tangled.

alignments.

by Savannah Skye

Earth as Body become Me
Air as Life breathe through Me
Fire as Spirit consume Me
Water as Blood flow through Me
Spirit as Guide lead Me

visiting.

when i open my eyes i am standing barefoot on cold wooden planks, a bridge laid across a coursing glacial stream. it jumps and tumbles down the rocks, a vertical joyous roar cutting down the mountain toward me and under me and away. i am bathed in spray and sound.

to my left, the cedar forest, tall and dark and fragrant, the home of deer and spirits i never glimpsed but believed in all the same.

to my right, the path.

my path, and i step off onto it.

packed dirt under my feet colder than the boards of the bridge, it hugs the waterfall and leads up the slope sharply. i climb it until it curves away from the cascade and stream. twin aspen guard the way, a wild mountain torii. i can smell blackberry leaves, and like a bear i am drawn forward.

i climb the mountain, forest always around me. pine and aspen and cottonwood, but also oak, and birch and hawthorn and hazel and maple. i walk in a pine wood and a rain forest and a farmland copse, and always upward, always my feet padding on the smooth dark earthwork path.

i cross streamlets, i eat blackberries and salmonberries, i kiss trillium and walnut leaf. bird chatter in high branches accompanies me, a mule deer stops and gazes at me, small ones pace me in the undergrowth and leaf litter. i look out into the tree depth and it is barry with golden light and green shade.

but the path leads upward, so i do not stop, do not explore. it has come to my understanding that i have an appointment.

and then, a second torii, two immense trunks flanking the path. large enough to be redwoods, but with silver smooth bark, and a high canopy. beyond them, a wide meadow, an oval wild garden of tall grasses and wildflowers, sunlit and filled with song.

i enter.

it is beautiful, and warm, and sweet -- a safe space, an oasis hidden on the side of the mountain, cloistered by pine arcades. i wander, my soul sipping in contentment. i believe i amble without design, but of course, i am still led, and soon enough, i am within sight of a small green jewel of a knoll. there are figures upon it. a woman and a man, and they are waiting for me.

i know them. silver moon and golden sun, soft embrace and burning kiss, weaver of life and dancer in death: sweet lady and smiling lord. she sits all calm and grace, her dress never quite still and stars in her midnight hair. he is cross-legged and grinning, and the scent of amber and blackberry leaves is his. there is a sparkle and a wink in his eyes which must be responded to, but i am too shy to look so boldly up into her face. i can feel her kind indulgent archaic smile, though, and it is more than enough. it is all my heart needs.

i walk toward them.

i sit at their feet.

and i am in a holy place.