Journey to the Horned Folk

I walked down a stone staircase in a forest. I could hear birds all around me, it was dark and warm.

The staircase was long and straight. It kept going deeper and deeper down

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, it opened into a semi-circle clearing with a large body of water, moss-like green and glowing. The room was humid and there were beings with horns all around me.

I was afraid of the horns, they told me it was a product of conditioning- that the devil was given horns so anytime we see beings with horns we get afraid. They said that it was all ego; that it wasn’t real. They also told me that the hardship I had been suffering emotionally was also only that of ego. I agreed.

They took me to table that had cards laid out. These cards had animals on them and were not anything I had ever seen before. One of the cards had a set of eyes. They asked me if I could see; I said yes I could. They told me that if I could see the eyes that was all the proof I needed- I had sight.

They sent me down into the water. It was dark blue now and I was sinking down to the depths. There was a flowing grass-like being at the bottom. It was dancing with the water and it had eyes. It told me that I was young for the old ones. I agreed. It told me that again. I agreed again. The sound of this circular exchange echoed for a while. It shared with me that I was here to grow- to get my wings in a sense. I thought about the illusions of “old souls” and how everyone wants to be an old soul, but old souls are forged from the rocks of pain.

Emerging from the deep, I was with the horned folk again. I noticed now how beautiful they were. They were adorned in the most beautiful and ornate jewelry. They had bejeweled garland surrounding their horns and around their necks.

A female healer approached me and offered me a healing. She laid me down on a table and placed her hands on me. I could feel energy realigning, I could feel the songs of birds in my throat. I wanted to merge with her, become her.

When she was finished, I bowed low in gratitude to the horned folk, to the blade of sea grass, to the magic of this divine place, to myself- and I began my return back.

White noise of the mind

The mist of the mind is laced with songs and words and cyclones of feelings

The barren wasteland of the mind’s deserted battleground holds sadness and great desolation. Like the cave of wounds dark shadows line the periphery lamenting their lost (laces)

I visit the mists of my mind- dark and shadowy- to find a way to bring quiet to the raging places.

I visit the dark mist of my mind to hear the echoes, to embrace them- fear and all- so I may no longer be afraid- so I may find peace with them.

The lace of mist within and beneath my consciousness links me to the whole- for in venturing through it I see the light that shines betwixt the misty cracks of darkness- for in opening my heart-and stepping through it- I begin understanding that the misty land of noise is but a corridor to a larger room- bathed in gold and white.

I follow the thread back through the musty darkness of white noise to find this self patiently waiting, expectant and faithful.

I return with a deeper empathy for my present. I Am, I Am, I Am