By Taarna of the Unicorn Glade
We sit or lay upon the ground and close our mortal eyes, and gaze out upon the mythic realm of our spiritual eye, seeing only darkness. We float freely and gently without care. As we gaze about the darkness, we feel no fear, for we are protected by our Lady the Goddess. It gives us comfort to know this, and we can relax.
We are at peace with ourselves, in our own hearts and in our own minds. Our mundane worries and concerns placed into the suitcases of our meditation and placed away from us for the time being. There is no need to carry the mundane with us.
As we float, here in the darkness, we see in the distance a bright light. It is a curious light. It is a warm light. It is a pleasant light. It is a light that beckons us closer. There is something unknown, and yet familiar about this light. Something that makes us want to go there. It draws our spirit with goodness and happiness.
We will ourselves closer to this light, and as we do, we feel the sensation of motion. It is not as if there were wind rushing at us, nor the feeling of falling, merely the feeling of moving from place to place. We realize that it is through our own will that we travel towards that light. That oh so wonderful light. Like the rhythm of the tides, we move closer.
We are closer to the light. It is so warm and happy a light. It makes us feel vibrant and youthful. We can only wonder at the source of such a light. Our curiosity drives our will even stronger. We must see where this light comes from. We as Icarus flying high to the sun out of wonder. It drives us onward with its goodness and its ever-growing promise of discovery.
As we approach the light, we start to smell the scents of spring and new born growth. Flowers just budding. Trees’ gaining their first leaves. And we realize that the bright light that has driven us so far, is the light of the morning sun. The Lord, the God burning brightly in the sky. Giving life to all He sees.
As dawn’s light approaches us, we see that we are at a clearing, a glade of wondrous beauty. Here we can smell the scents of life. We see grand, old trees all around with the sunlight, bright and warm shining on the grassy center. We sit upon the ground and lay back. The sky is of the purest azure blue, interrupted only by the occasional cottony white cloud passing by, and the glowing orb that warms us.
On the far side of the glade, we see a small child. A young girl, singing , laughing, and playing those games that children play. Our curiosity again draws us near. We watch the young girl go from flower to flower, singing and the birds and the animals of the glade.
Wildlife abounds. Peace is everywhere. The young girl wears a flowing gown of cloud-like material, loose and wispy, with a gossamer texture, free and airy.
The young girl doesn’t show any sign of seeing us as she plays. And yet, we feel that she is aware of us and all we do. We feel innocence from her, the innocence of youth. And yet we also feel tremendous power from her. She radiates power rivaling the God in the sky.
The young girl starts a dancing skip down a path amongst the old trees. We follow behind her, watching her frolic amongst the trees. As we follow her, we notice that the sun, the fiery God, is rising higher in the sky. The scents of spring that we had smelled are slowly fading.
The air grows warmer. Hotter still. Heated by the power of the God, rising in the sky. And we notice, as we follow this playful young girl, that her step grow more solid, her playfulness lessens, her demeanor more serious. She grows taller, older. She is blossoming into a young woman, strong and full of fighting spirit. Her gossamer thin clothing changes with her to become armour, her bouquet of flowers, a sword. She is no longer the little girl of the glade, frolicking carefree. She is a protector and a defender.
We notice that the forest gives way to the open desert. The young woman, grown, yet not quite mature, walks firmly and with purpose, as if on a mission. The God has risen to his highest in the sky. He burns down relentlessly. Lending his fire to all he touches.
We feel the fires of the high noontime sun. It is hot, it is summer. We bath in the heat. But we do not burn. For we know the protectress is ahead of us, and she will not allow us to be harmed. Within the desolation of the desert we do see the beauty that is there, the life that resides within these wastelands. This we see in the light of the young woman we follow.
As our journey continues, the desert gives way to open fields. Grain is ready for harvesting. The once fiery God grows lower, older, and colder in the western sky. The God travels towards the evening of his life. The scents of autumn are in the air. The fields abound with golden grain, ripe and ready. The occasional tree we pass has a rainbow of colours painted by its leaves.
We see that the young woman seems to have grown older, more mature. And like children we follow her. Her armour has changed. Slowly before our eyes, as we follow her, what was once leather and steel become linen and bone. Her clothing is practical. She is now the Mother. We see she is now holding a baby. Nurturing and caring for this child. Loving and protecting this infant in a way only a Mother can. We see the signs of aging on her face. But still we are filled with her strength and kindness as we follow behind her. Though she is no longer the Warrior, we feel protected, and comfortable.
The sun descends beneath the horizon, and the God in a final blaze of glory paints the dusk sky with his remaining fire of oranges and red. The air grows chilled and crisp. We begin to see our breath in the cold air. We notice traces of snow around us. That which once was the autumnal beauty of color seems to be blending into a scenery of white. The trees and flowers all lie dormant, and fruitless, dead to the eye. The God’s fire and warmth has passed on. All is cold.
The motherly woman, now seems to be bending under the weight of her years. She is old and her children grown. Her once practical dresses of linen give way to tattered and worn robes of wool. She carries a staff to aid her. Her strength is no longer of body, rather it is of mind. Wisdom radiates from her. She has the wisdom of the ages. Her presence warms us from the crisp winter’s air. The scene is all white, glistening by the light of the Lady, the Moon. As the old Crone trudges onward, we see her aging, more and more, but growing wiser with each and every step.
Now we see clouds starting to cover the Lady, our Goddess, the Moon. There feels to be a storm in the air. The wind rises, and the air chills. We feel the storm approach. The snow is whipped about, obscuring our vision of the old woman. We long to keep our eyes upon her.
The storm is upon us. The Lady, the moon is obscured by the clouds. There is Wind, and Rain, it melts the snow. There is Lightning and Thunder flashing all about. The noise is very nearly deafening. We can no longer see the Old Crone. Winter’s snow has been stripped from the landscape and all has become colorless.
The tempest has the winds blowing from the East, the South, the West, and the North. The very earth beneath is blown up into the winds to be mixed with the rain and the lightning. The downpour washes everything away. All that once was has perished. We have watched it pass away.
The storm has silenced. All is still. All is quiet. It is very eerie. We feel we are on the verge of a great and wondrous happening. The clouds recede, and we see the night sky, with the Goddess still shining upon us. The path is still there, and beckons us onward. Though, the Old Crone is nowhere to be seen. The landscape is barren, devoid of life. The air is still and without the sounds or the smells of life. The path is narrow and straight.
In the silence and the stillness of the night air we look up at our Lady, and we notice the night sky brightening to the east. Lo and behold, it is the God! In a fanfare of red Fire, he climbs above the horizon to give forth his warmth to the barren lands. And under his light of dawn, we see seedlings breaking up from the earth. New life, fresh and alive, reborn from the death of winter’s cold clutches. The barren landscape slowly gives way to the new growth.
As we follow the path around a hill we are startled to see that we have arrived at the place where we started. Here at the glade. The spring warmth, once again, fills our senses with the new life.
And, here, playing in the field, is a young girl. The same young girl we saw when we started this journey. We realize that the Goddess has led us on a journey, full circle, from youth, through maturity to old age, to death, and then to rebirth.
But now it is time to return to our mortal lives, to those who love us, so that we may continue on our own paths of birth, life, death, and rebirth. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Air, fire, water, and earth. Maiden, Mother, Warrior, Crone.
Let us will ourselves back. Leave this place of light, refreshed to have seen such wondrous sights. We float freely away on the tides of life. The glade shrinking away in the distance. Becoming only a single point of light. We feel ourselves returning, returning. And though we have returned to our mundane baggage of our toils, we still carry an inner peace from what we have seen.
Let us open our mortal eyes, now. Awake, awake, awake.