On the eve of the January Blue Moon and just before Imbolc, I found myself in a conversation with my wyrd sister Tonya. As we spoke, the topic of transformation and emergence came to light, and I felt my muse fluttering inside my breast, straining against the cocoon of human skin that my soul has chosen in this life. The soul of a butterfly resides within my heart and my beautiful wings move slowly in tune with my heartbeat. I sometimes feel that I’m a cross between a butterfly and dragonfly…each different yet the same. Each an avatar for transformation and change. I have a special affinity to dragonflies as they have appeared in points of my life that mark the beginning of change and growth. But the butterfly also speaks to me with its fragility and short lifespan. Each a lesson within itself. This thought brings to mind some of my old writings about transformation. The Lady Within, the first step on this journey, it was part of the tapestry of my wyrd and soul revealing. I find myself constantly circling my Nordic roots. But I find myself sorely lacking on knowledge of such, I just have a knowing of things. I feel inadequate to others who boast more wisdom than me and that feeling of not measuring up plagues me like a persistent mosquito, constantly buzzing around my ear. I’m trying hard to let go of these feelings but find that it is an uphill battle, sometimes a step backward when I allow it to take up space in my head for long periods of time.
Last night’s ritual was about letting go of some of these insecurities and I feel a little lighter but still trudge on, keeping my inner Valkyrie in my back pocket just in case I need her to fight through those thought patterns. So, I move on and keep a positive frame of mind and live my life, seeing where my errant inner child takes me. Sometimes she takes me on fun adventures, sometimes not so fun. The not so fun adventures usually mean I must reflect inward and flit among the shadows that emerge. I must confront those insidious truths that I really don’t want to hear. They are necessary for my spiritual growth.
A wisp of a poem finds its way to my fingers as I type these words…
A cocoon glistened on the old oak tree
a butterfly with sparking wings rests inside
Waiting for its time to emerge from the confines of fate
Transforming and becoming in tune with the soul inside.
I end this entry with hope for the adventures to come, for the paths that are yet to be shown. For new and old friends to join my soul tribe. A merry wind blows me on this new course.
As always, I remain