lundi 6 avril 2015

Spring Equinox Healing

Some of you may remember that my favourite place to reconnect with my wild side is my “secret garden” on the Mont-Royal.

Since I can’t bike through snow-covered streets, in winter it takes me a good hour just to reach the bottom of the hill, waiting for several buses (plus another half-hour of plodding uphill). This winter was so intense – weather-wise and otherwise – that I was unable to go there at all, so our Spring Equinox reunion was all the more powerful.

The equinox itself is a beautiful mystery to me, as is the Earth’s axial tilt. In 2015, the Vernal Equinox took place in conjunction with the New Moon and a total solar eclipse… All together, these events were apparently opening an auspicious window, inviting us to envision our wishes for the future.

The light was very soft when I entered the cemetery, but soon a clearing in the clouds allowed the sun to say hello.

I think this is something you can do whenever you have a strong sense of connection and alignment with both your intention and the world around you, preferably in a place that sustains this feeling.

On March 20th, when I realized that this conjunction of events was happening on my day off, there was no stopping me. (And during the past two days, the snow and ice had melted just enough in the streets for biking :o)

On the left: tracks of a small-footed person, whose coat was trailing in the snow :o)

When I left the path to walk through the deep snow towards my familiar place, the slant of the sun through the remaining clouds underlined the rolling hills and the bare trees in a beautiful, contrasted scenery: a perfect setting for celebrating the return of the light.

The previous night's tracks had melted a little in the morning so they were blurry,
but I think they were Raccoon's (and a Marmot's)

My friend the Rowan tree, who is an inspiring companion up there whenever I am drawing, meditating, dreaming, or simply soaking up the present moment, was patiently waiting for me. 

The Rowan's undulating branches enchant me - here in their early June's vibrant incarnation.

Her bark is also inspirational, soft and strong, shimmering with green, bronze, orange and red.

All around us, the light was suffused with hope and tenderness, and with a deep sense of renewal. I hugged the Rowan in gratitude and awe: the fresh scent of her bark, the slow rush of sap I could hear underneath, were unexpectedly exhilarating. 

I have just looked up on the Web what the Rowan's symbolism sounds like, and she is apparently the perfect tree for reconnecting with your wild child – your creative, intuitive self – particularly when you have been denying this wild child for a while.

“Using meditation, Rowan is helpful with clearing the mind and opening our inspiration. The Essence of Rowan is used in vibrational medicine to assist in attuning us to nature, broadening perspectives, and making room for a deeper understanding of our place here in the universe.  It also has a significant role in protection.”

There was a wonderful lightness in the air, carried by each scintillating wave of the hill below, that made me dizzy with relief. I was myself again – free to dance wherever my wild child would lead me. 

And for now, that was enough. Somehow, I knew that once reclaimed, free from external influences or from old patterns, my intuition would help me find each following step, whenever the time was right. 

So I simply made a solemn promise to do just that, from now on. 

I said it in a smiling voice, to the hill and to the Rowan tree, to the sun and to the wind, to the light and to the shadows. 

Chrysocolla, Chrysoprase, Fire Agate, Lapis-Lazuli and Petrified Wood.
Interestingly, the Petrified Wood kept sliding through my fingers towards the Rowan's roots.

I said it to my open palm, where I had placed a few stones to help me remember this promise, the way I did effortlessly last summer.

I know. This is my true self, radiant and at peace. I won't forget her again.

Then I playfully climbed down the hill: it would have been safer to retrace my steps to the path, but symbolically it was important for me to go ahead in fresh snow, which I did by venturing across the slope below me. This time, the snow reached up to the hem of my skirt. 


The Wild Thyme Fairies were fortunately my only witnesses, and they probably had some fun ;o)

and after. My boots were so packed with snow (as you can see) that I was unable to take them off.
I eventually managed to remove most of the snow by sliding my hand inside each boot...

And then I biked home, shivering for having remained in the cold a bit too long, but feeling as hopeful and brave as a freshly opened crocus popping up from the barely warmed-up earth.

Indigo and purple stars lighting up the bare land.

When the First Quarter Moon appeared in the sky, a few days later, I understood that I had to keep my promise lighted up, every day – thanks to meditation and writing, drawing and dancing, but also through my interactions with the world.

If your purest promise to your soul is alive in the way you look around you, in the way you listen to others, in the way you talk to them, then it will be carried back to you, enriched by these encounters, and it will strengthen your resolve.

You are my witnesses, dear readers and friends  :o)


4 commentaires:

  1. Petit soleil...

    Te lire réenchante le monde.

    Merci, so much, you made my day !
    If only I could travel and be next to you right now, just by blinking my eyes, I would.
    Lot's of lot's of lot's of love.

    1. Merci douce Marianne, moi aussi j'aimerais bien pouvoir me téléporter là où tu es…

      Et je t'aime fort !

  2. What a wonderful thing to do on the Equinox, connecting with nature & your dreams, setting intentions & casting them out to the universe to take hold of, form & return to you. The Equinox seems so long ago already, our days short & the nights dark & deep. I can feel us all settling into the season, beginning our hibernation, rumination, ready for the coming spring when she arrives. Your days must surely be lighter & brighter, the snow melted perhaps? What a beautiful secret garden you have over there. Love and light to you dear Emmanuelle. xxC

    1. Dear Chontelle, I've just discovered your latest post on forest and farm, bush and sea, and your pictures bring tears to my eyes.

      Here we've had our first taste of spring in the last few days only, and while it's still rather cold at night, the sun is indeed shining much later in the day! Snow has melted everywhere but my secret garden is still white I think - I haven't been there recently because of too much work. I hope I can visit the Rowan, the Raccoons and the Fox tomorrow! And a new post is coming on Sunday :o)

      I'll be back soon in your own world too, it's always such a delight to immerse myself into it. Much love to you Chontelle, my friend across the world xo