Spirits in the Material World: What Raven Sang to Me Today

"It's a Journey, not a race.
Along the way, we are meant to sing and dance, find our place."

For a woman who thinks she's not suited to teaching asana, I've been doing a lot of just that this past two weeks.  Somewhere around the fifth class this week, the thought occurred to me that I am practising Sarah's advice (although I can't say it's been intentional): "The practice which attracts you least is the practice you most need."  I'm not sure I entirely agree with this, but subbing for honoured teachers is certainly intimidating and I'm all for tromping on a new path from time to time, just to see where it leads me.

At the very least, a hectic schedule early in the week leaves me all the more grateful for a day to myself.  Mr. DD headed out to play hockey this morning; I had the house to myself (with pets), so at 9 a.m., I set my loom on the kitchen table.  Mickey settled himself in his usual supervisory spot and I began working.  This is the tapestry at the start of the day:

Here she is, six hours later:

Raven is not quite finished, but the piece is halfway there.  (The resident critic tells me that this isn't a Raven, because the lump on his head isn't big enough.  Someone may end up with a lump on his head.  I promise to provide said lump as mindfully as I can manage.) There are things I would change, if I was weaving something more than a sample, but I'd rather keep going forward than tracking back. Besides, Raven tells me that what I'm weaving isn't about this piece.  No, Raven is guiding me to a switchback, whether I want to go there or not.

There's another work in this house, another tapestry about a Spirit Creature in a Garden, a piece full of colour and symbols and fire.  That piece was abandoned years ago when it turned out to be the last tapestry I was weaving before I was called to deal with other aspects of my life which required more attention.  I lost the heart to work on her, so there she sits, waiting for the time when I felt strong enough to venture back to The Garden. I haven't been able to walk past my fears on this one.  Instead, I wander up to that big obstacle in my path, take a peek and retreat.

Now, something in me or the work grows impatient.  "It's been long enough; it's time Now. Finish what you started and move on. It's time to dance and sing another song."  Raven keeps calling, telling me to keep going, to walk up to that rock of fear, march around it, over it or blast through it, if need be. I'm not quite there yet, but Raven's voice grows louder and stronger. He will not be ignored. Perhaps, soon, maybe, I can soar with Raven over that rock and sing my own Song again.

Namaste.