Have you ever listened?
Readily lessened.
To the sound of the rain as it falls.
And it's a symphony of many layers,
With the deep sounds of the timpani and the giant drops that are falling straight down,
That are thrumming and filling up the bass line.
And on top with the light layers of wet sheets of mist blowing in unison,
Filling up the mid-range.
While the chaos of the wind sounds out in brass.
Moving.
The drops,
Their rhythms,
Uneven.
Unpredictable.
Falling layer upon layer upon layer in this unending cacophony of sound and chaos.
You are within your bed.
Cozy.
And beyond it,
You can imagine,
As you lie there,
Perhaps not able to sleep.
As you lie there listening,
You can imagine.
All the other humans snug in their beds.
Dreaming or awake perhaps.
Also listening to the rain as it falls.
And bow on.
One night,
She too.
Was one of them.
It was this sound that she had awoken to.
As dream and reality overlapped and warped in the darkness.
Her husband,
Nik Tan,
Was lying next to her,
His snores so loud and unapologetic.
But the downpour of rain was almost loud or almost able to drown him out.
She stared up at the ceiling in the darkness,
Allowing that veil of dream to slip gently from her.
And in that moment,
She felt this longing,
This sudden urge to feel that rain on her skin.
That rain that she could hear so powerfully thrumming on the tin roof above her.
And so fierce and strong was this feeling that she bolted upright,
But then remembering her sleeping husband next to her.
She moved more slowly,
Trying not to disturb the bed covers,
Flipping soundlessly from beneath the blankets.
Her white nightdress falling softly around her feet.
Her long brown hair and a thick braid down her back,
Her bright green eyes as they searched through the darkness.
And her nimble form moving to the door where she slipped on her shoes soundlessly and crept out into the starless night.
Out into the cool of that darkness she stepped.
As the huge drops of rain fell around her,
She felt this urge to raise her face to the heavens and to feel those drops on her cheeks,
To taste that wetness on her tongue.
And yeah.
As the drops landed,
There was no wetness.
There was no cool,
Refreshing sensation.
She let out a deep sigh.
What did she expect?
If this was how it had always been,
Why would tonight be any different?
She shook her head as if to shake away the cobwebs of her dreams that still must be stuck there.
Remembering the place that she had woken up into.
For this was a dry,
Harsh land that she lived in.
This was a place where rains would fall,
But the water would evaporate as soon as it touched the surface.
And although it looked like a land of green.
This was an illusion.
A spell cast by the she to keep the land looking healthy,
While beneath this layer of painted trickery it was dusty and dry and lifeless.
And so wiping the water from her eyes,
Not sure if it was tears or rain upon her cold cheeks,
She turned to go back inside.
But with her hand on the doorknob,
She hesitated.
For there was a longing.
Still tucked there quietly beneath her ribcage.
A longing that wouldn't allow her this night to return to her home,
To the warmth beneath her covers.
Through the side of her sleeping,
Snoring husband?
No.
Something was pulling at her.
Calling her away.
It almost felt like voices in the raindrops were whispering to her on this night,
Beckoning to her,
Urging her elsewhere.
It was as if the water that made up her own body,
The water that sometimes fell on her cheeks from her own tears when She found herself alone,
Despairing at her.
Lonely life,
Her arms wrapped around herself,
Soundlessly crying.
It was almost as if this water too was calling her back towards a greater source.
Pulling.
Calling,
Urging her not to go back to her bed,
But to move away from the house.
And down.
Down into the grove that lied beyond.
Down towards.
The forbidden well.
The well of Sigist,
The well of her husband's,
A place that she wasn't allowed to go near for reasons that she did not know.
The well was in a grove of ancient trees,
Down in a valley she also was never allowed to walk through.
It was forbidden.
For it was best,
She was told,
If she stayed in her home.
Idle and bored,
Perhaps,
But safe.
Or so her husband said.
Safe from what?
She did not know.
But it had always been this way and why would it be any different?
Accept.
On this night,
With those sweet,
Whispering voices singing to her,
Giving her courage to move through the dark and silent night,
Why not,
She thought.
I'm not tired.
It's so quiet.
Surely there can be nothing to fear.
And so down into the valley she went as the sound of the falling raindrops,
That unison of many voices,
Joined with the whispering of the tree branches,
The wind moving through them.
Down into the valley,
Everything was so very dark.
She couldn't see a thing,
But she had never tasted fear and so did not know there was anything at all to be afraid of.
The voices urging her,
Guiding her downward into the grove.
Where the rain began to slow beneath the canopy of the trees.
The voices now just a murmur in the branches above her and in the land beneath her feet.
A rush of wind as a cloud draping itself over the moon drifted off and beyond it.
The moon's glow now lighting up the land before her as it revealed a circle of nine hazel trees gathered together.
Tall and regal.
And looking past them,
She saw at the center was a stone well,
Which almost seemed to glow from within the protection of these trees.
She was still a ways from it,
But she could see that the cover was closed.
And yet.
.
.
Ah,
And yet.
.
.
She could feel something pulling at her from beneath it.
Something unknown,
But oh,
So powerful.
Yet in this sacred place,
She felt safe,
Like she was almost amongst friends and allies who were welcoming her arrival.
These trees revealing themselves to her,
And the wind now causing them to move and dance,
Making it seem like they were almost bowing down to her.
Parting to reveal the well almost like they had been waiting for her all this time.
Magic was moving in this grove.
And it overtook Boand.
And moving into the sacred grove as if in a trance.
She began to circle the well,
Walking slowly around it,
An ancient knowing spreading throughout her limbs,
Moving her round and round as words began to form on her tongue and be spoken.
As the melody began to sing itself through her.
We fail Shepard.
We hail the directions.
In the east I call upon Yala,
The light-swollen spirit of air.
In the West,
I call upon the great and the salmon of wisdom,
The spirit of water,
Whom I beseech.
In the south,
I call upon fire,
The sacred snake spirit of blame.
In the north I call upon the great boar,
Spirit of Urman.
May there be peace throughout the land.
Down into the earth and each time that she circled the light began to glow even more from the trees.
She could see acorns glowing like fireflies hanging from the branches in the well.
It also began to glow with an even fiercer light.
In the rain it began to beat down even harder.
Now the wind whipping up the branches around her.
A storm was raging.
But she continued to circle and to sing.
Kur mefeil Shanan arijin.
And after the third time around the frenzy of the storm,
Around her wind tearing at her clothes,
Her hair plastered to her face,
Her voice ringing out boldly over all of it,
The enchantment began to pull up the water beneath the well until,
In one blast,
And surged upwards in a great fountain of light and color.
This water strung and powerful,
These voices louder joining together with the wind and the rain and Boan's own voice.
The water towered over her,
Pulsing and seething,
Tearing the acorns from the trees and pulling down branches around her.
But Boan did not notice,
For she was singing and howling wildly,
A force within herself broken loose with the water.
You for she was not afraid.
She was part of this force of nature that pulsed beneath and around her.
And in the sacred water from the well of wisdom she finally felt the wetness of it on her skin like a desert that had never seen rain.
Her skin soaking it up,
Her mouth swallowing it greedily as she whooped and hollered with such joy.
Dancing there from within its torrent,
Drinking it,
Singing with it,
Splashing it all over her body and rejoicing.
All she wanted in that moment was to become one with that great and powerful force.
And as the water surged and washed over her,
She began to dissolve into it.
Into light,
Into water,
Dissolving,
Joining those salmon of wisdom that swam there in its depths and traveling down,
Shapeshifting into countless forms from acorn to salmon to one with the great spirits of the ocean.
Some will say.
The power of this well was violent,
So great,
So destructive that it blinded her,
It deafened her and tore her apart limb from limb,
And eventually threw her upon the rocks and took her life.
This is not what happened.
For let us not forget that Bowen had a power within her of her own.
And she had been the one to conjure this power with her voice,
And in her remembrance of the voices of her ancestors.
How could that well of all wisdom ever possibly wish her ill?
I did not want to destroy her.
I didn't want to destroy the voices of those other powerful women who had come before her.
Who had harnessed the strength of their ancient mothers before them and theirs before them,
Those who had guided Boan gently into their coven of power and knowing through their voices.
And in the circling of the well on that night,
Boan had not been alone.
But rather joined by all the women who had come before her.
All those who had used these words in centuries past to call upon the four directions and to bless this land,
Those voices that had been forgotten rose up.
And had joined with the nature spirits and the plants.
The unseen forces of nature,
Together they had called upon the elements,
And the sacred spirits,
The Great Mother,
The earth below,
The sky above,
And so the sacrifice of Boan's bodily form was an honor.
It was an offering,
A liberation.
And in her dissolution into the river she had found new life that was boundless.
She had become one with it.
Creating it.
And being created by it.
She had felt the bliss of returning to it from whence she had come.
Of that which she was made of but had somehow forgotten.
Boan had become the water from the well and wisdom itself.
She began to move and dance as the water traveling and spreading her body across the land in the form of small streams and rivulets at first and then as she got the hang of it into torrential flows roaring rivers bursting forth carving out paths for herself through the rock and bone of the dry earth She sang and she surged her way into all the driest places of that land so life could spring forth once more.
She felt the longing of the sea in her watery heart now pulling her down.
Down.
Joining that great expanse of ocean like a sigh of relief.
Dissolving into it,
Her magic becoming one with every molecule,
Within you and within me and within each drop of dew that could be seen the next day,
Spreading out across the vibrant green of the landscape in the light of dawn.
Her body in the river as the river.
Her voice in the river of the river.
And so the spell had been broken.
And her rivers flowed freely in these lands.
The rain sinking into the soil and nourishing it.
The green of the landscape dark and rich and oh so very real.
In this land where food and flowers grow.
Where the people once more feel its medicine on their skin in those seasons of falling rain.
Where they sit by the river enjoying together,
Singing.
Celebrating.
Teaching each other to listen to the songlines that run beneath them.
Always reminding each other to thank Bowen and join their voice with hers as they listen to her.
In the whisper of the rain.
The gentle babbling of a brook.
The rush of the waters within,
Around,
Beneath.
And in this land where they remind each other in their wisdom to always protect these rivers.
And to always share this wisdom abundantly with whoever wants to listen,
Whoever wants to drink deeply of its waters and sit by its shores to sing back to them.
And in this land.
When a little girl wakes up in the middle of the night to dance and holler outside in the rain,
When she flings her head up to the sky and sticks out her tongue,
She too tastes the wisdom of the earth.
And remembers.
She,
Too,
Hears the voice of Boan.
And the grandmothers.
Telling her,
Urging her to always follow her truth.
And always raise her own voice when she wants to.
To shout out gleefully.
Even if it is in the middle of a starless night.
And she has woken herself up from her own dreaming.
Taking a deep breath.
Allowing your body to relax.
Noticing.
If there's any tension.
And allowing your breath to soothe and release.
Any places that you're holding.
Tight.
Feeling the soothing calmness of your breath.
Noticing each inhale.
And exhale.
No need to change the breath or deepen it or.
.
.
Breathe any differently than you are breathing now.
Just noticing.
The ebb.
And the flow of the breath.
Unending.
Inhaling.
Like the waves of the ocean.
And see you soon.
And forth.
Allowing yourself to be gently rocked by it.
N.
And out.
N.
And out.
Feeling.
The safety of that constancy.
The rhythm.
Of that movement.
In and out.
Like waves.
On the shore.
And as you sense into the breath,
I want you to sense into that part in your body.
Feels.
Pull of something greater.
Something beyond.
Like the wave knows it's part of the ocean.
Like the ocean knows it is pulled by the tide.
The force of the moon.
Feel the echo of that within your own body.
Pull.
Perhaps.
It's a yearning to connect with something bigger than yourself.
Perhaps it feels safe and secure.
A rope tied between you and that great force beyond.
And you know you can tug on it to remind yourself it's connected to something bigger.
Just as you can tug on a rope that is down.
Down inside a well.
Dark and deep.
This rope dropping down into this well.
You can imagine now in your mind's eye the feeling of this rope.
Beneath your hands.
You can feel the waves on the other end.
You can feel the coldness of the stone on your elbows and your arms as they rest on the edge of this ancient well.
Pulling and pulling the rope upwards.
Feeling the heaviness of the pail of water on the other end.
Hearing.
The sound of the bucket as it splashes against the walls of the well.
And the strength of your arms as it pulls that bucket of water closer.
From the dark depths of the well,
You can now see.
The glinting of the light on the water in the bucket.
And as you pull,
And you pull.
The bucket moves closer.
And you can finally.
.
.
Reach down,
Feeling the metal of the handle on your hand.
Pulling it from the well.
Heavy.
Splashing onto you.
You set it down next to the well.
You look into its depths.
This clear,
Fresh water.
You reach your hands into it,
Feeling the coolness,
The relief from the burning sensation.
The rope on your palms.
Any pain just dissolves.
And so you put your two hands into this water,
Cupping it towards you and splashing this water on your face.
Feeling the cool sensation,
And then you cup your hands and you drink deeply from this well,
The coolest,
Most refreshing water you have ever drank.
Slipping down your throat,
Down into your stomach,
Allowing all the molecules of your body to light up as they feel nourished by this water.
Feeling the water coursing through your body as if you had been dehydrated all this time and slowly,
Finally,
You were hydrated,
Refreshed by this clean,
Pure water.
You continue to drink deeply from the water until you feel this glowing within you.
Slowly at first.
You begin.
To feel the warmth.
The glow is coming from within your body and shining outwards.
The glow from this beautiful water,
This water that has healed you and refreshed you and brought you back to life.
Feeling it surging through every molecule of your body.
You lie down next to the well as the glow begins to get brighter.
You feel yourself slipping.
Down into the earth.
As if you were floating on a river.
As if the water inside of you has transformed you.
As if the inside of you has become the outside.
You begin to slip down into the water.
Allowing it to buoy you and float you gently downstream.
You feel the warmth of the sun above you.
And the feeling.
Of surrender.
Of trust.
As you float down this river.
Which guides you gently this way and that.
Water is warm.
Perfect temperature.
And it holds you so gently.
So safely that you close your eyes and let it wash you downstream.
We hear the voices of the river.
Singing to you softly.
You feel the safety of trust,
Of knowing that you are being guided and pulled exactly where you need to go.
The stream.
Pulls you.
Down to feel the wash of the water on your back,
On your limbs.
Just float there gently.
Relaxed.
Hounds.
We float down this river.
Hearing the sounds of the water.
And your ears.
So peaceful.
So sweet,
So gentle.
Your pulse.
Towards the great source of all things.
You're being pulled back.
Down the stream towards the ocean.
Peeling every part of your body.
Being held.
Your body weightless.
As it floats and moves.
Down the stream.
You feel like all of the impurities are being washed from you.
Anything that you no longer want with you on this journey is being washed away.
In the clear spring water.
From the top of your head.
Down.
Down through your neck.
Your back,
Your shoulders,
Down to your hips,
The backs of your legs.
You feel the water washing away.
Down to your ankles and your feet.
Anything that is no longer serving you,
Being washed away clean by this water,
This pure source.
Feeling that sensation of being held.
Was the glowing,
The warmth from within you.
That is shining out,
Pulling you,
Propelling you towards the source.
Towards the ocean.
The momentum of the water pulling you.
Out.
Out.
To the sea.
And as the purple that you are floating on meets the ocean.
You feel This glowing.
.
.
Expanding.
The sense of relief.
The sense of knowing and trusting and being whole once more.
You float out.
Into the ocean being held by the waves.
Feeling the power of.
Great mother.
This great expanse of ocean.
Holding you.
Reminding you.
That you were part of something so much bigger.
You could imagine.
Reminding you.
That just like the wave that is part of the ocean,
The ocean is part of the earth.
The water is pulled by the tide.
Just pulled by the gravity of the moon,
Just pulled,
Connected to all the stars,
The solar systems,
With their own gravitational pulls,
Their own being pulled towards the source.
And the remembrance of the beginning.
Remembrance of where they came from.
It's all connected.
From each drop of water.
Trickling in a stream.
Into a roaring river,
Into.
.
.
A wild ocean.
Into the stars and the solar systems and the movement of the cosmos.
Drops within your body and the stars within the galaxy.
All pulling towards something bigger.
It's off.
Just allowing yourself to notice any images that are coming to you.
In this moment.
Allowing yourself to feel anything within your body.
How you known us?
In this moment.
And as those images might fade.
Feelings in your body might dissolve.
Just remembering that.
Returning to the breath.
The inhale.
The exhale.
Ebbing and flowing.
Like the movement of the waves.
Just remembering that within the breath.
This contains the entire universe.
Expanding and contracting,
Ebbing and flowing.
Always being pulled back to something bigger than itself.
