​I’ve had another recent memory of my childhood—this time from grade one.

In our little two-room school-house i remember that i had to sit in the front room for grade because i was one of the few, if not the only one who wore glasses.  It seemed the teachers always made those of use who wore glasses, to sit at the front.
​
This particular day, we all were colouring and Mrs. D., our teacher, was standing at the front of the class reading from a storybook.  As she was reading, i was taken by and distracted by my classmate Billy who also colouring (he sat next to me at the front too)…

i thought what he was colouring, was beautiful.  And, so i simply leaned over to tell him saying something like, “that’s really pretty Billy—i like it’.

Right at the moment i had said that… Mrs. D., clouted me right over the head with the hardcover book she was reading from, shouting, 

“Don’t interrupt me when i’m reading to the class!’
“Ouch—that hurt”, i said to myself…

​I sometimes wonder if that’s perhaps why i deal with chronic neck + back pain to this day?

​I had a memory pop up recently—and that remembering can also be triggered from seeing someone wearing very thick ‘coke bottle’ lensed eye glasses. 

My recollection is from my early elementary school days, where i was probably in grade 5 or 6… The principal in that school was named Mr. P_____, who was a very tall well-dressed middle-aged white man with dark hair.  Mr. P_____ took his job as school principal very seriously.  I don’t remember seeing him smile much.  His dark-coloured rimmed glasses were definitely a part of who he was.  He would often tilt his head back and peer over them, as they often slipped  down his nose—probably from the sheer thick-weight of them.

During that time—it was probably around 1970 or so…and, the strap (corporal punishment) was still being used in schools until it was banned in about 1973.  And, Mr. P_____ seemed to like using the strap as a disciplinary action in our little school.  It certainly worked for him.

When some poor sod got into trouble and was sent to the principal’s office, fear would reign—as one would often get a strapping as a result.  I myself came very close to receiving the strap once—though managed to get out of it, some how, i have no idea how…

So, when a student was slated to receive the strap, what Mr. P_____ would do every time, was… He would go to every classroom one by one, open the door (he never knocked), rudely interrupt barging into the room, look over his thick black glasses and state very sternly: “I’m leaving the door open…” 

We soon learned what that meant…
​
He would then move on to the next room and do the same.  When he was done with each room, he would then go back to his office where the student was and, leave his office door open as well.  He would then proceed to strap that poor student.  

The whole school would go into a disturbed hush…

Needless to say, we as a student body were absolutely terrified…where we all ‘felt’ that strap together, ‘as one—while we were forced to listen to the cries streaming down the hall from his office.  

We were always relieved and breathed a big collective breath when it was finally over with.
​
Until, the next time.

​Animism is the belief that all objects, places, and creatures possess a distinct spiritual essence and everything is alive and holds spirit. It is a ancient belief system that is shared by many indigenous cultures around the world. Animism is based on the idea that all things are alive, interconnected, and fundamentally connected to the spiritual realms. 
​
Animism holds that everything in the universe has its own spiritual essence, and all these spiritual essences, from the rocks to rivers to plants and animals, are part of an interconnected web of life.  

I feel we have lost our connection and right relationship to Mother earth, nature and all Her living beings—for we wouldn’t be her without Her… We wouldn’t be here on our Mother without the sacred elements of air, fire, water and earth.  Without the living and breathing trees, we as humans could not breathe… which is a sacred ‘right’ relationship.  Without the sacred waters or fire or the earth Herself… We could not survive for long.  So what is your relationship to the sacred elements, the plants and animals—all of it?  Do you offer your thanks and gratitude for these relationships—your life?

I had the privilege of growing up on a dairy farm out on the Delta/mud flats just south of Vancouver on unceded lands of the Tsawwassen Territory.  I was lucky i was able to roam and hang out on the land by myself, a lot of the time.  I would fly kites, lay on my back watching and dreaming with the clouds and sky beings… i also built campfires, communed with the critters and birds that lived and migrated through—all held within sweet Mount Baker as my backdrop… i know that sweet spirit held my back…she helped keep my feet on the ‘ground’.

Being and growing up on that beautiful flat land and big blue sky taught me to see in so many ways that i assumed that everyone saw the same as i did.  Becoming an adult, i soon realized that not everyone does.  I feel as a child growing up there, helped me to build a strong relationship with everything below, around and above me—that everything held as much value as i and, they (the spirits of the land + sky) and the land taught me that everything is beauty, alive and breathing, just as i am.
​
Animism emphasizes respect for all living things and the interconnectedness of life.  Animism also connects one to the sacred relationship of all things and the power one holds to that relationship or right relationship.  It’s not about ‘power over’, though asking instead, what is one’s relationship to the power or essence-spirit of that relationship or how do you both work together within relationship spiritually?

with brightest blessings,
weaver x (((o)))

This post is to explain, why the ‘big hair’ from a past post titled, ‘my first drum-set is the one i’ll love forever’ >>

Back in 2008, i was accepted into the Vancouver Pride In Art juried art show called “Gender Twist”...  i was thrilled my painting ‘then i smoked a peterson pipe...’ was a part of this wonderful show at Roundhouse Community Arts and Recreation Centre.

It’s a self portrait i painted in acrylics on a 4 x 4-foot gallery canvas...  around the outside of the painting are the words:

​“true story... everybody thot i wuz a boy... so, i got my hair permed thinkin’ that would fix it... but that just made it worse,  so, then i smoked a peterson pipe...”

It’s funny, i wasn’t really sure i’d  be accepted into the show... when i entered my submission, i hadn’t painted the final size painting yet... i initially submitted a small 1x1-inch thumbnail study... 

Well, i was accepted into the show... and then, had to paint the full size painting... i had never painted that large before... though i was up to the challenge... It now hangs in a private collection of two dear friends.  It has certainly become one ‘conversation starter’.

When i was growing up, i was definitely a ‘tomboy’.... and, during most of my youth, i was constantly mistaken for a boy... Being already quite androgynous-looking... super skinny with short-cropped hair, always in jeans or shorts, t-shirt and a hat... and, it seemed the older i got into my teens, more-often i was being called ‘son’ or folk being totally confused to ‘what’ i was.

When i hit high school... being frustrated that folk were continually confused and now, being teased by my peers, i pleaded with mum to get my hair permed... thinking that, if my hair was curly, people would perhaps stop seeing me as a ‘boy’.

After much pleading, mum finally succumbed to my wish and i finally got my hair permed.

However, the perm went bad turning into a big complete mass ball of frizz.

Getting a perm didn’t work at all... it made it worse... my crazy hair made me look even more androgynous!  By this time, i was living and working at a summer job in the interior of Naramata BC...

and, “then i smoked a peterson pipe!”

I really did for a time... a bunch of us did...and no one knew who or what we were... and, that didn’t matter... anymore.

​Wow... here's a blast from the past for throwback thursday today = holy whoa, look at that hair!!!...

Yes, this photo is of me in my early 20's... i believe this shot was probably taken when i either worked at Carnegie Centre in the downtown Eastside of Vancouver back in the early 80's (i also ran their coffeehouse)... or just out of high school in the late 70's when i played in a jazz trio in Naramata, BC...

Who knows... it was sooo long ago?

What's so cool in this photo, is that this is the first drum-kit i have owned... This is the set that my dear mum gave me for my 10th birthday!... and, i had that kit forever... I have to say that my 10th birthday was the best ever...  I recall my mum telling me on the morning of my birthday, "Make sure you get home from school as soon as you can today for a big surprise!"... and later, when i did get home, there, strewn in the front hallway were a whole set of drums - for me!!!  

WOW!  I couldn't believe my eyes.... i wuz over the moon!!! ... It was the coolest thing my mum ever did... the bestest present ever... 

She had bought them used, though a local newspaper ad... They were certainly the ugliest, beat-up drums ever... as a previous owner had re-covered them with a gawd-awful  green paisley wallpaper... plus, painted boldly on the front of the bass drum head, in VERY thick dark green oil paint, were the words, 'The Heard' ... and, stuffed inside that kick/bass drum was old crumpled up newspaper sheets (to dampen the sound i suspect) which dated back to the early 60's...

Though, i didn't care... i loved my drums cuz they were MY drums... Eventually, i fixed them up and re-covered them... and they went everywhere with me ... even to Alert Bay when i worked for a short time and to the interior in Naramata + many other places.......... I didn't realize until years later, when i gifted the set to the Carnegie coffeehouse that some of the parts were indeed vintage + probably worth some good money... like the Ludwig snare drum (an LM 400!) though, i never told my mum!  Apparently it's vintage and was one of the most recorded snare drums in music history... cool eh?... and, i had owned one.

My drums rocked!  I have to say that i'm thrilled to have this, a photo of them... such a wonder-full memory...

Mum, you're simply the best! ...
love you sooo much!... xoxo

I explain why the 'big hair' in this post >>
tee tee!! x (((o)))

PS... it has been confirmed that the above photo was taken in the basement of McLaren Hall at Naramata Centre in about 1978 or 1979...

The other day, in a quiet moment... I was imagining... wondering what life may have looked like if I had grown up in a more positive environment?  Would I have more self-confidence?... be more extroverted?... would I feel as much as I do?... or see as deeply as I see? ...does it even matter?...

​Since the mark of the new year... especially during today's full moon/eclipse in cancer, i’ve been spending some good time journeying in... to that place of my own preciousness ... the place of my healed state - the light of who I truly am... it's been an interesting re-hello.........

Since moving here to beautiful Gabriola, I've learned a lot about fire... I like that I tend our hearth-fire... chopping wood, stacking, lighting... We heat our home exclusively with the wood stove... so, during the dark cold months, our fire is always going needing continual tending...

For the last couple of weeks, in the evenings, I've been quite drawn to sit on the floor, right in front of the wood stove... I love opening the door, welcoming the radiant heat blasting my face, all of me... appreciating how the warm goes right inside and through me... I'm really loving fire right now...  I know it's been helping me... 

Looking back... to a place before... little, young and wee... recalling dissonant heavy stuff that i managed to soak up like a soft sponge cuz I trusted... I felt a lot, a whole fecking lot!... took on agreements that weren't mine... didn't even belong to me...

​So i’ve been lovingly giving that heavy energy away... letting go... gifting it to the cleansing sacred fire... mindfully, safely opening up...unwinding my three worlds...

• the place of my will, at my belly of right action...
• the place of my compassionate heart of munay, right loving...
• and the place of my mind.... clear thinking, pure thought...

Choosing to empty it ALL out... that which no longer serves... all I've seen...  all I have heard... all I felt... yanking out a lot of the old threads... feeding them to the sacred flame... where my blessed earth mother welcomes my black compost, which feeds her... she then transforms that darkness back to Sami-light...resonant life... a beautiful relationship of reciprocity... I feed Her as She feeds me...

I pick it all out with my trusty seam-ripper ... cutting + pulling out long strands that have been running on automatic...in the background... like downed, live power-lines, flailing about...

After all that heaviness burns to the ground... I then gather that sweet gift of light transformed, back into my belly, heart and mind... re-informing... filling myself back up with the bright clear light of who I truly am...

hello weaver.........

It feels good to continue to rip out those embedded seams that don’t belong or match my own weave... my dreaming... 

​happy new year with brightest blessings... xo (((o)))

"Mother, Bear...
   invites me...
      into her darkly cave...
         where silence surrounds... the answers She gave..."

"Interesting..."
is a word you may hear me utter.  Usually when i can't explain something or, i've experienced or felt something profound through Spirit.

Recently i had a re-visit from Mother Bear... a Spirit Bear.

​It seems my life's journey holds quite a magical bent.  And, often feel like i don't know what i'm doing half the time—oh, i know that's a self-judgement, though i do "keep on keeping on"... staying on my path as best i can and, when i allow ‘magical stuff' can happen and will show up—usually when i least expect it.

Recently, i was chatting with a dear friend about my creative process and, how my own intuitional knowing doesn't always inform at the time i would prefer it.  Though, i’ve come to learn that my inner knowing + creative sourcing will often kick in much later, sometimes days or weeks later or, my knowing informs in a whole other route than expected.  I would never claim i'm psychic though, (far from it!).  Though, i know i'm definitely spirit-guided, and intuitive, with much gratitude.  I am so blessed with a heck of a lot of unseen help from the Spirit realm.  I’m one lucky bum.

"living breathing light
push kawsay holographic
i know i'm out there"  
—Haiku by weaver  

I adore the word, "kawsay" (pronounced cow-sigh), which comes from the beautiful Quechua Indigenous language meaning, "living breathing energy... life force, energy that animates the universe: it comes from the collective, from genetics and from spiritual energy... life, everything is energy; of the major organizing principles... energy that permeates all of Creation on various vibrational levels..." 

One potent teaching i received during my years of advanced earth-based training was to practice "pushing the kawsay".  This term also brings to mind the Scots Gaelic poetic phrase, "Òran Mór" which means, the 'Great Song' of the Universe... where, everything holds a song... it's own frequency and vibration.  Everything in the universe is singing, even rocks, trees—everything!

It’s interesting to note that sound-healer/musician Kailash Kokopelli believes that all dis-ease and unbalance in the body is ‘out of tune’ where, certain sounds and frequencies, through music/sound can help re-tune the body.  He shares the example; the dis-ease of cancer holds a certain resonance (or song) and if the sound-healer can match that same resonance/song though sound, the cancer or dis-ease can be eradicated… combusted.

Back in high school, I was known to visit the Principal's office way too often.  An art teacher i had, eventually realized that it was best to remove me completely from her classroom, in order for me to be able to connect with 'my muse' and get some actual work done—as i tended to be over-disruptive during class.  

Mrs. Plummer would assign an art project where everyone would begin creating except me.  I'd just sit there, staring about, not knowing what to do for the most of the class, goofing off.  It was like, i had to kick the assignment 'out there' to the art-goddess or whatever, and patiently wait for 'it', whatever 'it' was, to return back to me when 'it' was ready.  I couldn't force it—believe me, i had tried.

Often, Mrs. Plummer, frustrated with me, would set me up in an empty classroom, all alone with art materials and sure enough, i'd eventually create—the 'muse' would finally fall out of me and i create stuff i never even knew i could create = Was that me that did that?  I know now that i was perhaps, "pushing the kawsay".   I also learned that i needed quiet reflective time first, in order to connect with my own inner muse.

We're presently in the cycle of Lughnasadh  or Lúnasa from the Celtic realm of Scotland + Ireland... also known as Lammas in England and other parts of Europe.  A seasonal one-of-four annual fire festivals, marking the time of harvest before the Celtic New Year of Samhain arrives at the end of October.  On the wheel of life, we're also in the direction of the West, the time of the 'falling leaves' who teach us how to simply 'let go' with ease and grace.  A dear friend recently shared with me that the leaves have "worked for and created much...they give to protect Mother Earth—there is much to learn here..."

Lughnasadh marks the beginning cycle of the noticeable descent of the Sun into the darkness of winter.  From the connection between the Earth (female principle) and the Sun (male principle), the union of the Sky Father (Sun God) with the Earth Mother we celebrated at Bealtaine, emerge the fruits of the first harvest of the year.  Lughnasadh is a time of joy and celebration about the first fruits.  It is also a time of tension, because the dark days of winter are coming nearer, and most of the harvest has not been brought in and stored away quite yet.

So, during this turning of the wheel is also a place of 'going within'  and introspection as we move more and more, spiralling into that cave of darkness, as our dear earth Mother slowly goes to sleep, to deeply rest and regenerate during the cycle of Samhain/winter.

​Three and a half years ago, before we moved to Gabriola, i had a very strong, visceral dream about a huge mother bear that 'sniffed me out'.  I wrote about this powerful dream on my blog back in 2016 >> 

I know that this dream marked a shift for my partner and i, in finding a new home, where, now we live on beautiful Gabriola Island, a 20-minute ferry ride from Nanaimo,  BC.  We never dreamed of living here before that dream.

​Interesting...

​Living here has been nothing short of magical where, every day we both continue to pinch ourselves... so deeply aware of the amazing blessings we continue to receive—with many new close friends, a nurturing supportive community and holy wow, a stunning beautiful sacred land to live upon the ancient sacred unceded territory of the Snuneymuxw people of the Coast Salish.

​This past week, i was called (more than once), to go back to a special place, a good walk from our home, to visit a very large stone-being i had unexpectedly met on one of my walks, a couple of years ago. 

I seem to connect with big stone beings, as they often like to reveal their faces to me—why, i do not know?  I’m grateful the the gift.

I recall being guided off the main road to a trail i wasn't aware of.  There, was a sign that read, "public access".  So, cautiously, i climbed down the steep, rocky-rooted trail that led me to a high cliff above the ocean.  What a beautiful place i had stumbled on and what was cool was, i was all by myself and it just felt good!  I hold a fond memory of sitting in reverent silence for a long time on that sun-warmed boulder.  It was like i was being supported in some way.

I was moved to explore, hiked around, up and down the dry, wild terrain.  The place felt particularly special...inviting—covered in crunchy long grasses, stones, fallen branches, lichen, old gnarly arbutus, garry oak, maples, towering rock walls and honkin' huge boulders.  I was drawn to head over to one very grand stone, right at the edge of the cliff.  I asked permission to come close and was invited to connect with this immense being. 

I sat in still-reflection as i gratefully leaned my stiff back into the side of this grand warming rock that was probably 30-40 feet long and say,15 or more feet tall at her high point—one huge presence!   I made an offering of thanks for the blessed gift of just  'being' with this beautiful space of inquiry, adoring the feeling of being deeply backed (no pun intended).  I also sensed healing vibrations filling my body and weary soul.  I had such a wonder-full time with myself that afternoon, appreciating what was around me, which filled me with much rested thankfulness of being guided there.

Heading back up the rough trail to go home, i was nudged to turn around and look down where i had been.  Oh my, i was blown away by what my eyes saw.  I had been communing and connecting with one very large stone, shaped like a bear!

There she was, in all her majesty, revealing herself from profile perspective.  Such a megalith and oh, that shining face!  From every ounce of my being, perceiving that this was one big spirit, a bear.   I stood there for a long time, within utter awe.  I couldn't take my eyes off this being—as my heart safely opened.  I was drawn to take a photograph of her because she was so stunningly beautiful, especially the way the warm sun lit up her sleek kind face.   I'm grateful i still keep that photo of her.

Interestingly, the spirit of Bear sits in the West on the Great Song-Wheel of Life.  Bear represents introspection, reflection, slowing down, rest, respite, death and rebirth and another aspect of the Goddess.  Bear can also show us how to go within during the falling leaves-time, to enter her embracing dark cave, to hibernate, heal + regenerate.  Bear can also represent primal power, sovereignty and right-brain intuition coupled with instinct.  She also connects us to the beauty of art, re-bonding us with the very deepest of our ancestral roots within the belly of the Mother.  She helps us to be in touch with the Primal Mother—the She-Bear Goddess Artio who will defend you fiercely from all uncertainty.

Ancestral roots?... mother?  interesting...

The cave of Mother Bear is where She seeks answers while hibernating and dreaming. She then lazily awakens in the Spring, just like all the colours that emerge, awakening the power of the unconscious.  Mother Bear asks us to walk the path of inward silence of the West, to calm our inner chit-chat, the place of rites of passage... a path to the dreamtime... a place to dream our lives into being... along side with our dear Mother's own dreaming.

One of my favourite poems by Mary Oliver is titled,
Spring…

Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring

down the mountain.
All night
in the brisk and shallow restlessness
of early spring

I think of her,
her four black fists
flicking the gravel,
her tongue

like a red fire
touching the grass,
the cold water.
There is only one question:

how to love this world.
I think of her
rising
like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against
the silence
of the trees.
Whatever else

my life is
with its poems
and its music
and its glass cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting;

all day I think of her--
her white teeth,
her wordlessness,
her perfect love.
​
​—Mary Oliver

This last week out walking, with full intention of honouring a strong pull to go back to visit the bear rock once again.  Somehow i knew i needed to go though, wasn't really sure why.  
​Though following my hunch, off i went.

However, upon arriving at the spot i remembered where the trail down to the cliff was, i noticed that there were a number new "private property" signs up to the right of the "public access" sign entrance.

I carefully made my way down the rocky dry uneven trail.  I inched sideways further, where i saw there was also, a chain-link fence up, blocking the whole way to get down to where i knew bear rock was at the cliff's edge. 

I was royally annoyed.  Why was this barrier keeping me from visiting Mother Bear?   I was sure i needed to be here in some way.  Though i wondered, perhaps not.  What happened to the 'public access' that's no longer public?  What?   Whoever had bought the adjacent property next to the 'public access' marker had completely blocked any entry down to cliff's edge anymore.  

​How dare they?

Yearning for another way, i was determined to get to Her and know why i was being so called.  I made my way down along the stupid fence and, off to the left, discovered a steep climb towards the lower cliff though, noticed there was yet, another 'no trespassing' sign at the bottom.  Stink.  “I'm really not going to get there, am i?” i thought to myself—not legally anyways.  I began to make my way down though, soon was told intuitively ‘to stop'.   I clamoured back up the steep trail landing at the top on my butt, irked… frustrated.

I kept asking myself, "Why was this being so difficult?"  Had i not been respectful with the Spirits?  Do i need to ask permission? 

I hadn’t asked permission.

I humbly asked for consent with an old tree that was reaching itself out, horizontal to the sun, over the Salish Sea.  I pulled a small stone out of my pocket, mindfully blew some prayer though, tucking as an offering within a nook of the bark, then sat down in deflated silence.  I asked and, asked again.

Eager for some kind of reply, i heard a raven vocal-ing high above, as shared-air swished through wings, raven passed over, dropping onto a branch, see-sawing.  I sensed being checked out.

I asked again… sensing a stirring of words from my open heart…

"Dear one, you can connect with me from here, now… from anywhere, you know..." the voice whispered.  I smiled, "Of course, i know that." 

​The inner voice again breathed... "Go to Drumbeg..."

​Go to Drumbeg?... what?
That didn’t make any sense!

Drumbeg Park is at the other end of the island.  I didn't trust that last message—what i thought i had heard.

​I chose to sit a bit longer with the tree, feeling kind of bothered and disappointed though, enjoyed the birds flying about, the swirling water and such.  

​As i mentioned, i usually don't get messages like other perceptive folk seem to, so easily.  I'm often intrigued + impressed by their adeptness of their gift or i wonder, perhaps good guessers.  If i'm lucky, and listening, a teaching or message can often come much later, usually in an unexpected or ‘round about way.  I’ve come to accept that this is how i access from inquiry, a gift.

Discouraged, i stood up to leave, thinking i should just go home and, just get some work done.  I had a deer hide soaking in a bin that needed attending to—birth a drum.

Making my way up the same route i had come down, got in the car and intended to drive home.  When i got close to being back, something tugged, and i said to myself, “Ah, forget work,” and kept going, down the road towards Drumbeg.  “Why not?  It's a beautiful sunny day…I can work later…i should treasure these last warm days of summer.”
​

"I didn't hold you when you were born...
‘cause I knew you were going to be adopted so soon...
I didn't name you either... Couldn't do it—it was just too hard..."
—Marlene, my birth mother...
​

I love the stunning drive to Drumbeg Park.  I prefer to take South Road that’s more scenic, by the ocean, while winding through sights of trees—i never tire of it.

​Roughly fifteen minutes later, i arrived at the other end of the park.   With wooden flute in hand, i made my way down a steep + short narrow path carefully navigating over a number of large washed up, bleached white logs, entering the beach.  Surveying my space, i noticed some tourists off to my left,  So, gazing to my far right, i was surprised and thrilled to see there was a massive rock wall that i hadn't noticed there before.

I wanted to check it out…and, as i got closer, i noticed another intriguing large boulder rock that nudged my eye.  One that had been eroded from the inside out over time by the sea and frost.  We have many large sandstone and rock like this all over the island—many of which you can crawl or sit within.  One of our island's most famous, is the Malaspina Galleries at the north end of the island off Taylor Bay Road.  I love drumming in there in the quiet season when the tourists have left.

I carefully edged my way around this huge rock and noticed from it's back, it held quite an interesting, almost Mayan-like profile of a face.
I offered a courteous ‘hello’. 

I continued on towards the stone wall and explored jumping rock to rock along the face, curious with the eroded niches carved along the stone face.  I got as far to where the tide was coming in, then turned, inching my way back towards that big rock.

I walked completely around the stone-being, sensing…curious…attentive… felt invited to climb up inside the cave-like opening, which looked a little bit like the shape of a heart.

Tucking my flute into a back pocket, it took me a bit to get myself scaled up high and into the opening.  Grabbing whatever edges i could, i managed to pull my weight up and inside and sat down on the rough sandy floor.  This stone was so much bigger in size and energy than i thought—and i could feel a shift once inside.   All around me were holes eroded right though the wall of the rock that i could see through.  There was what seemed to be some red ochre on one part of the wall.  

I got myself settled in the roomy cocoon space and pulled out my flute.  I attempted to blow for a bit enjoyed the cool acoustics within.  I soon put my flute down and chose to sit in silence.  Perhaps i may receive a message in this old ancient stone? And, if not, well, we’ll see.

As i sat, at first, with eyes closed, i could hear ocean waves rhythmically rolling over pebbles on the beach, and not far away, the rush of a strong rip tide.  I took a couple deep long breaths.  I liked being there.

Looking out, very near, was a towering old cedar, dancing in the light winds.  Overhead, a stellar's jay flew in and out it's branches chattering noisily, plus, there were wispy angel clouds sailing by in that afternoon azure sky.

I sat for about 40-minutes or so enjoying the smells and the sounds, shot some silent video of the view out, blew more flute and to no avail, got no sense of any message or 'hit', other than knowing the joy of just being, there.

I asked the wind… the trees… the sky… stone… do i have to know?

I savoured being inside this old rock formed of petrified sand.  I felt held by something—maybe hugged?  There was something soothing and embracing about being within.  Though, i couldn't seem to settle myself—something also, felt quite foreign.  

Realizing that good ol' time was going by, i gingerly climbed back out, down onto the rocks onto the beach.  I then headed back to the car after scanning the beach for washed up treasures like, interesting small branches of driftwood, shells and such, then drove home.

I still felt somewhat miffed that i didn't get to see and be with the big Mother Bear Rock back off Canso Road earlier, though did enjoy my time at Drumbeg and i wasn't sure why Mother Bear or whatever had asked me to go there?  Most likely, wondered that perhaps, i needed to let the latter piece go.

​Perhaps.

The next day, upon waking, i suddenly realized that i had been with Mother Bear spirit, at Drumbeg all along.  I had been sharing my lovely afternoon with my partner there when, it hit me like a ton of bricks.  That the big ol' rock i had climbed into and sat within in so long—i had been held in the arms of Mother Bear!

Mother Bear had held me...
...and, i wept...




Later, two old memories surfaced out of nowhere.   I recalled two times quite young, incidents where i had been 'held' against my will.

Interesting…

When i was about 3 or 4.  My mom had attempted to force feed me a boiled egg.  I didn't want to eat that damn egg ‘cause i couldn’t stand the smell of it.  Though she really wanted me to eat that egg, and, wouldn't let me go until i did.   I fought and fought, trying to get away, though she held firm.  I felt suffocated.  I screamed and yelled as she pushed and shoved that egg into my tight-lipped mouth.  Crumbled egg was everywhere.  She eventually gave up.  

I still dislike eggs to this day—not my favourite food.

Though, i do know now that she was only desperately trying to get me to eat something of value.  Apparently, i was quite the picky eater as a kid.  I found foods to be either visually gross and/or weird-stinky like pizza or weiners.  Campbell’s chicken noodle soup was definitely my ‘go-to’ back then.

The second remembrance was when i was little older, though still very young, at about aged 5/6, maybe 7.

One afternoon at home my dad’s accountant/friend for the Farm business over for his annual visit.  He had come to bring my dad's completed income tax back for its final sign-off.  Then, they would sit down in the living room for a dram of whiskey—it was their ritual.  I don't recall where my mother or sister was at the time though i was hanging around, curious, like a kid would be.

At one point, the man scooped me up, plunking me on his knee.   I told him that i didn't want to sit on his knee though, ignoring me, laughing, began to bounce me up and down.  I didn’t like being bounced up and down.   I stated to him again that i wanted to get down because i had to go to the bathroom.  Both my dad and he seemed to find this scene very humorous.  Me? Embarrassed + trapped.  With drink clinking in one hand and his other arm, clutching me tight against his chest, continuing to bounce me up and down.  Up and down, up and down.   Helpless, i began to cry, feeling suffocated and helpless, pleading with him to let me down as i really had to go to the bathroom badly… up and down, up and down… and, then…

It happened.  I peed all over his lap.

Laughing though shocked, he released me to the floor and i ran away feeling so shamed and confused.  I don't even remember what happened after that—though i also wondered where my mother was during the whole affair?  I often ponder why my dad even allowed his friend to go on as long as he did.  Why didn't he look out for me and stop him?  Many thoughts have come.

Interesting…

Being held against my will... not feeling safe while being 'held'... 
+ i had never been held by my birth mother...
and, where was my mother?

all very interesting.

Though, Mother Bear Rock, an old, cold, stone, boulder 'held me' within Her warming safe embrace, and, thinking back to my beautifully guided afternoon, i had felt very safe.  Safely held within the Mother.  My blessed earth Mother.

Thank you Mother Bear, Artio, i thank you... i know you continue to hold me + for always.  I  hold much gratitude for your gentle teaching.

I am within great joy that i can visit with Her anytime, from anywhere... especially during this time of falling leaves, Lughnasadh.

and, perhaps she'll have a message for me, most likely, later...
brightest, weaver x (((?)))
​

​“something like a hug
i don’t know, far from such space
was never ever.”
—Haiku by weaver  

… may i continue to learn…

text/images by carol weaver, copyright by weaver © 2019

Mother Bear stone rock photos by weaver + jp wright © copyright 2017/2019...

Added March 22, 2020... 
​It was She who called me to come back to drum within Her…
​x (((o))) come be held... come journey…

(((o)))
“All the eggs a woman will ever carry form in her ovaries while she is a four-month-old fetus in the womb of her mother.  This means our cellular life as an egg begins in the womb of our grandmother.  Each of us spent five months in our grandmother's womb, and she in turn formed within the womb of her grandmother.  We vibrate to the rhythms of our mother's blood before she herself is born, and this pulse is the thread of blood that runs all the way back through the grandmothers to the first Mother.”
—Layne Redmond​

"Are you ready Carol?..."  Debbie asked excitedly...

My half-sister and i were on an arranged phone call together... Debbie was the oldest of four half-sisters i had just met weeks earlier - on the phone... 

Months earlier, the BC Adoption Reunion Registry (ARR) had finally changed from being a passive registry to an active registry in 1991.  When that status changed, all BC adoption records with the passive registry had been transferred to Family Services of BC - where they contacted those of us who were registered with the ARR, announcing we could now request an 'active search' for birth parents/relatives.  Before the change, both parties would have had to have been registered in the passive registry to create a match/reunion.

I had registered with the passive registry many years earlier... and, on my birthday every year, ran a classified ad in the Vancouver Sun "People Finders" section - hoping my birth mother may see the ad... Though, nothing ever came of that annual ad...

I applied immediately for an active search... and a Family Services Researcher was assigned to my case to conduct a search for my birth mother...  I was quite excited at the thought of perhaps, one day, they may find her...

As soon as i had been told i was adopted, i had often wondered who she was, what had happened...why i had been adopted...so many questions...would i look like her?  I had grown up in my adoptive family - tho never felt like i truly belonged in some weird way... i called myself the "pink sheep"... I felt like a stranger in a strange land... i knew nothing about my birth ancestry, my family name or where i came from?...  Who the heck was i?...

My older brother was six years older, the only biological child... I often called him, "the real one" in the family and still do... and my younger sister, adopted as i was - though, from a different family/area of BC... i didn't look like anyone in my adoptive family - neither did my sister...  I recall a moment at elementary school on the playground swings, when a friend blatantly announced that i looked so much like my mother... I couldn't believe my ears and told her that i was adopted and how was that even possible?... She just shrugged her shoulders.  I knew i didn't look like my adoptive mother...father or anyone!

I waited many months before i heard anything from Family Services... until one day...

I was attending a women's business conference and towards the end of the long day, my partner said she wanted to see one more booth... I was tired, not interested in seeing any more displays and said I'd wait for her before we left...  I was standing next to a booth in the middle of the bustling hall, when i felt an abrupt dizziness, catching myself from falling over.  It was a strange, swirling feeling like i was going off somewhere... then it stopped - i came back... i didn't think much of it other than perhaps i was just tired...

Later, i went back to the studio to finish up some work before dinner when the phone rang...

It was a call from Anne, who was my researcher from Family Services...  She was happy to announce that she had found my birth mother earlier that afternoon... hmmnnnn...i wondered to myself later... when Anne received the call back from my birth mother earlier that day... could it have been around the same time i felt so dizzy earlier that afternoon?  I wonder... 

Anne mentioned it had taken a long time to find my mother because she had married (a year after she gave birth to me) and had changed her name... Anne then asked me if i was sitting down....

I said, "yes"... when she  went on to announce that i also had four half-sisters! 

I was shocked... It's funny... all the years i had been searching for my birth mother thinking, that maybe, one day i might find her... never ever did i think or realize that she might have had a whole family of her own - a life...  Really?... Wow!  After further chat with Anne, she added, that one of my half-sisters had attempted to find me for a number of years and would i like to exchange phone numbers to connect...would that be okay... I said, "Sure"... 

Not long after getting off the phone with Anne, i received a call from Debbie, my half sister, who was the oldest... One of the first things she told me was how relieved she was to know that she wasn't the oldest anymore - i was!

I wasn't sure what to make of that...?

That evening i talked with all my half-sisters... I remember it being such a fun time "catching up" and sharing stories... especially with Debbie - who was 'over the moon' that we had finally connected... She could hardly contain herself!   She told me that her mom had once told her... it slipped out after a party, that she had an older sister... and that her mother had forced her to give me up because she was unwed.  My birth mother swore from that day forward she would never give another child up... and she never did.  A year later after i was adopted, she met a fellow, got married and raised a family with four daughters...

After the calls that evening, Debbie suggested that a first, slow step to a possible reunion would be to exchange letters and photos with each other and our shared mother... of which we all did... 

The next step we decided, was to arrange "to meet" on a phone call with Marlene... and so, a date and time was set a couple of weeks later... 

The day came to meet on the call... i was so nervous... What am i doing?... What should, will i say?... What will we talk about? What is there to talk about?  i wanted to forget the whole thing...yikes.......

At the arranged time, the phone rang on the minute... I let the phone ring a couple of times, sucked in a deep breath and hesitantly picked up the phone...

I was relieved it was Debbie on the other end... She told me she was at her mom's place, with her mom beside her and mentioned she was just as nervous as i was... With excitement in her voice Debbie then asked, "Are you ready Carol?".... I said, hesitantly, "oh...kay..."

I could hear Debbie talking in the background asking her mom if she was ready..............

I could hear my mother laughing in the background as Debbie was handing her the receiver...

As  "mom" fumbled with the phone, she was still laughing, right from her belly... the first thing she said before she even said hello was, to laugh........

In that moment, i pulled the phone an arm's length from my ear............. it's hard to describe because i felt something i had not ever felt before or knew?... 

I was remembering my own mother's laugh...............whoa...

I knew right then and there, in and throughout my whole beingness.... that i had heard my mother's laugh before...i KNEW that laugh... i'll never forget that powerful visceral vibrational feeling = a total body re-membrance!  In that moment, i knew i was talking to my birth mother and, i also knew during that "conference dizziness" i had felt her on such a deep vibrational level...

And, i can't even remember what we talked about during that call... 

It's interesting... all the years i have taught drumming and drum birthing, i have had many folk share with me that they don't know how to drum...or even think they can ever learn how to drum... I smile reply back... 

"What do you think is the first sound or vibration you have ever heard or felt?"... "It is the sound vibration, the pulse of your Mother's blood... the sound of her heartbeat when you were in her womb for nine months - that is a sound vibration you know so deeply, felt and heard first...  of course you know how to drum... her heartbeat pulse is vibrating in your bones!"

I now know my Mother.. her vibration and resonance is in my bones!

sooo, do stay tuned if you wish... more to come...
with brightest blessings, 
weaver x (((o)))

I love that the above quote by Alice Walker showed up when it did the other day = there are never any accidents eh?

This last week i was blessed to hang with a dear friend...  We had some good time to connect and catch up with one another's work, our art and spirit path...

It's always good to be with an ally... a sister who shares their authenticity... to truly understand some of the 'same stuff' we deal with as beauty-makers on a daily basis... it helps to know that we're not alone keeping on... keeping on the path as we are continually called...

We talked about 'wounds' and particularly... how our core wounds, can continue to inform our lives... and, how they can run silently in the background like some insidious screwed up program... broken and sickly... barely going though still operating...  I sometimes call it the 'default' that kicks in or triggers you when you least expect it... playing with + hampering our self-worth...

And....... it's interesting how stuff can align too... It's like when we bring awareness to something, deeper awareness and healing comes right in the moment... After our lovely time together that afternoon with new awareness shared between friends... back home,  while i was mindlessly scrolling through my photos, i stumbled on an old portrait of me someone had sketched in pencil.... and, there it was... that old sketch - not very big... very simple, looking back at my soul...

I was drawn to journey within this drawing which took me back to the time in my life when it was drawn - in my early 20s...  A time when i was searching for meaning in my own life... of autonomy and independence... finally getting out on my own to find my own way.  Though at the same time, i was a walking zombie of confuzzed wounded-ness - not knowing who the heck i was...

I journeyed back even further to re-visit some of those places ... woundings in this life-time and even further back to a past-life awareness that had come up for big healing along my path years previous... I know now that those 'agreements' that i made as a child are not even my own agreements...they're someone else's - who didn't know themselves either... who had been wounded too... who were just living their life the best they knew how... i had forgiven that remnant long ago... 

It made me realize just how much 'all of that' narrative that was mindlessly served up to me within daily, traumas big + small - i sucked up like a sponge, like all children do... and those old stories stayed 'there' deep within my sensitive being... as set-programs continuing to run on default from that moment forward... 

Revisiting this place brought deeper awareness as, i also stumbled on the above quote by the wonderful + wise Alice Walker... where profound healing or how i like to call it... 'another layer of the onion has been peeled away' yet again... i have let a lot of crap go... and the 'story' that goes along with it... that is no longer serving me... it's all gone back to the Mother that she lovingly composting + transforming back into 'sami' light... 

"Healing begins where the wound was made."
--Alice Walker

I give thanks and gratitude to my sister-friend for her wisdom + caring ear the other day and my friend who sketched that lovely portrait of me... and i know why i kept it... and, i so wish i could remember her name - which has left me... (when it comes, i'll certainly give her the credit she is due here)... i love this sketch and how it was rendered = ie., no chair!...

I still remember clearly the afternoon she drew it... and gifted it to me later that day 40 years ago - somehow she was guided... she knew she had captured something healing for me... (her original is to the left) and...

The other 'version' i posted at the top of this page, i had some fun artistically 'reclaiming + retrieving' back yet again another beautiful piece of my soul that has been held within the love + the safety of our Mother's arms all this time.... perhaps a 'new self-portrait of the being of light i truly am.... 

Thank you my dear friends... i love you...
brightest, weaver x (((o)))

Honouring + Remembering "Mrs B" - Evelyn Beharrell
July 3, 1914 - February 26, 2007
~ Died in Nanaimo at the age of 93 ~

Dear Mrs. Beharrell... ...Thank you for YOU Mrs. B !!!
​
Just wanted to let you know how much i appreciated you and to thank you sooo much for being a major influence in my life in all ways - with music and life...

I always loved and so looked forward to being in your bright loving presence whenever you came to visit my mom at our house or at church.  You and my mom were best friends - you both first met when you worked as telephone operators at BC Tel... and, you loved to debate politics with my dad any chance you could get - and same with him!  I think you won those debates in my mind...

You taught me sooo much - how to be a passionate and soul-full musician - to open my mouth wide when i sang and to always enjoy life in the moment... it was always fun to be with you any time and we always laughed a hell of a lot!

You are the most joyful and elegant person i have ever met!  I also loved how passionately and how well you played the piano and the organ...

I will always remember the many songs you cherished and played so beautifully... "How Great Thou Art"... "My Favourite Things"... "Robin In The Rain"... "Swinging On A Star"... and so many more - every time i hear them i always think of you!

I will always remember the day you chose me at church choir (St. Stephen's United Church, East Delta, BC) ...when you handed me a pair of old bongo drums. asking me to play some new calypso hymn with you and choir.  That was the first time i actually played 'real' drums' - i always wondered how you knew i would be able to play them?  That was certainly a pivotal point in my life and i've never stopped drumming on 'real' drums since...
​

You taught me much about life in many ways - i loved how you always saw the good in all people and it didn't matter from what walk of life they came from... you taught me that there is goodness in all life and in all people...

One time with you, i will always treasure...

One day as you and i were driving back from Ladner to my house in East Delta, (i think i was about 10 then), there was a young bearded man with a back pack hitch-hiking by the #10 highway exit to the 99 freeway and when we drove by and, you said to me...

"Gee... i wonder where that beautiful young soul is going - do you think we should pick him up!?"

From what i had learned thus far in my young life... a lot of folk would have quickly judged and saw him as a dirty transient bum or a hippy - But not you.. you never judged people in a negative way - ever!  And, i always admired you for that - you taught me that there was a whole other way to see life... to choose to see the beauty in everything - thank you for that!

In your elder years, i was saddened when you had to move away to the Island because i didn't get to visit with you as much as i would have liked... i was glad that i did get to see you a few times before your passing when you were in Nanaimo - i will always treasure the moment when i shared some music with you during one of those visits... your sight was rapidly leaving you tho' you still "saw" so much - a treasured moment i shall never forget - your face was as bright as the sun!  I appreciated that you thought my voice had 'matured'...

What was ironic, was one of the last times i saw you, i learned you were sharing a wall in the care home you lived in, while in Nanaimo - with celebrated Ojibway artist Norval Morrisseau... one of my most favourite artists ever... You both passed over that same year in 2007.  I had the privilege of meeting Norval a couple times, there, with you at the care home and another time at a health food restaurant (Sweet Cherubim's) on Commercial Drive in Vancouver...

So, my dear dear mentor and friend... i thank you again for all the wonderful times and all the music we shared together and, all you taught me - i will always remember you, i honour you and please know... i really really miss you!!!  I miss our visits, our talks and just being together laughing, and...

I also know deep in my heart that you are sooo very happy to be finally reunited with your beloved Charlie and you both are most likely dancing and singing in the light!

...with much love and light always, carol x (((o)))
​
PS... above photo taken with Mrs. B wearing one of the air-brushed shirts we created when i co-owned and operated Women's Work Screen Print & Design Studio - she loved it and the bright rainbow colours certainly suited her (she thought so too!)...

BEHARRELL _ Evelyn (nee Lowrey) Born July 3, 1914 in Esquimalt, B.C. Evelyn passed away peacefully February 26, 2007. Predeceased by her husband Charles Francis Beharrell in 1965, as well as her brothers Stan and Warren Lowrey.

She is survived by her brother Raymond Lowrey, as well as many nieces, nephews, grandnieces and grand-nephews. Evelyn had a rewarding career as a pianist, accompanist, choir leader and director of music throughout New Westminster and East Delta, as well as working 20 years with the phone company before marrying her beloved Charlie in 1957.
​
She lived many years in Ladner, then Sidney where she spent 18 happy years before moving to Nanaimo with her brother in 2001 to live with her niece and nephew Rosalind and Mike Brethour and their children. Her sense of humour and empathy will be sadly missed by all her family and friends. Many thanks to the staff at Nanaimo Seniors Village for their thoughtfulness and care during her stay. - Private interment of ashes at a later date.

Published in the Vancouver Sun and/or The Province on 3/08/2007.