Out of the Ashes

“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

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With the world currently still on fire along with droughts, I am struck by the biblical proportions of natural disasters related to fire and tornados along with the unnatural fires that 2017 brought us. That and the darkness that surfaced into the light of “me toos” and more recently what a healer friend is calling a descent into hell, for some anyway. In the Dagara cosmology of West Africa it is indeed a fire year, and one that has proved its weight, lest we question what that means. Not only does fire warm and transform it also as we know burns to ashes. It is also said that what is left ( the ash)  is the closest to the ancestors. It is the darkness and the light, and as 45 brought darkness into 2017 he also shed light on the belly of the beast.

Does it then mean that after all our losses, including lives and for many, all their possessions, and the suffering of peoples and animals, we have had to reach the ultimate surrender – homelessness on so many levels, and from there does the transformation happen to change our lives forever? What a profound bitter sweet lesson of life.

My own home fires, have indeed shed light on the constant ringing in my ears this year of surrender, surrender. My current illnesses that shout “root cause, journey to the root” have lain side by side with me to show me that I am not sleeping with the enemy but that everyone has to have a place at my table in the ancestral legacies I carry. I am inextricably linked to them all….victims,  perpetrators, abusers, war-mongers, peacemakers, activists, criminals and law abiders, all are of my blood and all contribute to the root cause of my dis-ease. Until I acknowledge them along with all the do-gooders and goody goodies  in my ancestral legacy, I will continue to remain in the drought of the water of my life, where deeper murky waters will overshadow the clarity and flow I require to move forward. 

“Fear or rage is our survival in the world. When anything gets close to that terror the rage comes up to protect. Its a primal human characteristic, its the point of evolution and its the collective consciousness at this time. Now the option is to chose the  higher resonance of love. The fear has to though be  recognised, the fear and rage has to be surrendered.  See what is behind the animal nature, the survival instincts,  it disarms the survival extinct when you hand it over to the power greater than you and it deepens and entwines you to  great spirit. We are I believe all addicted to something, love, saving people, planet, substances, success, work, over giving, control, domination, our wounds, sex, food, fame,  when the addiction is no longer there we are left with the fear and the rage, leaving us to find a use for the ashes of our lives. 

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Put your ash to good use– literally and metaphorically, it scrubs clean, protects, neutralizes, fertilizers, keeps the bugs and leeches away……

When fire rages out of control there must be water close by to disarm it, extinguish it. Sweeps are important a lot of the time. Sweep away the old in what “remains of the ashes of this year” Head to crystal clear waters and bathe away all that sticks and clings to you. Find the pristine edges that bring a shimmering clarity that blinds you into seeing anew. We can no longer continue in this madness. Me first, me second and what ever is left me third.. I must have,  ravage, pillage and own is deep and dark and only ends in tears.

The 9 year old prophet I am blessed to share time with reminded me today of the “Art” of imagination  in an exquisite story he made up about father christmas who lived in the mountains in Muizenberg. He had me belly laughing and I fell in love with him yet again. I am brought back to a reality I think I forget too often. The Bushmen remind me of it when I dance with them. After a dance they tease each other mercifully, they even boast about how great they were in the dance, and it is a reminder to not take ourselves so seriously, it’s a reminder to get real! To transmute the ashes into compost that grows a flower.

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I watched a friend’s 3 year old play on his own for hours on end, another reminder that we have forgotten to play, to keep it simple, especially in these times, as it could be so easy to  descend into hell. So I am looking to the children to continue to  teach me, to nature to blind me  with its boundless beauty and my beloved ocean to sweep away all the ashes of the year. 2018 a Nature year —Transformation.

May all worlds bless and protect you always and may your new year be SUPERNATURAL.

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