Sailing the Lookfar

The other day I had the urge reread a small book I read for the first time 6 or 7 years ago, Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Tombs of Atuan, the second book in the Earthsea trilogy. Arha is “The Eaten One,” a girl priestess taken from her family at the age of 5 to serve the “Dark Ones”, a great power under the Earth, expressed in bedrock, devoid of life.

Arha and Penthe, by artist Kaysha Siemens

Our hero from the first book, Sparrowhawk, Ged, is, of course, on a quest for the other half of a Ring. It lives somewhere deep in the labyrinth where the Dark Ones rule. That is where Arha finds him, shining his small light, in a place where light never shines, searching. His light shows her the glory of the cavern whose turns she known by heart but has seen only as blackness. She is awed and terrified. She traps him there, telling herself that she will kill and punish him, soon, but we know she will not. Her curiosity tells the reader that something is stirring in her heart.

Photo by Robert Thiemann on Unsplash

Arha is truly Tenar, a girl beloved by her mother, taken, convinced her destiny is to live in servitude to dark forces, forces that demand blood sacrifice, in a place with no life, and that she has no choice. When Sparrowhawk appears, his wise face, his deep scars, his ability to create light, all take her out of herself and back to herself. She leads him and allows herself to be led.

They find themselves at the sea, she has never seen it before. Sparrowhawk has his boat there, safely tucked away. They must sleep on cold, hard sand to avoid detection. They set sail in the morning and he raises the sail of his trusty skiff, The Lookfar.

Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash

Arha, now restored to her true self, Tenar, is afraid and fearful. She contemplates taking Sparrowhawk’s life one last time before they set sail. She no longer knows where she belongs. All she has is her trust in him.

As they set sail for what will be her new life, she reconciles herself with the life that was, and her new freedom, and she weeps. She weeps for who she has been, and at what cost. She weeps for becoming truly alive, and what that will mean.

They sail over the open sea, both by magic and starlight, wind and will. They sail towards the place she will call her home, now that she has brought it peace. She sails for her new destiny. In taking Sparrowhawk’s hand, she leads herself out to her new life.

Photo by Josué AS on Unsplash

May we see the light that shines unexpectedly in the dark places. May we follow and nurture and trust it. May we question our allegiances and trust our hearts. May we resurrect and worship the true lights of this world. May we trust and love and caretake our vulnerability like the first leaves of Spring. May we see what no longer serves like the leaves of winter, becoming Earth. Life renews, life becomes, life continues.

Natural Laws Rule us by Christi Belcourt

I'm Pointing To My Heart

I read a Rilke poem this morning, and was struck by the phrase “Heart of the World.” It inspired the piece of writing that follows. I hope it can be of benefit to you during this time.

Like you, all of my emotional and personal resources are being called upon to process what we are going through collectively at this time, and to face the situation without panic. It might seem counter-intuitive, but learning to sit with uncertainty is key right now. There are invitations to panic as well as to gloss-over what is happening. What we know for sure is that this moment, when time seems broken, is the beginning of a new time. A time when humans in the white world have begun to truly feel what we are doing to the Earth. We are receiving a strong correction.

It is important not to minimize this moment. It is important to not lose the opportunity of this moment by finding ways that it is going to “be okay.” Inside our hearts is a gift if we are brave enough to find it, and the Earth is presenting us with an opportunity to let go of the pain of pretending that everything is just fine.

We can choose to be present with what is, the fact that everything is not just fine and hasn’t been for some time. And we can breathe. And then somehow the sound of the birds sweeten, and our hearts swell with love for those we are close to. I encourage you to feel into this moment. To breathe. To let it take you. As Rilke says (with some of my own translation):

So like children, we begin again
to learn from these things,
because they are in the heart of the Tao;
they never left.

This is what the things can teach us:
to fall,
patiently to trust our heaviness.
Even a bird has to do that
before they can fly.

The Heart of our world

Photo by Ifan Bima on Unsplash

Is now when the ignoring stops, as we are pulled towards the heart of our world?
We panic — things are changing!
Meanwhile, my heart is loving more than it has been allowed for so long.

Start here, in place.
Start here, here…
I’m pointing to my heart.
Start there, in your heart.

Photo by Paweł Czerwiński

It won’t be easy… things are sharp and broken there.
And there are abandoned children and caged animals and all those creatures who haunt your dreams.
You may have forgotten them, and they might have given up on you ever seeing.

In dreams, if you even go there anymore, you just spend time terrifying each other.
But that feeling you feel in your dreams, that feelings that is so strong?
There is your truth, there is what is real:

Great sorrow and pain.
Sadness and grief.
Elation, joy, relief.

They are all there inside of you, and now our Earth calls to your Earth,
calls you to have the courage to feel.

This is what you have been getting ready for all these years, reading about liberation.

This is the missing piece: feel your own pain.

Feel the grief of disconnection.

Feel your way home.

For you are the heart of our world.

Photo by Purnomo Capunk

Finding Refuge

I have been studying astrology lately, and have been very interested in understanding my moon in Pisces. All my life I have been “an Aries”, which fit but also didn’t, especially around what helped me fill up and feel energized in life. Understanding my moon has validated my tendency to take time to myself on the weekends; to love my friends, but relish time to myself; as well as my insatiable curiosity about the deep and liminal experiences of life.

As we head into Pisces season and Mercury goes into retrograde as well, I feel invited into a ‘trust fall’ into the arms of my inner world and the depths of my own feelings, an invitation to take this time to raise up above all else my relationship with my inner Self, my Heart, my inner Children, my Soul.

For me this means taking pressure off of myself to move forward and instead to lean into the healing waters of Pisces. It means taking care of my body, my energy, and the truth that lives deep inside of me.

This is a time for letting the moon lead us, for facing fears and letting go. This is a time for self-forgiveness. This is a time for leaning into our knowledge and trusting. As I’m writing, I’m reminded of the feeling of being gently moved through water while being held by someone else, so that the water is swirling around but you are held and safe.

What are the things in your life that steady you, help you feel nourished and calm?

How can you be more honoring of your deepest truths, not by taking action but by being with yourself no matter what?

What parts of your life journey do you want to discard because you feel shame or simply want to forget them? How can you accept and honor everywhere you have been so that you can be free for where you are going?