Blurring the Edges

As we move from one state to the next

Notes from the Forest Edge is a bi-monthly exploration of the liminal space between human and forest consciousness, rooted in a small forest farm in the Southern Appalachian mountains.

---

The clouds are moving fast, but down amongst the shelter of these tall standing ones, there is barely a breeze. I pause for a moment as the clouds are blown eastwards revealing the midday sun who reaches out to caress my face, whispering to me of warmth and bright flowers.

I am encapsulated in a glimmer of spring, my body opening to the potential of this emerging season with all its promise of life. But before I can sink in too deep the wind whips another bank of cloud across while sending down a tendril of cold air - I'm plunged back into winter. Contracting back down into the dark soil I move on, hoping for another sun burst.

In the land of my childhood, Scotland, this season between the seasons, is often captured in stories of great beings wrestling with each other. Across the mountains the old Cailleach fights against Bride's inevitable bright take over, while out on the northern isles the Sea Mither eventually defeats Teran the deadly tyrant of the winter seas. But it never goes smoothly, there's generally much back and forth, and always a moment, right before the end when, even though we know Spring must win, it seems that the death grip of winter just might not let go this time. There were times in the history of those lands, and these, when winter didn't let go for a long time. Its always a possibility.

As I watch the shadows leap across the mountain side I can't help but think of what is playing out on our public stage. The ongoing battle between the forces over power-over and power-with. I don't equate these with political parties, I understand them as energies that move through all of us. I feel them in myself, the desire to take over, to make it the way I want it without going through the process of hearing what others need. I also feel the desire to slow down, to listen, to seek consent, to trust the wisdom in all beings, to only move when then path clearly shows itself. Then comes the impatience to just make something happen, to just step in and do it.

On this huge mountain I stand in my fragile body while the world moves around me, sun, shadow, warm, cool and back again. What can I do? What can I do to not be ping-ponged between the extremes?

I can soften the edges between Winter and Spring, between one state and the next. As a cloud blows over I can stay a little more open, not needing to contract back so far because I can still taste the recent sunlight on my skin. When the cloud moves on and again I feel warmth I can maybe not leap so quickly into it with open arms, instead savor these last remnants of chill while simultaneously appreciating how good the sun feels. I know that six months from now, I'll be laying under a full canopy waiting for any morsel of moving air with a little cool to it.

For now, as the great forces of the old stories duke it out, I can blur my own edges, soften my rigid lines of what I think should be, lean back into the arms of the great mystery, and keep checking on the balance between power-over and power-with inside myself.

Sometimes, I realize, I just need to take my inner tyrant for a walk in the woods and remind it to be mindful of who we're stepping on while we sing to the earth worms, seeds, bulbs and mycelium in the rich soil of life.

---

Adventures in the Otherworld is an exploration of the non-ordinary including altered-states of consciousness, the beyond-human, ancestral connections and mythology.