​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)))

The other day i attended a poetry workshop during our annual ‘isle of the arts festival’…  i was glad i went as i learned some new ways with writing poetry… and i really enjoyed the day…

At one point the instructor asked us to  write a poem about an object… So,  i chose to write about my glasses.  

And, as i was writing, the process seemed to take me into a deep journey—suddenly remembering John Denver—who had been a big influence in my life growing up and continues to be…

He was a huge mentor for me in many ways… as i really connected to his sensitivity—his love of life and that really moved me… what he wrote about + shared with the world… those ‘things’ that mattered most in life, family, friendship + all things sacred including our environment—our mother earth… in another way, he taught me to sing—helping me find my true ‘voice’… I did get to see him perform live a couple of times and i always wanted to meet him—to have the chance to just thank him… I know we were all shocked the day he died… i guess i made the assumption that he’d live to be an old man…

He was only 53 when he perished—one very sad day for many of us…

As i continued to write, i also remembered a video i once saw… it was a tribute to him after his death… (i’m still attempting to find this video to post here)… It was a very poignant sharing of a few select ‘known’ musicians opening the case to Denver’s vintage round granny glasses, that he was so known for… While viewing this video i remembered being very moved and so touched—as i was being witness to a very sacred moment… wow, i wondered what it would be like to do just that—open that case + hold his glasses…

While writing my poem about my own glasses i was quite surprised…as to how this simple exercise moved me so quickly to another place… a place of honouring an amazing man who held such a huge impact in my own life… so, here’s my poem—as it is, at the moment, in its draft form…

nosedive

my glasses
round and purple
considerable
uncomfortable
not scratched quite yet
teeth marks cut
into one right temple arm
helps keep my hands free…

in abruptness of a recent power outage
they slipped off the top of my head
when we fumbled in the dark
making tea
on a propane burner
cracked when they hit 
the frigid concrete floor
i guess they’re
not new anymore…
​
recalling that day
shocked
when i learned you died
tragically
over Monterery Bay
you were off to visit your daughter
when you fell right
out of the sky
decapitated

mother ocean swallowed you

they only knew it was you
when Annie identified your two missing toes
from your right found leg
​
far out.
​

…
© 2022 all rights reserved… carol weaver x (((💜)))
—rest in peace dear sir, born December 31, 1943—died October 12, 1997…
​—thank you dear John, for everything! (33/6)… 
—and, when or if i find that beautiful video, i’ll post here…  in the meantime, here’s another, below… xxx

​every morning i bow down
first thing
to prepare the day’s fire
knees tough 
square on the floor

i lean back
stretching out

bending
my eyes close
calling
gently
dear shining one
daughter of dagda
come nearer

our hearth’s
heart.

bright goddess 
of wisdom
poetry
music
healing
protection
blacksmithing
your love of gentle beasts

keeper of 
unending flame

shelter us
within your
clear green
cloak of care

together, 
let us kindle our
heart’s flame
of infinite 
spark

may i
breathe your
sacred song

upon the wind.
​

—poem/photo © 2021 by weaver…
brightest blessings x (((💜))) 🔥🙏🏼🔥

Good, good news everyone!

Before covid hit last year, i was embarking on finally getting to creating + recording my first (formal) CD… We just got started and then were forced to stop cuz of Covid-19…  stink!

However, as of a couple of weeks ago, we were able to get back into the studio and complete this track we were working on… a cover song by the wonderful Cat Stevens (Yusuf Islam)… one of my favourite songs i love to play of his, “Don’t Be Shy”… and, i feel it’s message is still very much relevant today…

​What Cat says about his song... 

“One thing about the journey of life is... when you look back and see the pages of the past in a new light... and, i think this song says to me... that, unless good people stand up to be heard... then fear and cruelty will always dominate the world.. so, it’s time for those people to stand up and lift their heads... this is a song that i think talks about that...” 
—Yusuf Islam / Cat Stevens

So, i hope you enjoy… click here to have a listen on my bandcamp page and/or download if you wish… we had a blast recording it… 
with brightest blessings + much love,
weaver x (((?)))

ps… note that the recording credits are on my bandcamp page, by scrolling down the page… 

​poem…

​still now
though so so much
soothing… moving from

in to out
out + back in
above
be
​     low

a quiet… secret dance
of sorts?…

​x (((💜))) weaver © 2021

​a poem........

yesterday...
i was nudged to journey...
while drawing + painting...
​
something ‘drew’ me in...

go deeper... 
to a rooted place...
buried... threads fragiled...
thin multi-coloured mark-making...
revealing... what?

i tracked...
ever so lightly... tenderly...
my slanted hand steered...
“just go”..........

i offered a wee hello while...
i migrated... wandered... hunted... chased...
that perhaps...

i was on to something......

travelling alongside washed...
black-ink-penned...
shaky-handed....
painted threads of...

my own weave...

she is...

very fine, dazzling tapestry path of filament light...
capturing a glimpse......
my tender glittered strength...
​torn-worn tangles... grief... joy... pain... celebrations...
ancient... new........
​
now...

grief drops...
splashing upon my soaked page...
blending abstract... accident... of be-ing...
inside...
​my owned inked hues...
becoming......

perhaps...
​... a re-weaving?

i will definitely call again soon..... x (((💜)))

So... last tuesday, after having a deep healing session, i was standing in a long line-up at our post office, freezing my butt off when... i was nudged to look up....

and there, right above me.... a lovely white cloud shape-shifted into one beautiful smiling being...stunning spirit.........

i asked, “now, who are you?”
she replied, “i see you...............thank you for seeing me...”

​then she was gone.........x

more to come... with much love,
​weaver x (((o)))

Humankind did not invent music... music was already in Nature. Motion gives arising to all sound.

The motion of the wind. The motion of the waters. The motion of the stones. The motion in the fire. The wind alone is an entire orchestra. The motion of the body, all of its internal noises.

​Music is a mirror we hold up to ourselves. In it we see reflected everything we have ever experienced. We see the world around us. We see ourselves. We can see how we listen. We can see how we pay attention. We experience presence. We can see how we make love. We see how we evolve. We can see how we dance...

Dance in a circle, the shape of the drum, the shape of the world. The first drum, the human body, with its senses and its rhythms, then the world, with its endless variety of sounds and rhythms. Lightning-flash, winds blowing and the rain drops falling into a small pool. The senses sense nature, and have their arising from that very nature that they are sensing. Nature's way of realizing itself. And yet what is it that is actually experiencing the sensing?

The listener; did this consciousness come from nature too? A way to sense the sensing? The Earth has taught us all we know about music. It has given us its music. It gives us the tools to make its music. In every sound there is music. Visitors from space bring the earth new songs. They come as beautiful stones of every kind. The universe and the earth make love in this way and they sing together. They have taught us their song in this way. The scratching cicada is the sound of the medicine rattle and our hearts drum out the rhythm as we are giving thanks through appreciation for life itself...

In this way we have learned to play the drum. In this way we have learned to sing, dance and make love. It is all a response, a response to life and being alive in the world. It is the song our parents want us to sing. It is the dance our parents dance. They have taught us this out of love. We are in love when we play music and when we dance. This makes everyone happy. Being in love this way reminds us of our source and there is great joy. The music flows like a flag in the wind and the dance is like that of birds or deer. We play this music and the world listens, impartially, for to nature, it is just another passage in an endless stream of music...

For nature, the entire universe is its symphony, its orchestra and its audience.........

*Excerpted from Breath Was the First Drummer: A Treatise on Drums, Drumming and Drummers by Dru Kristel

This is a big ceremonial drum on a 20-inch maple hoop with a strong moose spirit that was plant-dyed in a rich, wine-red… the hoop is stained + finished, with the inner hoop stained red ochre + wood-burned with prayers, honouring the moose who gave its life to become this sacred drum… to be re-birthed with new life, spirit + sacred sound…

The mallet is from a found arbutus branch, finished + burned with a suede pocket…. the back of the drum is finished in a rainbow yarn wrap + black felt handle… Painted on the front in acrylics is an open red rose… tied to the back of the drum is a small wild turkey feather - of which i found on the ground next to the soaking bin, the morning of July 22nd (during her second birthing)… wild turkey holds the energy of ‘shared blessings’ and ‘harvest’ - marking the fire festival of Lughnasadh, the time of the first harvest on the Celtic wheel of life (which happens August 1st every year)...

I fastened to the top/sides of the drum, a hand-made 'blessing' scarf.  The scarf is attached is removable, if needed.  Drums from the Siberian regions of Russia often have cloths or scarves (khadags) attached to their drums that are used for blessing…. when the drum is played with the intention of 'drawing down/in the spirits' or 'drawing down/in blessing power', the blessings or healing power pours… cloths tied to drums can also be used  to transfer this spirit power... ie., during a healing ceremony, face each of the four directions in turn, including the upper sky + lower earth powers, drum and ask for blessings to come into your drum in aid of the person you are offering the healing work for…

I have also infused the drum with the 2nd degree Reiki symbol, ‘Choku Rei’... which means, “place the power of the universe here now”... making this is a ‘healing sacred drum’ that holds good healing intention...

About the spirit of moose… One of the most obvious things that a moose animal totem symbolizes is immense strength + power... the sheer size of this animal gives it a certain prestige. This isn’t an animal that you want to upset. The strength of the male moose can also symbolize bravery and courage. They aren’t afraid to fight for what they want, even if it could result in a broken antler or death... other traits are... gentle, strong, brave, dominating, power-full, courageous, fast, enduring, agile, communal, graceful, adaptive…

I was guided to birth this sacred drum over six weeks ago and it’s been quite the journey for both of us… and, i know that She had her own journey - i was merely her hands in Her becoming… 

I also like to note that this sacred drum was birthed during the Lion’s Gate Activation Portal that happens every year in the astrological sign of Leo between July 26 through to August 12th... 

I began during the Pisces full moon in early July (2020), the process of soaking a very strong Moose hide… which had been cut from the upper middle shoulder part of the animal - probably the thickest part… i was thrilled to be working with a hide that held the backbone line through what would be the center of the drum - this doesn’t happen often as i attempt to use all parts of a hide, so as to not waste...

i was also experimenting with a new dye vat mixed of tumeric + other natural elements - mostly as an experiment to see what effect i may see, wondering how this moose hide would turn out… I was also dying some rattle heads in my red dye vat... and, to stop the dye process with the rattle heads, i transferred them from the red bin to the new tumeric bin.  I noticed the next morning that the rattle heads had stained the moose hide with large spots of red… “Oh, stink!” i said, “i guess this drum wants to be red”.. so i simply moved the hide over to the red vat.  

She was birthed not long after, however, i failed to pull her tight enough where the drum just wouldn’t come in to her voice… so, i sat with her for about two weeks hoping that she would eventually come into voice… disappointed i questioned many times if this drum was even meant to be… was i no longer strong enough to birth such a strong + big drum?  After many days sitting with this, i chose to take the drum apart and re-birth her all over again… something was definitely nudging me to not give up...

The morning i returned her moose hide to the soaking bin, i noticed a small turkey feather had fallen right next to the bin… i picked it up knowing that this spirit held special significance to this cycle of Lughnasadh...

What i didn’t know at that time until later, that this morning was July 22nd… the Feast of Mary Magdalene… hmmmnnn… interesting as it seemed that this drum was being divinely guided to perhaps, become an honouring sacred drum to the Magdalene + the divine feminine… ah ha!  She was calling me or prompting this process… it seemed right that she was to re-birthed...

I knew some about this beautiful goddess that represents divine love and was compelled to research some more the Magdalene… the one symbol that represents Her, that kept coming up, was the Rose… i thought wow, knowing that the rose is one of, if not the highest vibrational flowers/plant...

Rose is sacred...she is the closest thing to love in tangible form. Literally.  Her vibration is measured at 320 MHz.  She is as high as it gets in terms of ‘things we can actually see…’ and more...

During a Virgo new moon she was ready to birthed again, this time, after her drying gestation, she did come into finding her voice and my heart was thrilled… i have to admit she is a heavy drum because of her size + weight of the hide… her sound is different than any other drums i have birthed… she holds a good deep sound + resonates much healing energy out… even without playing Her!

In ceremony i painted her face with a large red rose during a Leo new moon on August 17/18th when i received a message, i feel from the Magdalene herself that this, Her sacred ceremonial drum is to sound the return of Her becoming… the return of the Divine Feminine… to sound + hold the intention of humanity to once again return to honouring our blessed earth Mother as our Source… to remember Her… to Respect Her… to love Her - for we wouldn’t be here without Her!

An added note… I was taught by a couple of teachers (one being, the wonderful Djembe drummer + feminist, Ubaka Hill) to never, ever ‘beat’ my drum… as we know, the sacred drum represents ‘Mother’ + the voice of the Mother and She has been raped, beaten + abused for far too long enough… perhaps we can watch our language we use about the sacred drum... knowing that our ‘words’ hold power + intention = our words create… also, i never call my mallet a ‘beater’... ‘cause when we deconstruct that word, ‘beater’ to...“beat - her”... knowing this i am mindful to longer call my mallet or stick that name… i also choose to ‘play’ my drum versus ‘beat’ or ‘beating’’ my drum...

Also, looking close up to this drum, you may notice that her hide may look somewhat ‘beaten up’… it has not.  Though, i believe that ‘Mary’ is perhaps showing us that the Mother is done with being abused + beaten up... and the marks + imperfections in the hide, remind us of that…

This sacred Ceremonial drum has found Her caretaker... if you have interest in my sacred work please, don’t hesitate to contact me  or visit my spirit art drums shop >>

blessed be + brightest blessings…
i am honoured to be offering this, my sacred work, thank you...
weaver x (((o)))

• all photos + video by weaver © 2020 copyright...

This one day was an interesting one, as i found many emotions popping up—out of nowhere.  I just wanted to scream…scream out loud what was pent up inside me since this pandemic arrived.  I’ve also not wanted to do a dang thing—what is that?  Not usually me… as I simply want to just lie around like a lethargic stretched-out cat.

I chose to get outside and go for a much-needed walk, to clear my head.  Down to our local beach I went, to chill out and ask Spirit for some help.  I asked for a sign of some sort, as i was feeling pretty disconnected…discombobulated.  

There’s definitely an ‘uncertainty’ that this covid-time has brought.  I have found the ‘not knowing’ of many, many things rattles one’s being-ness.    

I’ve lost a lot of work during this covid time—gone.   All of it…

So, off I went and made my way down to the beach.

I sat on the warm sandstone in quiet for a bit and then was prompted to walk out to the water’s edge.  I really appreciated the fresh winds, smells of the beach, and the tide being way out.  I could even hear sky drummers (thunder) playing off in the distance. Opening my arms, I let salted winds blow through me, dropping a heaviness I seemed to have been holding.

As i walked  back from the water’s edge, to my left, a blue heron fell out of the sky, gently gliding down onto the beach, not 15 feet from me.  Oh, sooo beautiful.  I was frozen in awe while the heron fished in a little tide pool, calmly sauntering its way to the ocean’s edge.  I offered gratitude for the beautiful gift of heron—so close. 

All of a sudden, breaking my relation, my moment with the heron, I could hear off in the distance someone yelling loudly. When I turned around, I saw a man standing and holding onto his bicycle, yelling something incessantly and at the top of his lungs. There was no one on the beach except me and the heron.  It was hard to decipher what he was shouting through the sounds of the beach, the wind and the waves.  

The heron and I just stood there.

I could hear that he wanted me to back away from the heron!  I wondered what his problem was. 

My first reaction was to yell right back at him, to express assault in return.  I felt upset about this verbal attack—it rudely violated my sacred moment.

Nonetheless, I chose to ignore him by simply turning around.  The heron seemed unaware of what was happening—as it continued to leisurely saunter, hunting for a next morsel.

Connecting back with the heron, I returned to my feeling of being lifted by this beautiful stately bird. Of being so close to this being who didn’t seem bothered whatsoever.

I turned back to see if the upset man was still on the road; he was now gone.  “What was that all about?” I asked myself… I guess someone just had to vent. 

Turning to make my way back, picking up a few shells here and there along the way, I walked up the beach and onto the road, I made my way back home.

A dear friend driving by pulled over to say hello.  We shared mutual challenges and grief—having aging parents in locked-down care homes and hospitals and how hard it felt, being so far away from them.  Knowing that this crazy pandemic isn’t ending anytime soon, I wondered if I’ll ever get to see my mother (93) again, as she was in hospital on the mainland, having fallen and breaking her hip.  My dad (94) was in dementia care in White Rock.

While we chatted, my eye caught five or six ravens shouting vociferously as they played in the wind together, high above the towering firs.  My friend and I shared much needed tears, gave each other a big, distant hug and each headed back to our homes—I on foot and she in her car.  It felt good to connect with another dear human again.

Turning the corner to my road, I spotted a flicker woodpecker (the drummer) who cried out in the woods beside me. I smiled, thanking my dear ally for the percussive hello.  As  I walked towards our lane, in a neighbour’s yard, a beautiful young doe poked her head up out of the long grass.  We both said hi through our eyes, then she slowly followed me down the gravel road—and my heart was smiling.

I sure did receive a message—gifts of deep connection of the heart, the pulsing of our blessed earth Mother... shapeshifting magic within the void of sweet Spirit...self-reliance, and wisdom evolving to a higher place of consciousness and choice—in the present moment.

I am very blessed to be here now, in this sacred, green place... Thank you sweet Mother, great goddess, Gaia.  Thank you for holding my back... I bow in deep reverence… Thank you… I trust.

much love,
weaver x (((💜)))

photos by carol weaver © copyright 2020