A Vehicle for Transformation

atc

Thought and Memory ATC by Cle

There are many stories in Native cultures about the mystery and magic of this elusive black bird. Shamans know the power of an unexpected piercing sound in altering consciousness. Ravens exercise this power, emitting as they do, a variety of sounds, some quite piercing and startling. Ravens are associated with psychic abilities, and their feathers are sometimes used to aid clairvoyance. If Raven has flown into your life, you can be sure that something unusual will be happening, something out of the Void, from the Great Mystery. While you can't fully prepare for the mysterious, it is good to meet Raven not with fear, but rather with an appreciation for its magic.

Meet Vi Jones

Vi

Vi is a transplanted Welsh woman living now with her life partner in Arizona. She is proud of having been born and raised in Wales, the daughter of a tall and handsome father and a strict mother.

Vi is an author and a poet. She is deeply involved in photography and is excited by the possibilities presented by the digital age. She has recently taken up digital painting. Several years ago, she discovered the Soul Food Cafe and through it has added several new creative dimensions to her life.

At eighty years of age and a cancer survivor, she feels she has much to look forward to, and is taking full advantage of the learning possibilities coming her way.

Her advice is to never allow the brain to atrophy...to keep moving forward both physically and mentally. Do that, and you'll do okay.

Vi has a collection of her whimsical art work at Paths of Time.

Engaging Priscilla

Priscilla

Vi, more than any other Raven, knows the powers of Priscilla. Priscilla, the small Soul Food Cafe Ambassador of goodwill is currently staying with Vi in Arizona. Fans of the Advent Calendars will recall that they spend happy hours together in 2007 when Priscilla learned all about using a Wacom. You can follow the extraordinary journey that Priscilla has undertaken on her personal blog.

Dolphin Dreams

Slicing through the water like a sharpened knife.
My legs clasped around your smooth and graceful belly,
arms forward of your dorsal fin.
Lovers in these restless waters,
moving together in perfect unison.
We feel the power of the ocean,
I feel the power of you.

I am naked as are you, as nature intended us to be.
You are suited to spend your life
forever swimming these salty seas.
We break the surface in a shower of sunlit jewels
and soar into an arc of perfect symmetry,
Then, like an arrow,
we slice the surface with barely a ripple to mark our passage.
You dive and I am with you.
You crest and I am there.
We are lovers rising,
aiming for the sun,
but returning as you must to inner space.

We skim the surface,
playful now
as we speed toward the shore,
where you gently lay me down
on a warm and sandy beach.
Don't go, I cry
as you swiftly swim away.
I want to stay with you forever,
be your mate, share your aquatic realm.
But, you are gone and I'm left
tethered to the land,
but hoping,
always hoping,
that someday you will return
to take me with you,
to live forever
in your changing,
restless palace of the deep.

Vi Jones
©August 29, 2005

Responding to the Call

In order to be ready! If you have even the slightest inclination to slip through the portal and join Enchanteur on one of her journey's you really better get yourself organised and, if you have not done so already, create a WordPress account. You really do need to set up a treasure box, ready to fill with memories.

The Rookery - Day Seventeen

My voice is no more than a sigh in the wind,
A falling leaf,
One among many,
A raindrop that doesn’t touch the ground,
A tiny bird lost in a storm.

A Glimpse Is All That Is Needed

Advent

Sands of Time

Like so many Ravens, Vi Jones packed her bags at short notice and slipped through the portal, into the world of le Enchanteur and Rainbow Beach.

beach

rainbowbeach

The sand
So warm and soft
Beneath my feet
Though once a cool
And hard rock
Mountain peak.
A beacon,
Abode of the gods,
It has evolved,
weathered down,
Slowly,
So very slowly
Until it is
What we know today as
Rainbow Beach.

As I lay relaxed
Upon this golden strand,
I feel in every core of being
The heavens—
Touched as they were
By every single
Grain of sand,
And know
There is.
Nowhere
I would rather be
Than here—
Here at Rainbow Beach.

Vi Jones
©December 4, 2008

redcactus

Veils of Fabric

I thought, the other night, that I had fallen through the fabric that separates the conscious from the subconscious, and discovered the veil to be surprisingly thin, and that while the conscious is vaguely aware of the subconscious, the subconscious is totally unaware of the conscious.

I wonder then, if when I’m in the realm of the subconscious, as in my dreams, have I entered another reality? Am I on the back side of the fabric with no knowledge of who I am? That can’t be true of course, because in my dreams, I am often very much aware of myself—perhaps more so than I am in my so-called conscious state.

When I step from conscious to subconscious reality, am I still lying in my bed, or is my body nothing more than an empty shell awaiting my return—a little apprehensive perhaps, not knowing if I will return this time? Or is my bed empty, the still warm sheets the only clue to my having been there at all?

And what of the people I meet when I fall through the tear in the fabric? Has anyone else ever noticed the mix of the dream crowd—the interaction of contemporary friends from conscious reality with those long lost and forgotten—childhood chums perhaps—and even those who reside now beyond that other veil? It seems those who reside forever in the Palace of Ancestors, though lost forever to our conscious reality, are amazingly active in our subconscious, intermingling in ways that are beyond my comprehension—intermingling as easily as if they were strolling down the Champs-Elysées.

If, in my subconscious state I am in another reality, then why are memories of my experiences there sometimes garbled while at other times they are crystal clear? And what if the tear in the fabric is repaired before I return to conscious reality? What then? Do I float rudderless between realities, or will I be drawn toward that other veil while allowing the sheets on my still warm bed to cool?

Vi Jones
©March 28, 2006

A Sigh in the Wind

My voice is no more than a sigh in the wind,
A falling leaf,
One among many,
A raindrop that doesn’t touch the ground,
A tiny bird lost in a storm.

So what does it mean if I am not heard,
Not noticed,
Not recognized?

It means simply
That I walk a different path,
That I shun the mob,
The crowd,
The social scene.

And does it really matter
If I find not the fame I seek
So long as I keep seeking?
For when there is nothing more to seek,
There will be nothing left,
Except the deep, dark void of inner space.

Vi Jones
©August 16, 2008