Hello, Komodo. Galen.
The drum reverberates through my chest. I am aware of him first, as I am many of the times – my power animal. My beautiful Komodo Dragon. I can see his green eyes across the vast plane of my inner grove. It is night. The moon is in the sky and the water of the lake is calm. I don’t know how he and I get to each other, but we are there, pressed in a flash, and he drags me under the surface of the pool.
It has been so long, and yet there is familiarity. I am apologetic. He is dismissive. We drip from the top of the stone ceiling of his cave lair into the pool of blood in the Under World. Coming up on the little shore, he licks me clean. There is silence. Understanding. I can sense the fire of the nearby volcano. The glow of embers.
I don’t remember everything he said. You are my human. Humans break promises. I understand. I am always here. It’s okay.
There is just intense desire to be with him now, to feel his strength.
We venture to the graveyard. I need to bury parts of myself. I need to let go.
There is chanting. There is fire. I throw hunks of bone and flesh into the fire. We dance.
I release the parts of me I no longer need. I release the parts of me that refuse to heal. That think they cannot heal. That hold me back. I release… I release… I release.
We march. My hands and arms are in the air.
I can heal. I will heal. I am strength. I am courage. I am healing.
There is some crescendo of sound and we snap back to the Middle World. I see my spirit self – she is gloriously elegant. A dream. Not that far out of reach.
I need to talk to my Goddess, I am keenly aware. I am nervous. I look to Galen for reassurance. He kisses me. Tells me to rest. My body cannot keep drumming like that. Switch it up. Lay down. Get comfortable. I’ll guide you when you get back. I listen, however reluctant to leave him as I always am.
There are spirits breathing in my ears. I am drifting in wind, riding the waves of this journey. Galen stands in waiting, reassures me again, and launches me into the air. I am the Golden Eagle, my masculine aspect.
I soar up into the clouds, over Olympus, a usual sight. Next, over some strange battle ground that is dusty and gray where Mjolnir sits in the center amidst chaotic jutting pillars of stone. I get the feeling I want to stop here, but not now. The ode to Freya comes full force into my mind for a moment. I pause, my throat suddenly tickling so much I cough and the journey is temporarily interrupted. I ease back in. Breath. Hear the spirits.
Then, I see Brigid’s house. It is as usual – a small floating island with a cozy cottage, a serene waterfall, a wide healing well, and lots of perfectly, emerald green grass. I land. May I come in?
The back and forth is short lived. Brigid launches into what is perhaps to date one of her longest speeches to me. She is not a stern Goddess; she knows I have been overwhelmed, but there is a sort of… understanding that some of my suffering might have been avoided had I not lost sight of my spirituality. She does not spend long reminding me of this. I sense she gets what I am going through.
Brigid tells me many things. I am strong. I’m coming up on a time of great change. She repeats some of the things I am just now remembering Galen had said, as well – that I need to work on me. Be concerned for me. Stop worrying about everyone else and their opinions. There is power in me.
Giving me a healing goblet of water, she tells me to drink up and heal. For the next week I am to use my malachite stone and pray at night, a true, heartfelt prayer, for I have abandoned even prayer as of late save for times of desperation. Repeat a mantra. Pray. Light a fire in my heart. Repeat for at least one week, and then review.
She leads me outside to the healing well and I undress, stepping into and floating on the surface of the water. She cleanses me three times: You are healing.
When she is done, she gives me more reminders of what I can be – what I really am. Who I am. Where I’m going.
Then, she advises me to go speak to Morrigan.
Brigid draws a portal. It is black and purple – thin. I step through and find myself on a sandy, gray beach, crows, ravens, and vultures flying about. I head up towards the hut on the hill, covered in bones. Inside, Morrigan in the form of Badb is standing by a shelf of potions and a stone slab table covered in dust and scrolls.
We speak, hushed and serious.
I am a battle maiden in my own right. I am powerful. I am strong. I must never forget this.
She gives me a potion. It is purple.
To fortify your spirit in the times to come. To remind you of your strength.
I ask of my love, for he is truly one of her chosen. You must be as an aspect of the Goddess on Earth to him. He needs a strong partner – a truly worthy partner – to hold him accountable and challenge him. You can be that; you can be inspiring.
She gives me one more reminder as she draws a portal – green – to go back to the Middle Realm to see Galen: There is power in me and I can save lives.
It’s no small order. But, it is the path I am meant to walk.
From Galen: Put myself first, and others will benefit.
From Brigid: Be the healer you are.
From Morrigan: Be the Goddess manifest on earth. Be strength and femininity. You are a warrior.