Magic was afoot from the first moments. After scouting for the place to build the medicine wheel, I formed a mound of sand then secured the central stone from Olympia on top of it. Stepping back, a glittering caught my eye. What was this? Gently I brushed away the grass. Half-buried within inches of the Olympia stone was a smooth, smoky red quartz crystal, about two inches long. Wow! Talk about the Welcome Mat being set out! I replaced the crystal, fully exposed now to the light. From that moment on, the wheel built itself, one element after another asking for inclusion … fern fronds, tiny English daisies, fans of cedar needles, a rose quartz crystal heart from Costa Rica.
The dawn ceremony was sweet … the intention the creation of the medicine wheel and all the healing it would bring to man and to the Earth. Then came all the rest of my morning duties taking the requested samples and establishing camp.
At the noon ceremony the Super Libra full moon that would peak at 1:10 pm asked for acknowledgment. The tide was smashing into shore, waves galloping every which way in a maelstrom of energy. And it wasn’t even high tide yet. Balance—the signature of Libra—seemed elusive. The energy increased. Waves that had traveled for thousands of miles careened into shore. Deadfall logs swept into the sea from the rainforests crashed together, booming like drums, beating against the base of the small sand cliff below. Wind driven rain lashed my face, pouring wetness on the fire that smoked the sky.
Illusion—the other hallmark of Libra—was being swept away. This moon was the herald. No longer could we sustain the illusion of our separateness from life. The Earth, the cosmos itself was demanding our full participation, thumping its chest, insisting on being seen and taken in.
High tide and the moon’s peak approach arrived within 37 minutes of each other. The energetic forces were beyond belief. This was the climactic meeting ground between the water and earth elements. A place where everything, every blade of grass, every bush and tree was molded by forces so huge they reduced the coastal reality to a narrow line drawn in shifting sand. I felt like a twig tossed in a massive flood, and yet still the energy built. I lay face down on the earth, arms outstretched towards the medicine wheel and let the energies pour through me. There could be no containment … only surrender.
I lay there for an hour? Slowly peace prevailed. The ravaging peak was over. The Earth held me. I held the Earth. Only much later after I had gotten up and changed my sodden clothes did I realize Kristine’s prediction had been a true one. Tsunami energy … impossibly powerful and relentless and yet, with surrender and love it could become peace …
Filled with gratitude, I watched the seas calm throughout the afternoon. Rain continued to pummel the shores to the north and south. But Kalaloch was suddenly blessed with only intermittent sprinkles. The wind died away. Patches of blue flirted with the clouds. I laughed and sang songs of love to the Earth and sky, ocean and fire.
The rest of the weekend passed like a song. My best friend, Fiona, unexpectedly joined me Saturday night. As the Sunday dawn ceremony concluded I wondered aloud what this world would be like if everyone entered the day honoring and acknowledging life with open gladdened hearts? In answer two eagles flew down the beach, landing directly in front of our camp. Soon a third eagle flew in. They stayed for almost an hour, busying themselves with a feast of razor clams. The message was clear…. Open your hearts and all shall be given because the All has been received.
Midnight ceremony and mystery beckoned. We are walking into the unknown! Yet somehow even this complete unknown future we are all creating is somehow familiar. How not? Time is not linear. It is vertical, containing only the Now, and the Now and the Now. Everything is held in that Space from the beginning to the end of Time. And then the cycle will begin anew—all the knowns rebirthed as a mystery to be breathlessly rediscovered over and over again.
On Monday we did not want to leave and yet it was time to go. A solitary eagle flew into the trees above us, calling, calling. Fiona waved goodbye and I resumed striking camp, disassembling the wheel, taking care of all the mundane details restoring the site to its original pristine condition. As I packed the last things away, the eagle gave a last series of calls, reminding me he was still there—an undeniable talisman showing me that my prayers had been heard … that all our prayers had been heard and that they had been good prayers.
Weeping in gratitude, I watched as he flew away towards the north, never hesitating or faltering in his determined course. I watched in admiration and vowed to never look backwards to my own past either.
It was my task to go to Quinault—a task set by Spirit—a task that would give me the opportunity to experience Life itself in a new way: Life as ceremony, ceremony as life. The most common situations filled with riches; the simplest action filled with meaning; every moment blessed with the full participation of all Life’s creatures showing up, doing their part in the play.
Thank you Blue Thunder. Thank you Kristine. Thank everyone who joined the wheel. Most of all, thank you Mother. Thank you for letting me know I no longer need forgiveness … only to participate fully, in gratitude every moment the rest of my life—a life that will never be the same.
Photo credit: Bill Nicholls
