P The wisdom of swans

P The wisdom of swans
Sunday April 14, 2013:
The sun is out. I lean against our Samhain Ash tree, connecting in with her
loving energy. The trunk is warm. I don't know what I ask, except for some
aid regarding the Schwannoma.

I sense the white serpent beautiful lady ash. Her swan-like neck is elegant
and curved. Her tree limbs arch out on either side and curve down as though
she has her arms around me.

The thunder of galloping hooves shakes the earth. Coming closer now, they
slow until the heavy purposeful tread of a horse tells me she is
approaching. She whickers softly just beside me.
Ah, here is the white horse goddess, pale and creamy like the ash serpent,
her arched neck a little like the curving ash serpent's graceful body. Her
long face framed by her shiny mane. I softly stroke her cheek.

We canter across the heath, her hooves pounding on the soft muddy tuffety
Heathland. Faster and faster we go, the wind snatching her main and blowing
it into my face.
Buffeted by the wind of our speed, I feel her lift from the ground.
Suddenly we soar up towards the bright sun, propelled by great white wings.
Their updraft is cooling and exhilarating. I hang on for dear life as the
heath, north London, the city, the south east and finally the whole country
circles beneath us. We soar up to the stars and fly amongst them. They are
singing in the stillness, vibrating it seems with the energy of the beat of
the horse goddess's wings.

We circle the world. Descending, countries and seas spin beneath us,
spreading out, growing bigger as we move earthwards. Somewhere in the midst
of the turning green and brown landmass edge by the shining blue sea,
mountains appear, then forests, then Heathland in the middle of which lies a
great spreading lake gleaming in the morning light. There in the middle, a
wooded island is dark and richly green. Around it,Paler objects move in the
water. We alight onto the muddy little beach, where I see flotillas of swans
and geese are gracefully drifting towards us.
Two stately and elegant white swans arrive at the water's edge and climb out
onto the shore. Sliding down off the horse goddess's back, I kneel down in
the mud, for these two command respect. They stand there, just looking. The
moment is a little awkward. I breathe shallowly and keep as still as a
statue, lest I frighten them off.

How can I love and encourage this Schwannoma to do her best for me, I think?
The two swans lean towards each other. In their embrace, their long curving
elegant necks entwine.

Maybe I must be loyal to myself, like they are loyal to each other, I
wonder? Could I seek an intimate relationship with myself, love myself
deeply? If I do this, need the Schwannoma grow anymore? Might doing this
help to shrink it perhaps?
The swans united and content-seeming, are still. They are observing me as I
kneel before them. What is the Schwannoma's positive intention for me, I ask
myself? Something to find out perhaps?

Still kneeling, I reach out my hands to the two swans. Gently, I lay a hand
on each soft snowy white breast. Patiently, they allow the impertinence.
Their feathers are so fleetingly tender almost.
They move back to the water and launch themselves gracefully into the lake.
I watch them glide away. Behind, soft white fluttering breast feathers lie,
teased by a gentle wind. I pick them up, stroking my right cheek
experimentally with them.

The horse goddess blows through her nostrils and shifts. I climb back up
and we spin out into the sky. Below me, the two gliding swans become pale
dots on the shining water and then the lake disappears into greenness.

The heath rotates beneath us. We land, gallop, trot and walk until arriving
back at the ash tree. I slide off the horse goddess. Laying my hand
tenderly on her neck, I lean my cheek into hers in silent thanks.

She is gone. The tree is warmly supporting me. The sun on my right cheek
is a soft gold and loving touch, like the quiet breth of a pony at rest.