Scripting the Entrance to the North

I’ve been at the gates of the North for a while.  There have been many diversions, things to attend to, resistance to unravel.

Our circle didn’t meet for a good few weeks as these threads of new jobs, relocations, changed plans and shadow dancing were worked through. Are worked through.  Process is always unfolding. I get this. When our circle finally met, it was sweet, a reminder of the value of a cohort rooted in mutual commitment to truth, and the diversity of how truth manifests.  What was clear in our meeting was my resistance to scripting a new story.  Like I wasn’t wanting to let go of the old one yet, or needed more information to make a new one.   Can’t say I’m fully out the woods of these fears, and holding on stubbornly to the old storylines.  But damn, I’m noticing them playing out.  I can see the trees even as I tremble beneath them.  She moves through, anyway.

There’s an agreement here that I break when I move on. The one that says I need to know everything.  Gulp.
Finally I do. Move on. Into the entrance of the North. I call on helpers because when I break the agreement named above, I can open up to assistance. For me right now, this is the support and insight of the circle, the strong home-girl compassion of the deities who speak to me, retreat into time alone and consultation with a fresh version of the I Ching (a dear old friend and guiding hand through many turning points).

I script.

This week I move with a light and slow touch. I perform my roles as mother, worker, partner, sister, friend, daughter, writer and thesis reviser with care, attention and a  joyfully playful mind.

I notice when I compare myself with others. Even little things; the seemingly inconsequential. I note the effect this has on how I do the  things that matter to me.  What forms of censorship I impose. What is suppressed.  What I do instead. I write down these observations as I go about my business, do my work.

I do this to identify what my truth is.

This practice assists me in locating and living by this truth, inhabiting it rather than being led by speculation about the ‘truth’ I think others may expect from me.

I live and respond and take action from this still point. I stay watchful. Keeping meticulous notes frequently helps me in this, because any kind of research is assisted by reflective record keeping on the job.

I travel with pen and paper.

I awaken my light.

I discover my truth.

Bring on the week….  looking North.


Echidna calls!

Unexpected totem, coming up from the Underground

Clinging to this excavation of truth

Protecting the fragile shoots

Of new creation’s completion

She, being a home-girl and fully grounded

Focuses on detail, unafraid


A sepia-tinted Bree St, Fordsburg side

Washed up on the River, Southside

She knows that these flows must be sifted systematically


Till the stability of the patterns emerge

Anchored in the harbour

Warm burrow in the storm

Sweet and fierce warrior

Lover of Home