VISION QUEST: SUMMER SOLSTICE 1995

by Elena Powell

I watched as the last sliver of the sun’s disk was devoured by the mountains. The breeze heralding dusk mercifully swept the mosquitoes off my face and forearms and all at once in that moment of stillness I was face to face with myself, alone in the wilderness.

Nine hours of darkness, I thought. It seemed long. It was late June, the night of the new moon, and for the past day and a half I, in a group of other women, with Nanci as the facilitator, had been working to be open to this challenge through fasting, meditations, and ceremony.

I reflected on my imminent marriage and my recent decision to leave my Ph.D. program as I snuggled in my sleeping bag, my back at the sole live oak tree on a narrow spit of granite projecting out into the yawning valley. I began to drift towards comforting sleep. A small annoying voice kept insisting, however, that I would be disappointed if I gave in to this oblivion; I ignored it. So the voice found its way into my dreams, and warned me sternly that I was sleeping on Coyote’s bed.

I awoke with a start, remembering that I had found a yellow coat with the lining chewed out and clearly slept on in that very spot. From here, Coyote could see the whole dome of the starry sky. I could also now “see” a trail shining with a faint golden light used by many woodland inhabitants (but especially Coyote, I was sure) running right past me. Blood roared in my ears and I leaned closer into the tree for reassurance.

Just then came a loud quick panting in my right ear. Though I saw nothing, I could even feel warm breath on me. I leapt up, adrenaline surging. Earlier, I had found a large dark feather near a tall dead pine tree now to my left. I stuck this feather in my hair and clutched two colored feathers, one in each hand, and pretended that I was Eagle. I thought that if I could maintain a steady stream of sound and movement, I would warn off any approaching animal, so I chanted, danced and sang for the next several hours. At one point while I was singing I saw a light like a flashlight approaching me from the uphill slope. At first I thought someone had heard all the noise I was making and was coming to investigate. I continued to sing, but softly, observing how the light was moving left, then right, just like someone traversing the mountain, but it never got any closer. When I was back to a state of near-sleep, the light disappeared.

A few moments later I was blasted awake by a loud sneeze directly in front of me. This time I forced a laugh and said, “Not so close!” I was still bone stiff with fear so I told a story of Eagle and Coyote; it came out of me unbidden and I didn’t know where it would end, but eventually it concluded with Eagle and Coyote exchanging gifts. Then I sang a song woven from the names of all the women I know, and last of all I sang to my husband-to-be. The feathers in my hands never stopped their motion.

Slowly I became aware of Coyote’s presence just outside the circle, directly in front of me in the North. I told him that I would give him my beautiful magic colored feathers, to soar to the high peaks above, and look down on everyone, and swoop joyously in his own magical space. In return I asked that he leave me alone, because I was still too afraid to meet him in person. I also asked him to make a present to me sometime. He seemed to accept this exchange, for the presence left soon afterward.

At dawn, three ravens landed on the dead pine tree in the West. They were cackling loudly to each other and seemed to be sharing a joke. I felt for the feather in my hair, pulled it forward and held it up in the first light of morning and laughed.

MY LIFE WITH THE DARK GODDESS

by Donna Marie Graves, L.C.S.W.

All of my life, I’ve felt the presence of the Dark Goddess. Subtle at times, dormant for long periods during others, surfacing only in dreams. Hitting me full force, once or twice, like a freight train in the dead of night. When I mention Her to others (rarely), they tend to look at me with a mixture of perplexity, disbelief, and discomfort. “Who is this Dark Goddess?” they wonder. Is She the demon from the novel, “The Exorcist,” dripping pea soup and turning a swivel head? Is She the Antichrist, “slouching towards Bethlehem to be born” (T.S. Eliot)?

My collection of books on the Dark Goddess reveal Her to take different forms in different countries. She is Isis in Egypt, Kali in India, Cerridwen in Ireland, Black Tara in Tibet, Hekate in Greece, Baba Yaga in Russia, Lilith in Israel, Spider Woman for the Native Americans, and is the “dark” forms of the Virgin Mary in Europe and Latin America. This is a “snapshot” of Whom She has been for me.

Soon after I was born, my mother dedicated me to the Blessed Mother. She took me to the mother house of a Polish order of nuns in Coraopolis, Pennsylvania, had me blessed, and officially declared me Donna Marie after my patron, the Madonna. Growing up Catholic, I frequently prayed to the Blessed Mother instead of Jesus and wore Her image on medals and scapulars. Each summer during family vacations, I was particularly drawn to a picture of Our Lady of Czestochowa that hung incongruously on the bedroom wall of my uncle’s fishing cabin until the cabin was remodeled after his death. Dark and mysterious, I asked my mother who She was because I certainly didn’t recognize Her from the pristine pictures of the Virgin on holy cards and in books. I was afraid of that picture and yet I liked to look at it. It reminded me of a recurrent dream: An ancient woman with long black hair who mumbled unintelligible words, trying to tickle me and seemingly wanting to merge with me until I awakened in terror.

I had that dream at infrequent intervals throughout my life until I was an adult woman. I know Her now to be the Dark Goddess, but I didn’t recognize Her presence until I was diagnosed with malignant melanoma (a tumor containing black pigment), at the age of 31. At age 32, a few nights before the appearance of an affected lymph node, She flew into my life in the form of a great horned owl as my “Power Animal,” the Goddess of the Night. (The owl is mythically symbolized as the bird of Medusa and with the Goddess Athene.)

In 1992, not long after my mother’s death, I made a pilgrimage to the Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, where a copy of the original picture of the Black Madonna is displayed. I have decided to return this summer to continue the mother-daughter tradition and dedicate my 8-year-old daughter, Rebecca Claire, to the Virgin Mary. But this time it will be to the Dark Mother, the “yin” of the “yin/yang” of the Blessed Mother. In this way, I hope the Black Madonna will become Rebecca’s ally, instead of the repressed figure that haunted my life.

She is with me now, the Dark Goddess, in my 40th year, the melanoma having long since fled. She is there as I journey each week during Nanci’s Mystery School Training School. Her dark presence hovers there over us all.

WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT

by Elisa Mahan

In the past two years it seemed like books on rituals, Shamanism or the Goddess would call out to me when I entered a bookstore. I don’t know why I felt this way - I just did. I had a Tarot reading six months apart only to hear the same message that I was on a new journey and answers would come to me when the time was right.

So my journey brought me to Nanci last Winter Solstice. I attended her gathering and decided to sign up for her Wymyn’s Mysteries Training. As the weeks passed, others were sharing dreams regarding the Goddess or spirit world. But I had yet to dream at night. Then one night one finally came:

Our group was gathering in nature and we were busy putting up camp when it started to rain. We took shelter inside a large cave, we lit a fire, and shared our thoughts and sang songs. All of a sudden we noticed a light and a woman coming toward us. To my surprise, it was the triple Goddess Mary. She spoke to us not to be afraid, that the Great Mother and other Goddesses wanted to thank us for keeping them alive in our songs and study groups. They had been waiting for us to come to let us know we had chosen the right work to add to our lives. Then she vanished and all that remained was the firelight and our shadows.

The time had come not only for me to remember my dream and share it, but also to hear an answer. Namasté.

THE SPIRIT ANIMAL'S GIFT

by Rev. LuAnne Myers

This Spring, I had an experience that has deeply affected my life. I was on my way to the high school where I am a counselor. It was a dreary, foggy morning. Cars were moving faster than was safe. In the middle of the street was a large German Shepherd, who had been hit and couldn’t get out of the traffic. He seemed very afraid he was going to be hit again. I turned my car around, where a man had stopped and somehow moved the dog to the curb. The dog was in considerable distress as were both the man and I. I stayed with the dog and the man left. I got a blanket from my car to keep the dog warm, then called 911 on my car phone, and sat down on the curb. A fire truck came, and the man said he would call the Humane Society. No one came. A motorcycle officer stopped and said he would call the Humane Society. Still, no one came. As I sat next to the big dog, I put my hand on his head and talked to him softly. Now and then he would try to stand but couldn’t. Tears were streaming down my face, I felt helpless. It seemed to me that he was struggling against the indignity of lying in the gutter. I tried to remain calm and reassured him that I would not leave him, and that I loved him. We sat together for a long time. A connection was made that will be with me always. As we sat there I tried to deny my sense that he was dying. It seemed unfair to me that a being of such great power and depth should die needlessly. He was regal, even in this most painful of circumstances.

Finally, an animal control officer arrived. She tied a strap around his muzzle and lifted him gently into the truck. She took off the strap and spoke to him with love that I, too, could feel. I said good-bye. She closed the door and drove away. I thought I had seen him for the last time.

When I got to school, I called the animal hospital where he was taken. The vet said the dog was too severely injured to survive and had to be put down. I felt a pain so deep I thought I may never recover from it.

As part of my Shamanic Training, I am engaged in Journey work, which is a process of entering an expanded state of consciousness and seeking visions and insights not available in ordinary reality.

As I continued this practice, the dog would appear to me. He was beautiful, proud, and strong. And, he was healed. He would appear in an abyss, which seemed to hold the depth of my personal pain, and say “Look at me now!” I began to feel his presence in my life as a sign of strength. I started to look at his death and new life in terms of myself. I felt like I was being given a lesson but didn’t yet understand it.

Then, on a weekend workshop with Nanci in Joshua Tree, I had a profound journey in which I was being reborn and going through several initiation experiences. The dog appeared and he looked at and through me. Suddenly, I became the dog. I was again on the street in the fog and was hit by the car. I felt the impact, felt my pelvis break, but strangely, I felt no pain. I could feel the curb against my spine. A woman came, put her hand gently on my head and looked at me. In a few moments I turned into a dove and flew away.

My healing was palpable but not yet integrated. During our group sharing, I was aware that I was talking about the experience, but for the first time, without tears. I felt a new sense of freedom from my lifelong pain.

Later, Nanci and I talked about my journey, and I realized the dog had given his life for me so that I might learn, through feeling his pain, that it was actually my own emotional pain. I had always had an excessive reaction to the pain of others, being deeply affected, even depressed. I had never realized this, but its power had always frightened me. I had learned to protect myself by unconsciously keeping a distance between myself and others. By closing myself off, I prevented myself from doing the things I really loved with my whole heart.

As I looked at the experience with the dog, I realized that the pain of others had been a projection of my own pain. And I knew I no longer had to continue doing this to myself.

As I was writing this article, a confirmation of this experience occurred. At work one day, a small female dog was hit by a car and I went to assist. Her leg was bleeding heavily and she was in a great deal of pain. I bandaged the leg and calmed her. I also felt calm. Animal Control arrived, and I went back to my office, expecting that the dog would be alright.

A few days later I discovered that the dog had to be put down due to severe fractures. I was shocked, and felt the old pain begin to arise, but then I began to observe the process. Something was different. The pain was no longer in charge - I was! Although I continued to feel appropriate sadness, I was also able to release it.

I had witnessed my own healing! Both dogs had given me the chance to serve with an open heart, and yet not be attached to the outcome.

Both dogs, especially the German Shepherd, are now with me as Guides, Power Animals, in my journey work and in my life in general. Their presence is a constant reminder that our teachers are not always who or what we expect, and that they can make us aware of hidden gifts.

THE KEEPER OF THE BONES: TRANSFORMATION IN ENGLAND

by Michele Athena Morgen

(Michele was one of the participants on the WymynShamyn trip to Southwest England in 1996. The following is only one part of her experiences of growth.)

Glastonbury was like a holding pattern for me. Circling, circling, not landing, not feeling that I was going anywhere important, just holding. Perhaps a better way of describing it is integration, though I certainly wasn’t particularly aware of my inner processes. So much had happened - so much was still happening - just not in the form I expected.

As I grieved in Glastonbury for the loss of the Isle of Avalon, subtle events occurred which turned out to be not so subtle. I went alone to the Chalice Well, the sacred well of the Goddess, and meditated. I was visited by my spirit mentor who allowed me to see into a parallel dimension occurring simultaneously with ours. In this world, the old Goddess circles and temples still stood, and Her priestesses and Druids still served Her. I realized as I sat that the entire idea of enlightenment, of detachment to reach enlightenment, is really a patriarchal idea. I realized I have been ashamed of my depth of feeling and have been treating that part of me like something shameful, something to be changed. As I gazed into the waterfall, I realized that immersion, going completely and totally into my life, emotions, and experiences - that is enlightenment, being able to come from a place of such peace and joy that comes from truly knowing yourself, truly committing to life - that is truly living. Not detachment or being empty, but immersion until I am completely full, completely at one.

The next afternoon, LuAnne and I climbed the Tor, in an experience where I cleared myself out, becoming like a mist, a clear glass of water from the well. When we lost our way, not knowing which path to take, the sheep and cows grazing on the Tor would make eye contact and then lead us. It was a truly mystical, kinesthetic experience.

The next day we drove to Cornwall, and all of the preparation of the previous days jelled and changed my life. The first stop was at a chapel and holy well in the wilderness of the countryside. I knew something would happen here that would change me forever.

I was almost euphoric. We hiked out across the wild moors to the chapel. Everything was wet and lushly green. My spirit soared here, every step a confirmation, a communion, with nature. For the first time on the trip, I was truly happy and at peace.

We snaked through the wet grass, a river nearby, spiraling and fast. There was an outcropping of rocks where I saw two hawks teaching their babies to fly. When I reached the chapel, I stopped by a lovely fern-filled well, then went into the darkened chapel and sat on one of two benches which lined the walls. I entered a state which was wonderful, ecstatic. As I opened my chakras, my body dissolved. I became my energetic body - physical boundaries became indistinct and muted.

I let myself dissolve and become Her. It was amazing and like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I don’t know how long I stayed in the chapel, and was reluctant to leave. As we left, I received the message, “Look around up on the hill.” I started looking on the ground and then it happened - they lay spread out at my feet, a field of bones - sheep bones. I was breathless. The beautiful white bones on the very green moist grass seemed unreal. I received another message to choose some of the bones, the hip bones especially. As I gathered them, I heard in my head, “You are the Keeper of the Bones.” I felt honored but I had no idea what it meant.

The others had come back from the river and were heading back to our van. I followed in the rear. I decided to walk up to the cliff I had seen the hawks flying over. I searched the rocky area for them, but there was no sign. I turned around and there lay before me another field of bones, this time mainly spine bones. I gathered three and realized I was standing in a sheep graveyard. They had come to the place of their ancestors to die.

I felt like I was in a different dimension. Colors were brighter, I felt light as I walked to the van.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a haze, and as we drove on, heading for the tip of the Cornish peninsula, I felt completely transformed. I had no idea what responsibility had been handed to me with the bones, no idea where we were going or what we would find there.

To be continued.....