The Furious Spinner

It is pouring down pissin' down rain. Yep. It is November in the Pacific Northwest. Rain, rain, rain. And did I mention: rain. The flooding will start on the morrow, no doubt. As usual, I have my eye out for the ark. (Ouch. Not literally.)

I've been doing a ritual every night now for nearly a month. A month tomorrow. A healing ceremony for the community. Every night Mario and I walk down to the river, do a little rattling, a little singing and talking and communing with the elements and the trees and the water, then I scoop up some water from the river. (That sounds simple, but it ain't. In the past month we have had some weather, and the Big River has reflected that. It's been cold, rainy, stormy, cold, windy, cold, and windy. I gather up a little water while trying not to drown or slip or get all wet. I've been fairly successful thus far.) Then we go back up the hill to a grassy place near the Old Oak and Old Maple and we continue our ceremony for the healing of our community. Tomorrow is the last night. I'll miss it. I like hanging out with the invisibles—and the visibles. One night a yellow dog showed up. Another night a tiny black dog dogged us. Two nights ago some kind of bird decided to be a part of the ceremony. As I stood in the rain, this bird kept circling me. Not above me but around me. I asked it if it needed anything. It just circled and called out.

And the dreams I've had this month. Bears, bears, and more bears. A black and white snake. Horses. Crazy people. And more. I won't go on. I haven't eaten a bit of crap for a month now. And no gluten of any kind. No nightshade. Not even cayenne or paprika. Only went out to eat once, at the Blossoming Lotus in Portland. I have been to two different acupuncturists I don't know how many times. Plus my naturopath and my craniosacral therapist and a shamanic practitioner and a hynotherapist. That's not counting all the Invisibles I had conversations with. And I wrote a book. Tonight my sinuses feel sore, but I still hope that the polyps either disappeared or didn't get any worse.

Did I mention I've started listening to the ringing in my ears? Like the buzzing of bees. Remember that saying: "Ask the wild bee what the druids knew." So I'm listening. I've heard, "Flowers know everything, and the trees know even more... Magic likes routine—and wild abandon...Sing. Pray. They are the same." (I just realized if someone came to this site for the first time tonight, they'd probably think I was a bit crazy. More than a bit, darlin'!)

Mario and I have decided to start a chapter of the Old Mermaid School of Telling Tales and Finding Art. This particular school, or the idea of it, appears in Church of the Old Mermaids. In the book it was a school for children, but we like the idea so much that we're going to start a chapter here, so to speak. We're inviting people from our town to come and tell stories. Here's how part of the invite goes: "You are invited to an evening of stories and art. Thursday, November 16, 2006, 6:00 pm, at Kim and Mario's house. We will be practicing the ancient art of storytelling and celebrating the beauty of found art. The last harvest is in, so now it is time for storytelling—the kind of word weaving our ancestors spun to hold their communities together. If you know a good story, please come tell it (not read it). If you have a particularly interesting piece of found art, please bring it—maybe it’ll turn out to be something the Old Mermaids used, and Kim will have a story to go along with it. Or just come and listen." People really responded to the Old Mermaid stories at the Gathering. Now this will be a time and place for more stories of the Old Mermaids and other stories from other people. I'll let you know how it progresses.

I have a sign on my front door that says, "Welcome to the Old Mermaid Sanctuary." I'm going to change it to "Welcome to an Old Mermaid Sanctuary," because there are sanctuaries everywhere—and we want more and more of them! There is no dogma in the Church of the Old Mermaids, just suggestions, but what do you think an Old Mermaid Sanctuary should actually be in order to be an Old Mermaid Sanctuary? (Got that?) The Old Mermaids would suggest beauty within every sanctuary. Each new Old Mermaid can define what beauty is for herself (or himself). The Old Mermaids would suggest that problems be solved without violence in the Old Mermaid sanctuaries. In fact, clever creative problem-solving without name calling is highly valued amongst the Old Mermaids. Creations of all kinds are met with great joy. Good food is served and eaten within an Old Mermaid sanctuary. People love within Old Mermaid sanctuaries. Animals too. Connection with nature is reaffirmed everywhere in an Old Mermaid sanctuary. Those in need are welcomed in an Old Mermaid sanctuary. Songs are sung. Enchantments are chanted. Joy is joyful. And dances are danced.

That is the Old Mermaid way.

If any of you establish your own Old Mermaid sanctuaries, send me pics of your signs or your place and I'll post them. I would love it!

Haven't I just rambled on and on tonight. It's been fun. I haven't done this in a long time. I haven't wanted to bore you with my fears and trials and tribulations this month. So many of you have so many more pressing problems than I do. But right this second, right this moment, I am so happy. I am filled with absolute joy. I can hear the rain. I can hear Mario cutting up the Old Mermaid invites in the kitchen. I imagine all of you comfy and safe while you read this.

Blessed buzzin' bee!

Sweet dreams! 3 comments

3 Comments:

oooooh (whine) I want to come to your First Old Mermaid Sanctuary Storytelling evening!! sigh.

Last night I dreamed that I watched a buck tear off a huge limb of a Doug fir with its teeth. The limb was almost as big as a small tree itself. Then he dragged it across the road into some bushes in a field. Very odd. But animal dreams are always significant, aren't they?

Hey, from your description of what an Old Mermaid Sanctuary should be -- I think my house already is one! I better make a sign!

Love and hugs from a Sister Mermaid . . .

By Joanna, at 9:00 AM  

That's quite a dream. Scary? Last night I dreamed of rabbits and horses in cages.

From what you've said about your house I think it already is an Old Mermaid Sanctuary, too.

Hugs back!

By Kim Antieau, at 9:18 PM  

Dearest Sister Kim Mermaid, this is an amazing idea, and we should all have an old mermaid sanctuary, a place in which we can cultivate the bright compassionate values that the old mermaids bring into our lives.

I thought about you last evening as I was out in the garden trying to take another picture of the full moon. It was very very cold and my hands shook, but how bright She was, and how radiant Her smile.

This week my dreams have been of white tail deer in the woods and owls in the trees. They have much wisdom and many stories to share.

Love and BB, Sister Cate Mermaid

By Anonymous, at 2:09 AM  

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