The Visions came first. So brief and yet indelibly emblazoned on my brain. A giant hand placing me gently down by a stone wall in the back of a house. I knew this house, this vista. I had stood right here, looking out at the mountains in the distance. This was the first time I could actually see where my Guides were pointing, where Spirit was calling me. You see, the Portals were awaiting my arrival, patiently tended until it was time. It was time!
Six months later as I set out into the woods ready to explore, my yellow lab, Rigby, was as excited as I was. This was our thing, wandering through the woods, listening to where we were being drawn, climbing hills and sitting by the stream. We had always loved the woods! Freedom lived there and invited us to play!
[Even now, as I write this, I feel the invigoration, the energizing, the call! So clear. Bursting with its own medicine, its own culture, a whole network of support. The trees invited me into their community. The owls called to me from the branches above. It felt magical! It felt like home!]
So, day after day, we would set off into this haven in search of the trails marked long ago. Red. Green. Blue. We had a map, but where did they begin and where did they end? That would take a while to decipher. Finding a trail marker would spark a small celebration, but with my sense of direction, how easy would it be to find again tomorrow!? It didn’t matter. It was the exploration, the act of intuiting where to go next. That was the point. That is what mattered.
As we meandered through the pathless woods, the bright Fall leaves lighting our way, we began to discover magical structures made of bent sticks, tied together with bright red strips of cloth, each one a work of art. I loved them immediately, so unique, some domes, some triangular, every one exactly what the artist was called to create. Frameworks for temporary shelters, yet signs of connection, signs of people communing with these woods. I could see ceremonies, smell fire and sage billowing through the air. They walked hand in hand with Wonder! I walked among them. I had great company in these woods. I felt so alive!
[There was something SO magical about this place. These woods were SO alive. I was not imagining its pull. Others had felt its magnetism long before I arrived. And not far from these shelters where all three of the trails converged sat a firepit bordered with long stone slab benches. I stepped up onto the stone bench. I knew right then that this was to be my place of worship. My temple. My spiritual schoolhouse.]
Then, the unspeakable happened. As I raced through the woods, my eyes could barely take it in. Every one of the shelters had been knocked down, intentionally broken. Who would do such a thing? Why? My heart ached as I held the knowing that these shelters would never be resurrected in these woods again. I took a few breaths, let my heart settle. I tuned in. Sadness. Anger. And then, acceptance and a knowingness that it was time. Winter was upon us, and this is exactly what was supposed to happen. Crafted alongside the young green leaves of Springtime. And taken down in late fall when the trees went dormant. There was deep wisdom and respect held within this cycle, and so much Love. So much Love.
A few weeks later, as I moved briskly along the green trail heading home, something caught my eye. Right there, tied to a trail marker was one of the bright red strips of cloth! Was it a message? A Gift? I wasn’t sure. So I went to the tree, held the strip of cloth in my hands, and closed my eyes. Sadness rushed in, as if the cloth contained a string of tears. For a while, this would become my ritual, to hold the ribbon and let the emotions flow through me, perhaps helping to process the sadness strung within. Was it sadness that I had come and that this person no longer felt at home here? I did not know. I could only guess.
Then, one day, I was in my healer’s office, and she said, “this is going to sound strange, but there is something somewhere on your property that you need to retrieve. Do you have any idea what that could be?” I paused for a moment, and then it came so clear. The Bright Red Ribbon was a gift. I was to receive it, take it from its place and carry it to my home. I felt excitement coarse through me in anticipation of finally retrieving this beautiful gift. But when I stood up from the table, I was stopped in my tracks. Immobilized. I waited as a powerful energy rushed towards me, and in that moment, I understood that the ribbon was not the point at all! The gift was the message sewn through the red strip of cloth dangling from the tree. It was welcoming me to the woods and handing over the keys to all they contained. It was a spiritual gift, and I was to receive it right then and there. Completely. Freely. It was a passing of the torch. Their watch was over, which carried the sadness of a cycle ending, and my watch was just beginning.
When I got home, I still rushed out to retrieve the red cloth, to retrieve the physical manifestation of this great gift. It sits upon my altar still reminding me of the great gift I have been given and the great responsibility I have chosen to take on. Someday, I may sit down and speak of the portals with the gifter, but for now, I go about my work deep in the woods listening day after day to its Great Wisdom. I have already undergone many cycles of death and rebirth in these woods, and there is so much more to come! Excuse me now, I hear the Owls calling…