Willow Time

I had a journey during the Advanced Shamanic workshop that I attended last weekend that involved Willow. He's shown up a lot in my journeys, but we've never had much actual interaction. I sometimes visit him and spend time with him, and I meditated a couple of times underneath a weeping willow in Vancouver, but so far, our interaction has been slight.

Until Thursday night. That night, I went to the Lower World to specifically ask for a cleansing, readying dismemberment prior to doing extraction work, and to my surprise wordless Willow followed me. My power animal and Willow took me to the second lower world sanctuary where all of my guides had gathered, and when the circle was set and the fire lit, my power animal placed me on the stone table and Willow proceeded to tear into me with his roots, absorbing me and kneading my flesh. I felt myself being absorbed, rising into the tree, and suddenly, I *was* Willow.

Time is different when you're a tree. Time has less meaning. I had the freedom to observe, to just be. I could hear the sounds of the stars, and the ethereal wind between them and blowing around the planets. The heavens had a sound; *everything* had a song, and it was achingly beautiful. I could feel the strength of my limbs, the wind rustling my leaves, and the beautiful soft earth between my roots like chocolate, like cake, and Water far below, resting. The turning of the Earth and the wheeling of Sun, Moon, and stars was noticeable. Day changed into night faster than I was used to, and it too had it's own song.

My consciousness descended to my roots where I could feel the Earth, feel the Mother holding me, feeding me. Water rose up to touch my rootlets, not drowning them, but gently kissing them, making sure that I had enough, but not too much. I could see little cones of water rising up to kiss each root ending, like a lover kissing and caressing my toes. Water had many dark secrets which He whispers to me within the soil.

Being the tree, having strength of branch was wonderful, majestic. Within my branches there is a halo that magnifies thought; people come to sit in my branches to think, to receive answers to problems. The ones with patience are rewarded, as my thoughts think slower than theirs, and to
hold a conversation with a human requires much listening, much quietness and stillness on their part, for I cannot think at their quick pace despite all my trying. Patience has its rewards. Many's the time I begin to talk only to find that they've gone before I can begin. "What's the hurry?", I continually wonder. What's more important than to dance the dance of life, to feel the pace that life sets?

Their lives go so fast, the song is merely a buzz; I can't make out melody, harmony, counterpoint. It all blends into a homogenous noise.

Animals live in my branches; it comforts me. I give shade and caresses to those who lounge underneath my branches. The Sun and the Moon give me food, conversation and friendship; we exchange poems as they circle me, play hide-and-seek, and return.

I bathe in the rain, and the wind blows my hair. I give my bark for calming tea, and my branch tips to make a fecund potion so that other things may grow.

My green is the green of Green Man, WoodWose, Wild Man, my yellow the yellow of healing.

I think that the big thing I take from this is the quality of Time being bigger than anything I could ordinarily imagine. Time is not what I ordinarily perceive it to be; it is both more and less. More, in terms of a medium to be journeyed in, less in terms of its ultimate importance. It’s a soupy sea because it can be navigated, and there are things floating in it that deserve to be visited.

There are islands in Time, new continents, new civilizations.


.