FEATHER

The ancient Egyptians knew a lot about the transition from this world to the world after living. At the moment of death the heart is weighed by a being with the head of a Golden Wolf. Here’s the beauty… it was weighed against a feather… a Snowy Owl feather. If the heart was heavier than the feather there was no journey to the perfection of eternity. To be light-hearted… to carry no weight of sorrow… of Samsara… in the human heart… what a brilliant injunction. I finally received the message this week. The brain is not where the soul of man resides. The brain is simply the on-board computer that runs the vehicle of my body. It’s importance is all puffery. The memory in the fibres of my heart that is where the nidus of my soul lives. The heart is a pulsing toric electromagnetic field generator. & here is the irony…. to be free… spiritually free… it needs to be light as a Snowy Owl feather.

ONE FLAME

Have you, like me, not laid in the dark awake?

Have you, like me, not sought an abiding grace?

Have you, like me, not opened your inward eyes?

Have you, like me, not seen the ocean rise?

Can you discard your human skin, oh snake?

Can you not surf & crest on the prism wave?

Can you well up & spread like silver quick...

& then return to the flame of the single wick?

When you become your luminous self divine 

Return to the ebb & flow of timeless time.

The pearl resides beneath the sifting layers

& here is there & now is everywhere.

FIVE CIRCLES

SNOWY OWL

My deepest love is for the North….. the North & yes for Winter. My nation is Winter. The north defines every aspect of who I am. How to find a symbol to represent that deep, deep love. I saw a Snowy Owl once sitting silent in the middle of a great expanse of tundra up in the Arctic on Banks Island. That is who I am. The Snowy Owl. I stake that claim. I am powerful in solitude… in the depth of winter. I fly silent as a snow flake in an endless snow fall. I embrace Silence. I embrace the pure white of a field filled with snow. From that point of stillness Time itself never moves & never has moved &  every other possibility blossoms forth. Begin again at the beginning. Begin again. As always. It begins.