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Journey With Jaala
Contributed by
karl_wiggins
on
Sunday, 7th March 2004 @ 07:03:56 PM in AEST
Topic:
spiritual
|
I was seven years old at the time
and I believed in the magic of stones, trees and water.
I still do
as a matter of fact
although I'm closer now to seventy than seven.
Nothing I learned in school, church or work
has ever persuaded me otherwise.
My mother first saw my father's reflection
while glancing in a mirror on Halloween.
She was eating an apple at the time
and was alone in the room.
She told me that she walked straight out of doors backwards
gathered a white rose
and placed it between two sheets of cotton.
She didn't look at it again until Christmas Day,
and being a wise one
was unsurprised to find it still fresh.
She wore it close to her heart
and met my father in the flesh for the first time that day.
You may not believe this tale
and that's your prerogative
but whether you believe it or not
the truth is still the truth
and belief
or faith for that matter
has nothing to do with it.
I grew up as a quiet boy who had the whole world as his backyard.
My mother
who was a pink witch
taught me never to believe anyone who claimed to be a witch.
My father
who came from Irish Traveller stock
taught me about horses and dogs.
He also taught me how to remain silent
and watch other people closely
He said I'd learn a lot more by listening to what people said
and watching what they did
than I ever would by telling them what I could do myself.
He was right, of course.
With this pedigree
it's hardly surprising that I could read faces before I could read words,
Or that subconsciously
I was always searching for my "manitou".
Even at seven years of age
I understood that the mountains carried the wisdom of long-gone generations
yet the murmurings one often hears in the silence of the night confused me.
And then I met Jaala.
It was in October
the big chestnut month
and the river was a gentle place
with a lush forest of ferns on either bank.
Jaala appeared as I sat trying to force the river to hold its breath
the way it does when winter comes
and ice covers its surface.
She was just there
sitting quietly behind me
with long grey hair and flawless Native American skin.
If it wasn't for the shade of her hair
I would have guessed her to be about twenty.
Her eyes were the colour of topaz
and had flecks of jade in them
which sparkled when the autumn sun bounced off the water.
She was beautiful.
"Who are you?" I asked
hypnotized by the tranquil radiance in those eyes.
"My name is Jaala," she replied
smiling serenly.
"I'm the soul of the tree,"
and she indicated an old oak
on the opposite bank.
"The soul of the tree?"
"Yes."
"Do I have a soul?"
I asked
with the candour of a seven year old.
"You ARE a soul,"
she replied,
"A bird of white waters
who hears silences others are unaware of.
"I'm not a bird."
"Yes, you are a bird,"
she said,
"and you will learn how to open the door of your cage at will.
Limitless horizons are yours to own
as they are everybody's
but the illusion of the fettered foot
holds too strong in most."
It was to be several years
before I grasped that I wasn't supposed to understand what she meant.
At least not at a conscious level.
Yet even then
at seven years of age
somewhere in the heather and the hills of my heart
a wild magnificent sensation took wing.
Changing the subject
and getting away with it
as only a small boy can
I asked, "Do you get lonely?"
"No, of course not," she laughed,
"I have my lover."
"Your lover?"
"Yes.
He is an old Shaman dancer
and is the soul of that tree over there,"
she said indicating another oak.
"With the first wind of morning
our branches touch
and we caress the energy of each other."
They were the only two oaks I could see
in a forest of lodgepole pines.
"But," I asked
never for a moment doubting that she told the truth
"Doesn't a tree die if you leave it?"
"No, of course not," she chuckled
sounding more like wind chimes than laughter
"The tree still breathes
whether I choose to stay or not.
"You've been sitting here
trying to persuade the river to hold its breath
and the one thing that prevents you succeeding
is your own fear
that somehow this will harm the river.
"When you hold your breath
the rest of your body
continues to live beneath the surface.
Cells continue to migrate and relocate
with the changing seasons of your body
and after as long a winter as you can hold
the spring of your next big breath
brings life
and a healthy glow
to the surface.
"It's the same with the river
and it's the same with a tree.
"You leave your tree often as well
only you don't remember it.
Every night you fly
and every morning you return.
The trick
is to do it while you're awake.
"Mind you
some souls
don't return to their trees
But of course
that doesn't stop the tree breathing.
It carries on for many years
in a pointless battle
between decisions
it has not chosen for itself.
The worst evil of all
is to leave the ranks of the living
while your body still survives.
"Shame on those souls
but it truly is their choice."
She was silent after that
and all you could hear
were the insects playing their melody
and the soft
gentle lapping
of the water.
I didn't know what to make of it all
so I kept quiet too.
There was something calming about her presence
as if her hushed pace
was a choice made long ago.
Serenity moves faster
when it's going backwards.
After a while
I don't know how long
she said, "Sometimes my branches get very heavy
Too many acorns perhaps
You have many acorns on your tree too."
"I do?"
"Yes
Everyone does
That's why we're all here
Not to learn such strength
to enable us to hold all our acorns
but to learn how to drop them from the branches at will.
"You don't have to carry them everywhere you go, you know.
Let's leave them for a while, shall we?"
I nodded, speech seeming superfluous.
"Look into my eyes
and feel the wind on your face."
Those topaz-coloured eyes came right at me
and almost immediately
I became aware
of the light breeze
coming off the water.
"Drift into the wind
on Indian dreams
and listen to the silence …..
a silence full of sounds.
Remember
it takes a very long time to become young.
And as you look into my eyes
you may realize
that you can smell
all manner of things …..
the river
the grass
the earth
the flowers …..
throwing their fragrance at you.
"And the air pushes you around."
I started to feel light-headed
and it was hard to keep her eyes in focus.
It was a pleasant feeling, though
and I was enjoying the sensation of being pushed around by the air.
"The perfume of an autumn day
ripples through your imagination
like magic …..
and as nature talks to you in this way
the water follows its ancient path
from the river source
Its journey filled with the music
of colourful birds …..
listening to the wind playing in the trees …..
looking into the mirror of your soul …..
smelling the true fragrance of freedom."
I was drifting now
So many colours and sounds and smells
I didn't know what to concentrate on
"Your reality is created by your inner being,"
I could hear her saying
"There is no situation you cannot change
You have an ancient culture in your veins ….."
And everything floated into one after that.
She spoke to my subconscious
for what seemed like hours
although it can't have been that long.
I was just happy
to watch the pictures
that appeared unbidden
in my mind.
I watched trees
tossing their branches in the wind
They were so free
I saw a sacred medicine wheel
and Jaala was standing beside it
She told me that Wolf Spirit
would make me more dynamic
and that the Eagle stood for illumination and wisdom
She said that Buffalo wisdom brought good luck
and the Grizzly Bear was to remind me
to be gentle with myself
I entered a Shaman's cave
and was told that the Eagle
saw the largest perspective of life.
I was given a red leaf
and could hear Jaala singing
reminding me
of a long-forgotten dream …..
a race of people
who originated from the stars …..
whispering to me through the wind.
And the world went by somewhere else.
Jaala had disappeared as quickly as she came
and it was to be ten years before I saw her again
although sometimes I imagined
I could feel her presence.
I spent hours resting under the two oaks
That was my private place
and I gained a quiet strength there.
I've since come to realize
that the strength was always inside of me
and I took it with me
wherever I went.
The oaks just focused it
in the same way Christians use an alter to focus their prayers
or West Africans use a juju charm to protect their tomorrows
There's little difference.
At seventeen years of age
my body had a shy sturdiness to it
and my relexes were fast
I was more at home on the back of a horse
or in the water
than I was on my own two feet.
I was swimming naked in the river
enjoying the refreshing coldness of it
challenging its power
as I wrestled the ever-changing ebb and flow of current
when I next saw Jaala …..
….. But that's another story.
Copyright ©
karl_wiggins
... [
2004-03-07 19:03:56]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Journey With Jaala
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Sunday, 7th March 2004 @ 07:20:37 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
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It is so fulfilling and comforting. Like my Morning Star.
Rita |
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