Friday, April 04, 2014

Bardic Magic: Awen Exchanged: Bardic Spirits

To speak to the Spirits of the Land, I went to the nearby railroad cut. On one side of the tracks was a small park and on the other side, a large park with a man-made lake. A pedestrian bridge crossed over the tracks to connect the two parks. Running through my neighborhood, the railroad is a constant presence in our lives. Meanwhile, the Land Spirits have accepted the railroad and often use it to connect with people. 

When I arrived at the small park, I asked to be received by the Spirits of the Land. While walking the path to the bridge, I gloried in the first day of Spring. It was a warm day, whispering of life ready to reappear. As I approached the bench by the bridge, a robin hopped out of the woods into the clearing. Cocking its head towards me, the bird trilled a melody. I was welcomed by the Spirits of the Land. 

While sitting at the bench, soaking up the warm sun, I waited for a spirit to speak to me. Then freight train rattled on through bringing with it, the Being of the Cut. Apparently this ancient Being enjoyed playing with the trains. The Being also like watching people crossing the bridge back and forth. 

The Being of the Cut first noticed people when they blasted into its hill many years ago. Curious, It approached the workers and were told that they were Irish. The workers regarded the Being as one of “Sidhe,” although It did not know what that meant. However, the Being did like that the workers always respectfully greeted It. Afterwards, the Being became more kindly disposed to people and their trains. 

The Being of the Cut told me that It knew me, and regarded me as an old friend. For many years, I would come in the Spring to look for the bluets, growing amongst the moss on the rocks at the cut. I also would search for the white and yellow violets later on. The Being enjoyed my delight at finding these little flowers. As the Being told me this, It settled around me like an old favorite blanket, cozy and warm.

 After a while, I asked for a token of our bond.  Confused, the Being said, “Are not the bluets and violets, which are soon to bloom, enough?” Embarrassed, I apologized for presuming too much. Sitting for a while longer, I wanted to make sure that the Being was not disappointed in me.

 Walking up the path to the road, I was surprised by a Promethea silk moth, a large black moth with gold-silver trim. The moth danced in front of me and showed off its gold-silver tips. Then a second one came and the two tangoed higher and higher up through the trees. I was witnessing a mating dance. Then one of the moths returned to rest on the ground, next to my feet. A few minutes later, the moth flew around me, glimmering in the sun. After that, it flew off to rest in the nearby leaf litter.

 I think that the Being wanted me to return and spend more time in its company. To the Being, I was a friend. We shared in the joy of the first day of Spring. Leaving, I felt whole, and eagerly awaited for the bluets to appear.

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