Only The Brave Find Hope..

As we've entered Beltane, the fire ceremony honoring Belenus, the sun god of the Celts- a time of purification through fire. Whilst in Belgium in early April, the terrip pictured here bid me honor it with honey and song and thus I did. But not any song, the one that the very Earth there gave me to sing in old Celtic. As I poured honey in the four directions, joyfully singing the song given, I didn't realize nearly a month on now from that week how my life would accelerate and me with it. Like the tides carrying the sand of the shore out to sea - I came home to me in Belgium in full Adventurer regalia - ordained by my ancestors as the "Lady Shackleton" of her people. The one who will be like Arya Stark and go "where all the maps stop. That's where I'm going."

In 2015, my mother called me crying after the unfortunate passing of my step-father's sister- alone. "You're always alone," I distinctly recall her saying through her tears. That brings such comfort to me now at 50 years of age. How this woman, this vessel that brought me here, had finally SEEN me. Yes, dear reader, I do walk solo in Midgard, I walk where angels dare to tread, but think not for a single nanosecond that I am alone, EVER.

I reflect back on being abandoned - I know so many would not believe it, this child, blonde-haired and blue-eyed - the epitome of genetic excellence in the eyes of Eugenicists and Nazis - and yet... I tell you truly thus - I was abandoned by all but my elders in my mother's line. It has been them that I carried through my ancestral healing process - the lies, sex, and videotape as it were - I needed to shrink to survive - to be still - to be unseen, unheard, and even, unthought of. And survive, and now thrive I am.

The title of this piece, Only The Brave Find Hope, the inspiration from Above & Beyond's masterful EDM piece with Oceanlab in Another Chance. I say it, dear reader, with my entire chest, only the brave find hope. To be anchored and moored to ancestral remembrance, agony, and misery - the 9 days and nights that my beloved Padrino hung upon Yddgrasil. The crime against Mimir, the ancestral agony before the song of Freya. That's what has been shared with me - her singing the runes into being as she clanged the femurs of some unknown (extinct?) animal together and tossing them. Perhaps it was the femur bones of the auroch - neither she nor Odin has ever said to me - and it matters not. They shared an intimate initiation - and for that I am eternally grateful and quite frankly in their debt. It is rare that one's instructors are gods - my gratitude is enough.

The new moon in Taurus that just occurred, my patron rune is Algiz, the rune my drum bid me draw upon it with lavender oil - a complex rune with the Elk and the Swan. Further, as we are passing through the realm of Beltane, the grandmother that has stepped forward is Eihwaz - the rune of the spine, the mountain - Skadi - the mother of Freya and Freyr. I unabashedly say I venerate Skadi and Freya as a mother-daughter pair. In fact, that's how the old Northern gods came to me anyway. Through ancestral veneration - as I venerate my ancestors, I also venerate their gods. The gods of my ancestors are my gods also - I am their living representative - it is only correct - it is fitting. In fact, I have stupefied my teachers in Peru with this - and to that I must say - Pachamama is always trying to get us to laugh.

To step into the land of ancestral veneration is not for the faint of heart - you MUST be as prepared for what comes as one does for ceremony with ayahuasca. Secrets, stories, gods, and goddesses can all appear in your field - when the love is pure and unconditional - thus the fires of Beltane. When I light a salt fire in my home, there is but one utterance I say - the teachings of Christ from Mark 9:49: "And all shall be salted by FIRE." It is a commandment in my home when I light this- there is no negotiation - even for ME - I would not utter a command for anything that I am unwilling to undergo or endure myself. That is folly - AKA spiritual bypassing (Starbucks spirituality) and I've had enough of that bullshit in this lifetime to last an eternity.

In fact, I often command that I be tried and tested - how else am I to ascend to the heights of the Empress in the tarot- all four Queens in one - the Magician and the High Priestess combined. You can not-you will not. In that, there's a fire ceremony -the 42 Laws of Ma'at - I wish to offer publicly in the future. You do not need to get intricate with the details - it is the confession itself that matters - and it matters to the flame in which you offer it. As I type this, I hear an ice cream truck (probably unknowingly) playing the tune of E.M. Barlett's Camping in Canaan's Land.

In ancestral veneration, you will NOT be asked to abandon anything that serves you - in fact, many times before my ancestral altar I sing the Southern Baptist hymns of my youth - or even better, Christmas songs (they're my favorite). The trauma I endured one Christmas at the hands of those who would not see, would not hear, would not relent to the season was immeasurable - yet I am still here - still curious, still loving, still brave enough to find hope. Whilst in Belgium we practiced precipitously the teaching of Mark 18:20 - "For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." I tell you, truly dear reader, this spans something far beyond the reach of human consciousness.

So if you are ready, step into your ancestral practice and know that there are two or more gathered together - for I have been and am where you are today.

I leave you with E.M. Barlett's Camping in Canaan's Land - for we are all sojourning through an incredible experience. Get your hiking gear in order...

I have left the land of bondage with its earthly treasures
I've journeyed to a place where there is love on every hand
I've exchanged the land of heartaches for a land of pleasure
I'm camping, I'm camping, in Canaan's happy land

Every day I'm camping (camping) in the land of Canaan (Canaan)
And in rapture I survey its wondrous beauty grand (oh, glory)
Glory, hallelujah (I have) found the land of promise
(And I'm) camping, I'm camping, in Canaan's happy land

Yes, I've reached the land of promise
With its scenes of glory
My journey ended in a place
So lovely and so grand
I've been led by Jesus to this blessed land of story
I'm camping, I'm camping in Canaan's happy land

Every day I'm camping (camping) in the land of Canaan (Canaan)
And in rapture I survey its wondrous beauty grand (oh, glory)
Glory, hallelujah (I have) found the land of promise
(And I'm) camping, I'm camping, in Canaan's happy land
I'm camping, I'm camping, in Canaan's happy land