Homecoming: Wolf and Goddess Once More

My man’s dead grandfather is calling him
Home to a farm in Minnesota.
A fleece of snow hides the scars of a tractor.
Ploughshare tracks of fate in his palm.
Ley lines, fey lines, bloodlines, ploughlines.
We lay in bed feeling the tug of the north.
The snowfall call of a land as mythical to me
As Avalon. The runes are cast,
This extradition will end. We will return to the soil.
Wergild has been paid, a homecoming is bought.
Light the heartfire and become who we are
Fated to be. Wolf and Goddess once more.

Preservation

‘Hunger, love, pain, fear are some of those inner forces which rule the individual’s instinct for self preservation.’ Albert Einstein

My initial response to the concept of preservation is it’s like an N.R.A approach – be willing to take a life in order to protect one. I have always believed that is utter crap. I have argued this on The Northlands I won’t go into it again except to give this summary and link:

The reason I hate guns is if we have got them we use them. I have had really fucking awful days when the thought of a quick and painless end to it all would have been attractive. Thank God I didn’t have a gun. I have had fucking awful days when I could have cheerfully blown my husband’s head off and done a happy dance in his pooling blood. Thank God I didn’t have gun. I strongly believe people do not have the right to bear arms… no matter what is says it says in your constitution.

It is also (as in the image I chose to illustrate this post) an illusion. A rose pressed into a Bible like a blood stain. How can a dead thing be considered preserved? The simulcrum is all that remains; the mammoth in the ice, a damp fossil. Take the DNA, create a new beast and what have you preserved ? A sense of man as god? Or a faker? Magician or illusionist?

So is preservation ever worthwhile? I think it is a subtle power. Culture preserves a sense of self and Faith a sense of Soul. We should be willing to die for something. If not the right to bear arms then maybe the right to lay them down.

Creation

I am going to take a line from yesterday’s blog post and use it as a starting point for the next five entries:

The dance is a pictorial allegory of the five principle manifestations of eternal energy — creation, destruction, preservation, salvation, and illusion.

Today, I will look at creation. This entry is adapted from a post I made in The Northlands. The original was rougher, more heartfelt, less artful maybe. But here I wear a partial mask. If you want to see the real me, then register at my home and read between those lines.

Anyway, enough – Creation:

My period is late so I wake up this morning I decide I might be (almost definitely) pregnant.

I lie in bed and share the joy of this discovery with Wolf (who is still asleep). Then I get up and take small dog (who shall remain nameless) outside to pee… as I stand in the garden watching the morning sun dapple the leaves I tell my parents, who are thrilled. Their first grandchild, and one they thought they would never have; though deep down I know my father wonders if he will live to see it born.

As I shower I visit doctors and hospitals and have scans that reveal I am having a boy who despite my advanced age is going to be perfect in everyway.

Perfect!

Getting dresssed, I astonish my work colleagues by being the most heroic pregnant boss the world has known. I rarely complain, take not one day sick and am still doing ten hour days during the ninth month. Of course I am a little overdue – this is my first (of many).

I give birth riding to work on the back of Wolf’s motorbike, our pup is born in a local hospital and I didn’t need a single drug. I am tired but beautiful as I gaze at our baby for the first time. I cry when Wolf holds him.

He is such a good baby that by my 10 o’clock coffee break he is sleeping through the night eating solid food, taking his first steps and saying mama (before dada of course). By 11 he has started school and he astonishes the teachers with his brilliance. By lunch my handsome little boy is reading books and using a computer, excelling in all subjects and girls are starting to fall for him (though it is ok if he is gay).

He graduates from high school at the end of lunch and spends a gap year volunteering in developing world orphanages before he goes to University.

I lose him here…

Maybe it is because the time has come for his mum to let him be his own man rather than the man of her dreams.

Maybe it is because it is about this time my period starts and I put this dream away for another month.

I know this is pathetic – but this is as close as I get to creation: art, literature and dreams, month after barren bloody month.