to their surroundings and they respond like babies or young children. Anyway since then Cubo (who by the way is now a huge heavy marshmallow of a Rottweiler) is afraid of water. Doesn’t matter what shape or form, a puddle, a small stream, a flow of water across the road, anything except his drinking water in his bucket.

It took lots and lots of visits to the nearby stream until he was relaxed enough to start playing in it and even then only up to his ankles. Lots of walks in the countryside and dragging him across streams to keep going and even now he stops and whines and looks desperately for some other way across.

We all have common sense in place, basic survival instinct, don’t stick your hand in fire it will hurt or don’t eat that plant over there you will die, but the fear in us takes it all one step further. It becomes like a guard dog who won’t let you out of your own house because you might get run over (ever see the movie I Robot?) it parades as for your own good but really would prefer if you climbed into a box and threw away the key.

Fear has no sense of size. A little fear is the same as a big fear, open the gate just a little and it all comes rushing out. A fear of death becomes a fear of dogs, spiders, water, losing our partner, whatever is our own personal fear, and it takes a hundred or a thousand examples of something is ok to erase the original agreement of fear.

The interesting thing also, watching my two dogs is that the younger one is also learning to be afraid of water. She learns from Cubo and when he won’t go near the water she won’t either.

So I ask myself how many of my fears have been passed directly to me by my parents or peers without me even assessing them or deciding whether I want them or not and I ask myself what am I afraid of that does not serve me anymore? What agreements made long ago now hold me back from being who I am?

There is a part of me that…

The is a part of me that is my two dogs searching and snuffling and getting excited about the fresh donkey droppings

There is a part of me that is the men going down to the mine to extract minerals

There is a part of me that is the truck, carrying those two men

There is a part of me that is the earth, round and complete and self sufficient

There is a part of me that the rock on which I stand

There is a part of me that is these mountains

There is a part of me that is the air the stretches out before me that seemingly separates me from ‘here’ and ‘there’

There is a part of me that is that tree, leaves, branches, twigs, the dead branch, growing, roots searching for water, limbs stretching towards the sun

There is a part of me that is that star, shining in emptiness that is not empty, unique, filling my surroundings with light, unafraid to be me

There is a part of me that is that insect circling its little space on this earth. Its whole world that it knows and its instinct that drives it

There is a part of me that was that strange shadow that I saw flow over the cliff face in front of me. Twilight to far gone to understand it, the part of me that feels fear at the unknown and strange

There is a part of me that is the gathering night. Change from light to darkness back to light again, rhythm of life, rhythm of change

I have been given a gift of solitude. Two days alone in a house in Chihuahua city. It wasn´t supposed to be this way, my partner having promised he would be there to collect me. I was pretty annoyed I tell ya when I first read his email but then I realized I wasn’t actually really annoyed, just thinking I should be annoyed and I calmed down and you know it is actually good to have this time to catch up with myself and let myself rest and have silent time for a day or two before properly diving back into the fray of life and all its attendant madness.

We are driving to the border to change our visitor status and then we drive to Guanajuato to collect the rest of our stuff. We are getting a new house here in Chihuahua city and I am organizing my English language lessons for when I return to Palmarejo.

I am still coming together after two weeks of emotional intensity, whether mine or other peoples and when you are in a group like that it doesn’t really matter whose it is. After two weeks I could feel my hold on my inner calm wearing, which of course just means I have more stuff to look at, but it is a longing to be alone again, without the constant friction of being aware and present in every moment. Makes me realize how much time I spend not being present when I go to these journeys. All the stuff comes up. It comes up in me, it comes up in somebody else and triggers something in me, I compare and judge myself for it, I make mistakes and judge myself for it. I come clean and tell all and it feels so much better until the next stuff comes up and I have to do it all over again.

What did I discover… well if it can be put into words. Here is the biggie; I had an epiphany about how I have resisted my parents trying to teach me things all my life. I had always thought it was about music, or school, or the Irish language (when I was six I told my mother this was a stupid language and I am not learning it… I didn´t) but I had a feeling then that it went way back before that. I think, possibly, that I was just resisting… full stop. I was not going to be who they wanted me to be but I didn’t really have anything else to be so I daydreamed glory and being amazing at something, anything, so they would have to think I was great. Combine dreams of glory with passive resistance and an insecurity complex about not being good enough and what do you have? Stuck.

The thing is I realized was that it wasn’t about them trying to make me into what they wanted or whether they were or not. I was in resistance even before they tried to teach me anything. I think I was born resisting being here. I know that sounds stupid but it made sense at the time it occurred to me. I don’t even know if it’s true or not, doesn’t really matter, what was great for me was the fact I saw it as mine, not theirs and so now I can keep it and own it.

So, I am going to stop resisting. It will take practice I am sure, I spent the last three days of the workshop with a tight band around my stomach. Pure resistance, my mind in a last ditch attempt to hang on, and I am sure it will use wily means and old tried and tested patterns to hold me here. But I have seen past it now so in the end it will have to let go and learn how to float.

There was once a beautiful woman who wanted nothing more than know love and to love and be loved in return. She wore her best clothes always and make up and surrounded herself with jewels and the finest most expensive objects and love did not come to her. She was cursed.

If any man looked at her with love his heart would turn to stone and he would turn into a statue. She did this to them with her eyes. If she looked in their eyes and saw the love there that was the end. She would have them taken away and put somewhere in her gardens and soon the power of the curse became known and no more suitors came with roses in their hands and love in their eyes.

She lost hope and her wiles became desperate. She would have her picture painted and hung in palaces around the country in the hope of finding her love. She spent longer and longer each day on her toiletry to keep her looks and her beauty but to no avail, she grew older and began to grow ugly.

One evening, just as the sun was setting, a young man arrived at her door. He knocked politely and, when she beckoned him in, entered quietly and kept his face to the floor. He did not look at her. She anyway, did not want him to look at her, she had come to hate herself and believe she was the ugliest foulest creature on this earth. Nothing would love her ever and she had come to accept that bitterly and that knowledge and bitterness turned her evermore inwards and the lines on her face grew deeper and her eyes smaller and pinched.

He said, “I have seen your picture my lady and I thought it sad and lonely and I have an answer to your problem”

She did not believe him and was about to kick him out, angrily she hissed at him “how do you know what my problem is, and how dare you think you can fix it”

He did not move but, still with his face to the floor, said “Please let me try, what have you to lose? Let me try”

She was suspicious but agreed to let him try. He took a small round mirror from his bag and gave it to her. “It is very simple but very hard” he said “It will hurt a lot, are you sure?”

The woman was still suspicious but something in her really wanted to try and so she took the mirror and said “What now?”

“I want you to sit and look at yourself in that mirror until you look at yourself with the love you wish to see from someone else’s eyes” he said

“Easy” she snorted and he said nothing but just smiled at the floor.

“I will be back tomorrow” he said “It will take a little while, be patient and you will know when you get it right” and he left and closed the door softly behind him.

She went and adorned herself with her favourite necklace and earrings, did her hair just the way she liked it, she used rouge and eyeshadow and blusher and lipstick and when she felt she was ready she sat down and held the mirror up in front of her eyes.

At first nothing happened, she began to get bored and her arm began to ache, she looked at herself and looked at herself and she looked at her hair and her eyeshadow and her lipstick and her jewels and she thought how good she still looked despite her age and her lines around her mouth.

Then she began to see imperfections, this line too deep, this line too long, her mouth thin and bitter, her teeth yellow and that gap that she always tried to hide with what she always thought was a winsome sideways smile. Her eyes were too narrow and deep-set, the eye shadow only served to accentuate their positioning. She began to look at her make-up as ridiculous, who was she to try to beautify herself? It made her look like a doll or a clown. She put the mirror down and thought “this is stupid, I have never thought like this before, why am I doing this” and she went to get up but instead something made her sit down and she found herself looking at the mirror again. She looked so ugly! Her eyes like black holes with all the eyeliner, her mouth a hideous dark purple colour that stained her teeth, her nose too pointy, her skin pasty and caked with the paste she used to make herself fashionably pale. She remembered her skin when she was a child, how brown and smooth and clear it had been.

She got up and went upstairs and removed all her make-up and jewels and undid her hair and washed it. She washed her face completely clean and went downstairs again where the mirror was waiting for her. She sat down and again lifted the mirror to look at herself, this time with a little trepidation as to what was waiting for her. She sat and looked again and this time saw herself as old and pasty and wrinkly and bitter and lonely and she started to cry that no-one would ever love her. She had been living a lie all these years, how everyone must have laughed at her; seeing her look for love when she was so plainly ugly and desperate and unlovable. She wept and wept and she said to herself, “I will never leave this house again, I will stay hidden till I die, it is my fault all those young men are dead, they looked at me and I was so ugly they turned to stone in fright, I was selfish”

She cried for a while and then she began to get angry. It was not her fault the men had come looking to her for love. It was not her fault their hearts had turned to stone and they had become statues still adorning her garden. How stupid their faces looked, with their puppy dog eyes gazing at nothing adoringly, their hands outstretched that once held flowers or a gift for her. So much hope. Some had the beginnings of fear in their eyes where they realized what was happening to them but most were too stupid she thought. Stupid men. That was her stupidity, she thought, that she wanted to find love in the first place. Well, never again! She hurled the mirror in the ground where it smashed and she went round the house looking for other mirrors to break. Soon all of her mirrors lay in shards on the ground and she had to be careful where she walked so as not to cut herself. She sat down feeling pleased with herself. When that young man came back with his eyes to the floor she would give him a piece of her mind, how dare he come and upset her like that!

She sat there for a while lost in thought and then a great emptiness opened inside her and she felt she was looking into an abyss of nothingness. All her clothes and jewelry and hard walls and make-up and opinions could not protect her from that abyss and she felt herself fall into the darkness, a nothing, a spark of light extinguished by the oppressive blackness. She began to cry once more. I am nothing she thought; it is only me and nobody else to help me. She felt sorry for herself, she had been abandoned by the world and forgotten and rejected by it and it hurt her in every cell of her body to think that she was not worth the slightest bit of attention from the universe. I failed, she thought, I am a failure.

She lay on the floor looking out the window at the stars in the night sky. She began to feel something else strange to her, something she had never felt before in her life. She began to feel truly alone, but not in a bad way, she realized she was enjoying this sensation. Nobody else was here; she did not have to ‘be’ anything, not pretty or clever or dressed in the right clothes or, horrors, that anyone should see her without her make-up and jewels and with her hair done correctly. She felt peace, she thought, I can look after myself, I have been searching for someone else to look after me for so long, maybe I just have to look after myself from now on and not need anyone else in my life. She sniffed again, she could feel the tears of self pity starting, no-one would love her, but that was ok, she would love herself. She sat up and picked up a shard of mirror that lay close by and looked in it. And how strange, she thought, that a piece of a mirror shows the same thing as a whole mirror, maybe it is the same for us, that one person reflects the same as the whole thing, that we are all just shards of mirrors broken up into pieces yet we still reflect the whole. She began to see herself as part of everything and to look at herself differently. She saw her faults and they did not bother her, she saw past her outside into her real self and she cried for all the years she had spent avoiding herself. She whispered ‘I love you’ and smiled at her reflection, I will never again turn a heart to stone she thought.

But thinking this thought, her mind became fearful and doubt crept in, how can I love myself after all those years of turning hearts to stone, think of the harm I have inflicted, they must hate me!

Her fear came to the defense and with the same power she had used to turn to stone the hearts of the young men who had looked at her with love it used the mirror to turn her heart to stone and her last thought was it was too late, she would never know love, and love someone and be loved in return.

The young man came back the next morning. He did not knock, as if he knew what he would find. He stepped over the shards of broken glass and came across the statue of the woman lying on the floor with a piece of glass still in her hand, still staring that direction with one tear frozen on her cheek. He smiled gently and taking a small hammer from his pocket he took careful aim and hit the statue hard, once, over the heart. It cracked and the cracks spread and spread until the body was covered in a fine layer of cracks. He stood then and went to the garden and took a bowl of water from the fountain and carried it back inside. He stood over the body and sprinkled a little at a time over her until she was wet from head to foot. Then he leant down and whispered in her ear “come back”

She sat up in a shock. She was wet and covered in mud but alive and happy and feeling lighter than she ever had before in her life. She laughed and the young man in front of her looked at her straight in the eyes and laughed back. She had a moment of fear that he would become hard and still like all the others but it passed and he didn’t and she stared in wonderment at him

‘thank you’ she said,

he shook his head ‘I didn’t do anything, I saw your picture and thought you were beautiful but I had heard all the stories and I did not want to be turned to stone like the others, you had to break the curse, you and nobody else”

He took her to a mirror and there she saw herself young again, clear skinned and clear eyed and smiling, happy and free. She cried a tear of joy at the feeling of release it gave her.

He took her out the back and she freed the statues out the back of her garden and apologized to each one in turn. Then she turned to her new found friend and said “What now?”

He smiled “Now is just the beginning” he said