of myth and legend

Ancient Minoan Olive Tree at Kavousi (3250 years old)

Among the twigs and branches of the mythic forest, I find my way forward, eyes wide open in awe, gazing at the unfamiliar green giants towering above, and at fuchsia toadstools that hide upon the edge of the narrow path where flower petals have fallen and given themselves to guide my way softly with loving encouragement. 

The mythic forest is strong and lush, filled with the truth that I seek. Each footstep is hushed by the layer of leaves and blossoms while a rainbow guides my reaching hands into the next moment of surprise and welcome. The energy changes constantly as desires of millions fly in and out of these woods and clearings upon the wings of fairies who smile with delight to know the change is happening. They’ve been patient and encouraging for thousands of years, and are eager to help in the shift.

I raise my hands and see them tattooed with henna peace symbols, tracings of the veins of leaves that welcome me by tapping on my shoulder and caressing my cheek before drifting to the forest path to leave a secret message in the earth as their own change begins.

A new day is dawning and here where all possibility and potential lives, the inhabitants are rising, pulling on their moccasins of community and their cloaks of imagination, washing their faces in the dew of the rushing waters held a while in suspension but now released, a misty wisdom hurling itself into the morning with the joyous giggling of droplets that can fall freely now back to the ocean and rivers of flowing Vital Force within which lies creativity and freedom. Here in the mythic forest, a change is happening and I am witness to it all.

The walls around the forest have been pulled down by hobbits and rabbits and all those who continued to dig under or climb over in the dark of the night knowing the sacred core was still glowing within, though hidden away at one time for safety and protection, but then was hoarded, and finally forgotten and buried by the overgrowth of inactivity within its depths. Come into the mythic forest where all who love are welcome, where all can play in peace together under the GaiaTree. 

No longer divided or kept away, no longer hidden from self or others, pure freedom flies in this mythic forest upon the wings of the white doves and the wise owl while the eagle takes its cue from them, descending onto its ledge to rest and nurture its neglected young in peace and plenty. The vulture picks clean the bones outside the forest so that they are ready for transformation and renewal, and I help to carry the bones into the mythic forest where the bleached remnants are honored and then burned upon the altar of change, the spirits within rising to kiss the sky, and the ashes fall to nourish the earth. 

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Stream of consciousness writing from today's ClarityWorks writing prompt "mythic forest"

Grapevine Arbor

Vibrations still echo through my body, those subtle connective threads across the bounds of time, as I enter the long grapevine arbor that leads from the ancient past into the present. This enchanting surprise brings a smile to my face that I see reflected in the women with whom I journey. Cheerful, childish chatter bubbles up into the vines overhead as our joy becomes a champagne made from the grapes that surround us, a few colorful, heavy bunches - like tiny water balloons - hidden among the dry greens and browns. A companion eagerly pulls a few warm purple globes out from the recesses of shadow and hands some to me. Delicious! We commune with the twining plants as we receive in gratitude their fruits. 

Walking through the tunnel of life, knowing its gifts and some of its secrets, I wonder about the bridge between then and now, between what has been and what will become. Gaia infuses all of us with the same vital force, and it only takes a moment of pause to feel our sameness, to know our unique expression of the One as being present. The same arbor of thick vines that shelters me from the intense rays of the sun also receives the blessing of illumination, transforming the light into sweetness from which I partake of the wisdom of cycles and growth, transition and death. 

I feel my aura expand, intersecting and then being absorbed within the broad spectrum of tangled stems and branching arms that hold my energy safe within this space. I move through with such wonder and delight. Can you, dear vine, feel the inspiration to grow and create, to open and stretch into the light of vigorous transformation as the liquid rushes through our veins as one? Night will come, allowing rest and a soft coolness to mix with the gold of fire in ancient alchemy of nature held within the unseen voice of Sacred blessings that resonate throughout the length of the arbor, connecting all the grapes of green and purple, inspiring seeds and leaves to know the future beyond death of drawing within at close of cycle. We are the grapes, the vines, the seeds. We are the Regeneration.

How long have I been traveling this tunnel of vines? Minutes or years? Nearing the exit -- never the end -- I see tomato vines blending, offering their bright red balls into the pattern. Change is always happening. For a moment, I hesitate, not wanting to leave the magical path. I feel a strong desire to stay in the mystery of transformation, but then it wouldn’t be walking with wisdom to remain for too long in a single moment. I close my eyes for an instant of pure connection without distraction, and smile in recognition at Her reveal of Self. Inner and outer experience reunite under the Cretan sun; cool, dark fingers release their hold as warmer rays of welcoming arms of gold encourage me forward. Friendship and food await. Enticing aromas and voices of community call from just around the corner. Moving on ...

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As I write about the places I visited during my pilgrimage, I notice that it's not only the ancient archeological sites that weave their magic, but also the spaces, the land, the sea ...

Below is the same photo as above but with an arrow pointing to the long grapevine arbor through which we walked from Zakros to the coastal taverna where our group ate lunch. I find it odd that I didn't take a picture of the arbor, but perhaps the absence of a snapshot only enhances my sense of being a bit 'out of sync' ...

Makriyalos

The view from my hotel room ...

I will be back to blogging soon. Meanwhile, I will share a photo or two. 

Home from Crete

view of Kavousi, Crete