I drink another dosage of the ferment of healing provided by the Lady Odom, which brings on another level of clarity as I purge the toxins within the self.
Alongside this, a huge rage emerges towards all beings who have ever tried to dominate or assert on me, focusing on a member of my fae family who I feel does not meet me in the honourable way I engage with them.
In a healing capacity, I know this is not really about the individual, but about a trauma of dominance that went on in my childhood and has been an issue all through the Journey Home, where I have done vast, vast amounts of inner work and forgiveness clearing to dissolve from my field of manifestation.
Yet while this is true, in a very real reactive way I am consciously having to move away from imaginings of retribution towards feeling slighted, intentionally transcending what feels *so very real* in my body with spiritual technique.
I trust Misty as to what she suggests, for her Aspect is one of healing, and she offers a meditative technique of inquiring from the subconscious self when this feeling of dominance and response first occurred.
More and more, it becomes clear to me that the kundalini yoga is the way. Refusing to accept the vibrations of outrage and without a workable phone number, I use the WIFI of the bus station to pull up the Life-Force Academy in order to do the Miracle Mantra while I wait.
Thankful that I’ve got enough money in the PayPal to pull cash from an ATM, I get a bus ticket, taking me to the Temple of Story, where I deepen the focus into the Mythica.
As always, I am deeply thankful that the library exists, allowing me and others sanctuary and a place to work.
Despite the resolving agitation. I am pleased. My efforts are not in vain. The Mythica continues to flourish and I have enough money from donations to register peterfae.com and buy more time for food in order to crystallize the storytelling through the platform.
As I do, I discover another Temple of Story, this one called ‘Book People‘, the scents and textures of it’s environs thick with the honouring of Story. Here, I pose in front of a suite of graphic novels, feeling the energies of the telling coursing through my form, invigorating me with the prana of Story.
In every way, the spell of the Mythica is unfolding, the means of invoking the sacred Story coming to my mindseye through this very journal.
Honouring the Body
Making my way back towards the bus stop to head towards my campsite at Secret Springs, I stop at the local Whole Foods. Here, I gather a few vegetarian options with spice, which prove to be the wrong thing to do, clenching my stomach in the context of the cleanse.
As it happens, I can feel with newfound clarity how this less-than-perfect food affects my body and mind, reminding again how the road forward is one of absolute cleanliness and virtuous clarity to make my way even deeper into the Mythica.
The Kava Connection
I love this place. It is a realm of fellowship and inclusion, where beings from all across the realms gather in shared Water. Like the Barton Springs, the Kava Bar shapes the Hearts of the people through her ministrations, embodying the archetype of that sacred watering hole for the travelers and the free.
As a traveling adventurer, I have always had a penchant for places like this. Architectures of mythos where adventures gather, each on their own sacred Story, for a moment of meeting along the Quest.
In the privilege of walking the rainbow road I have been to many such places. Where the traveling or stationary manifestation of Oberon’s Tavern in the realms of faerie, the rooted hub of traveling avatars that cross at 9 Angels on the Island of the Gods or any of the infinite other expressions of the Place Where We Drink and Share, the pub, whether liquor, elixir or liquid light, is always a place of Stories.
At the bar, I encounter my ally Dock, one of the wildefolk who lives on the streets of Austin. He tells me he knows the location to the underdark I was told about by White Liar days earlier, and we make plans to head there later in the evening.
Healing the Voice
A deeply magical and healing thing happens as I come back into the bar, feeling the Opening in my voice, the music thrumming through my soul. Where I stand in my authenticity, and experience a healing.
It happens as I come in, and sing a few light melodies. Where an ally of mine who plays at sarcasm makes slight. I know they don’t mean it, as only a few minutes before they were jamming and bouncing to my song. Yet it hurts my Heart. I feel an olde wound, of being unreceived in my Gifts, within my chest. At first,I consider that I shall just let it go, and breathe through the feeling moving through my inner childe.
… yet the feeling within my chest will not be denied. I try to sing a few small spells and feel a blockage within. Recognizing such as the iteration of a pattern and it’s potential for healing, I resolve to say something if it happens again, to face the reflections with valor and vulnerability.
True to form, it does, and they make a comment. Immediately I respond, sharing how it makes me feel. After a pause, they shift their stance and relent.
And everything changes. My inner childe appeased, I feel the flow and magic moving through me once more, birthing songs through my form.
The Song of the Underlands
True to his word, my ally Dock shares the location of the entrance to the underdark of Austin. As we walk together towards it’s location, we share the tales of our journeys across the city.
As he leads me forward, he tells me of his plans for a video project called ‘Tramp Life’. Of his time as a medic in the army, and of jumping trains along the Path.
Doc will not enter the tunnels. There is bad blood between him and the resident of the eastern tunnel. He warns me to take only the western passage, and I do, heading deeper into the darkness with only the torch granted to me by King Niekko.
It is a beautiful exploration. One where I am reminded of the lava tube I was taken to in 2015 during the “Womb of the Mother” episode of the Journey Home.
To be in the the urban version of the thing is bright adventure for me, to deepen into the silence and the blackness, drinking in the Yin that balances out my solar expanse.
I encounter a turtle as I walk the black, stranded in shallow water left over from the last major rain, feeling the totemic essence, of my own passage through the realms with my world upon my back.
As I make my way back to my camp, I encounter a young traveler on the road, distressed. He asks me if he can walk besides me, and we drop into conversation and counsel. He speaks of suffering, I speak of forgiveness. He speaks of feeling trapped, and I speak of the means of liberation. As we deepen, I offer him a healing, touching his chest lightly (with his permission) and guiding him through a forgiveness meditation
“Whoa!”he exclaims, after a pair of quiet invocations. “I really feel that!! Going up and down inside me!”
I nod. Such is the nature of awareness, dissolving the wounds of self-judgment and allowing the vitality to flow through.
“I’ve been hoping to meet someone like you on the Path” he says, as a deep sense of right-alignment comes through me, the recognition that we have arrived in synchronicity in perfect timing, for each of us to play our role in the Great Story.
Here, I feel myself as what I am being, an avatar of the Green, meeting my fellow adventurers, giving and receiving healing on our shared journey to a more heavenly Earth.
The feeling of sanctity and resonance with the deva continues as I make my way to camp, feeling the Goddess surrounded my passage into the forest.
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