Ceremonies of Reparation: Ceremony #5

 

Ceremonies of Reparation

 

For those interested in the background of these ceremonies, please refer to the September 8, 2021 blog entry.

 

Ceremony #5, Jan. 2, 2022

 

BACKGROUND

 

It was the first time living directly next to the ocean.  We had quickly vacated a previous temporary location and were seriously considering borrowing considerable amounts of money to purchase a llama farm in Quebec (which was incredibly affordable compared to BC prices).  However, the sellers had presented inaccurate farm-income numbers (which were corrected by their accountant) making a purchase less tempting given the discrepancy.  And negotiating a seasonal child-care schedule was proving difficult, so we let the potential farm go.  However, we were unhoused once again for a few weeks, and quickly eating through borrowed money at an Air B&B.  We had sold our beloved yurt (as finding land-space for it was becoming more and more difficult), given away our beloved farm-animal helpers, and were generally feeling in a tight-spot.

 

We ended up purchasing an older RV – at least the house could move with us – and signed a lease at Cherry Pt Marina.  The living circumstances were less than ideal – no land to farm, or even garden, no privacy (side-by-side RV’s and trailers), and extremely tiny-home living for 3 people (and a cat!).  Not to speak of having to learn A to Z about RV living in a matter of minutes. My husband applied to job after job with no success.  It was a difficult winter. We struggled.

 

I so missed access to trees and forest and a place for ceremony.  However, since we were there for at least the winter, I figured I would make friends with the ocean.  I discovered there was a small beach at the end of the marina that I could easily walk to daily, and in fact made it my refuge several times a day.  I foraged for stones, shells, and bones in the washed-up debris and material each day.  It became a walking meditation – to observe the tides with the movements of the moon (something I did not “know” with my mind, but began to understand through direct relationship), to observe the constantly changing shoreline, and everything else that came and went with the waves.  At the end of the little beach, next to a large fallen cedar tree that defined the “edge” of this part of the beach, was a tree whose roots were in a hillside, whose lower trunk was resting on the beach, and whose branches extended upward from the curve of the rest of the trunk.  During high tide, her lower trunk was lapped by the ocean waves.  During low tide, her branches extended over a good portion of the beach.  I called her the Valkyrie Tree, and then weeks later, the Selkie Tree.

 

At night, through wind, rain, snow, or clear skies, I would walk out to the beach, greet the heron and otter who fished there nightly, greet the starfish that sometimes appeared in shallow waters, look amongst the beach treasures, get sprayed by the spitting worms buried in the sand, and – if it was lowest tide and full moon – take long walks (at least 1 – 2 kms) on the exposed ocean bed toward Hwts'ahwum (Cherry Point Beach), exploring coves and overhanging trees and massive logs in the darkness.  I felt peace.

 

And, regardless of low or high tide, I would pray nightly with the tree.  In return, Valkyrie-Selkie began to protect and teach me.  I decided she would be my place of ceremony when the tides were low enough to sit on the sand next to her.  Many people had fires on the beach.  The ceremony spot was farther away than the usually-used fire-pit, so I figured it would be both safe and private.  I was wrong, at least on one account.  On the appointed ceremony night, I lit a small Prayer Fire in my metal “cauldron” (a cast-iron cooking pot) which sat upon stones and sand.  It was a simple ceremony, and as I came to the final prayers, I heard someone yell out to me from the marina, some distance away.  “Hey, you better be careful, I’m gonna call the fire-station!!!” I called back that the fire was safely contained in a metal pot.. But my nervous system was put on high-alert, and it took considerable energy to ground and come back to complete the Fire.

 

My prayers with the Tree became a mix of prayer and envisioning work.  One night, after I completed prayers, I made a physical representation of the land I dreamed of stewarding and living on next to its base.  I used shells, stones and sticks to make a crude house, barn, sheds, ceremony firepit, trees, and so on.  When it was complete, I lit obkuryuvannya (herbs for smoke), offered prayers and thanks to ancestors, the Tree, Spirit, and all helpers.  When it was done, I felt so good!  I knew that however the water would alter it or wash it away would be perfect – because the next day, I could re-dream, re-create and transform…

 

An excerpt from my journal:

 

Dec 16, 2019

I am at Valkyrie Tree.  I look up with headlamp on to see her branches.  They appear dappled with lichen as if the bark is the skin of a leopard-seal.  She enfolds me in her branches.  On the ground I see a large, heavy fallen log – perhaps 20 feet long – carried to just in front of the small rock boulders surrounding the Valkyrie’s base – deposited by waters whose power is clearly deceptive.  We do not get large waves here – small lapping waves, but nothing that I have observed that has “force.” Yet, it is so very apparent that volumes of water flow in and out with the tides.  From where I currently stand, next to the tree, water at high tide would be at my calves, and 5 feet further in front of me, water would be at my waist, and yet another 5 feet, it would sit level with my shoulders or head.  And, where the waters-edge is now at low tide, would be 10 feet deep (or more) at high tide.

 

And so, along with the log, a short plank (3 feet long and 4 inches wide) was deposited like a ramp.  The lower end of the ramp is on the sand, directly in the centre of what had been my physical dream-land representation last night.  There is no remnant nor trace remaining of the design.  The upper end of the ramp rests on one of the small rock boulders.

 

I light obkuryuvannya, give thanks to the Valkyrie Tree, to the waters, and to the ancestors.  I pray that those whom I work with be supported in their healing.  Then I ask Valkyrie Tree, “What is the meaning of this log and plank?  Are they a ‘bad omen’, or a sign or message?”

 

She replied, “They are a gift from the Water.  She has received your vision and prayer, and these are here as proof…  You did ask to steward trees and forest.  She has brought you a log.”

 

“I do not understand the plank,” I state (clearly oblivious to Spirit’s sense of humor).

 

“Do not worry,” she replied, “its message will become clear.  Just accept and re-make.”

 

And so I made a new design, added and shifted a few elements, was thankful for the evolving fluidity, and then thanked Water and Tree again.

 

I ask Valkyrie, “Please hear my prayer, support this vision.  I do not know how it will come…”

 

“Do not worry, child.  It will come, it must.  Just continue to pray, hold the vision, trust.”

 

My mind turns to Vorona Molfar. It has been a long time since I have worked with him. [Translation: Crow Molfar.  Molfar/ Mol’farka is a term for the medicine-people of the Carpathian Mountains and sub-Carpathian plateaus where my Ukrainian grandfather was born.  Vorona – crow – is one of the “totems” of the pre-Christian clans and tribes of that region.  Vorona Molfar is best described as an ancestor entity who first made himself known to me in a series of encounters in a forest on Tsartlip territory in 2012.]

 

And so, I reach out from my heart and call to him.  I do not know if he hears me.  I turn and walk a few steps away.

 

Valkyrie calls out, “Come child, you are not complete.  Connect with me.”

 

So, I turn and walk back, place a hand on her trunk, and close my eyes to breathe.  No images emerge, yet I feel a deeper connection forming.

 

Then, to my left, near the water, I sense a Being – a dark shape, male.

 

Valkyrie spoke, “He is not for you to work with.  He is water-borne, you are not.  He is curious, and if you were to interact now, he would be harmful.  Not from intent, but because you do not know enough, and you are not water-borne.”  I felt the presence of Vorona Molfar in her voice as she spoke and knew he was present as well.

 

“Stay within the reaches of my branches, and I will protect you,” she assured.

 

I could sense and see, out of the corner of my eye, the Being’s shape.  I walked, staying within Valkyrie’s branch-reach, away from my prayer-spot.  I grow tired and want to go to sleep…  Suddenly my right leg is very cold and I see a shadow step very close, just outside of the edge of Valkyrie’s branches.

 

Vorona Molfar calls out, “Do not walk that way along the beach when you sense or see him.  Only go when he is not present or near.”

 

Valkyrie tells me to walk along the upper beach area to get home but do not look back at her, as the Being is there – at least, not until I am far away, which is what I do.  I only turn back when I am ready to walk toward the exit off the beach.  My leg remains cold for a long time.

 

Dec. 18, 2019

I work on Book 1 [for those who may not be aware, I am writing 2 books at the moment...].  Words from Ma both soothe me and remind me of my tasks.  I feel sad for the loss of time and adventure with her.  For the loss of freedom to explore her forests, for the loss of walking in the life- and soul-giving wild and ancient places.

 

I go outside to make evening prayers.  As the RV door opens, I hear an unusual sound – crashing waves upon the shore.  As I walk toward the beach, it gently rains.  However, the usually calm water is active, almost angry.  The sound is loud, and the water is much higher than I have seen it the past few weeks.  I wonder if the tide is coming in and if I will have enough time to pray before being engulfed in waves.  Still, there is about 10 feet of beach between the Valkyrie Tree and the water’s edge.

 

No log – all signs of the fallen tree and little plank are gone – not a trace to be found.  Nor of the dream-land designs.

 

I touch Valkyrie, light obkuryuvannya, give thanks and make prayers.  The waves crash closer.  I can sense the Being from the other evening lurking in the shadowy waters.

 

“He still watches you,” Valkyrie says.

 

“Mother, keep me safe.  I trust you.  Are the waters rising?  The prayer design in the sand… I have not yet re-made it,” I say.

 

“Quick, child, just draw in the sand – there is little time,” she offers.

 

I grab a stick and draw an outline, designate stones and scrawls as forest, house, studio, ceremony Fire-pit, and the resources and means to support ourselves in this place.  “Thank you,” I speak to those who would hear.  The water is now 8 feet away, yet the sound vibrates through me – I can feel the intensity, and… I can feel him.

 

“Go now,” Valkyrie says.  “Stay safe and high up on the shore.” I am uncertain if she is cautioning about the water, or about him, or both.  I do not pause to ask – just quickly walk away.  As I reach the exit path to the beach, I pause and look back at the waters.  Truly, they are wild this night.

 

My longing for time in the forest brought me to explore a small path located up the hill from the marina.  The forest was not particularly large – just a relatively small swath of trees that were promoted as part of a future community “park” for the adjacent lots that were being developed.  Yet, they were trees, and satisfied my need for exploration and communing time.

 

I continued to pray nightly and adorned the Valkyrie Tree with prayer ties (strips of cloth).  Then, a few months into our stay, we were given surprising news.  The CVRD had ordered the marina to terminate the leases of the majority of residents.  The marina had wrongfully allowed too many trailers and RV’s to reside in the location.  We were to leave within 2 months.

 

We eventually found a new location to move – another temporary spot which has its own story for a future land reparation ceremony.

 

 

OFFERINGS

 

In preparation for the ceremony, I made a Motanka (traditional sacred doll) as well as a Pysanka (traditional sacred egg).  For more detailed information about these traditions, you can refer to the following links:

 

https://artofthelandancestors.blogspot.com/2021/12/the-art-and-making-of-motanky.html

 

https://artofthelandancestors.blogspot.com/2021/12/bone-amulets-and-drum.html

 

https://listenthelandspeaks.blogspot.com/2021/09/ceremonies-of-reparation-background-i.html

 

 

The Motanka has many strips of cloth around her neck. It is symbolic of the strips of cloth hung from the branches of the Valkyrie Tree – a way of venerating a tree as sacred during/ for ceremony, as well as offering prayers and wishes to be carried by the winds to Spirit.  Hanging strips of cloth and binding with prayer has become an important way to honour my long-ago ancestors along both my mother and father lines.  The Motanka, who is shaped as a solar cross (signifying the meeting of the realms, as well as the meeting of the cosmic and earth forces), wearing the cloth strips around her head, neck, and shoulders, was an indication of the upper realm and cosmic forces meeting the middle/ earthly realm (outstretched arms) in a sacred and prayerful manner.  I chose the colours to represent the waters (blue and deep teal), sunsets and beaches (orange) – all of which were so prominent in my experience there.

 

The Pysanka was drawn with two distinct sides.  The spiral and waves it contains represents the movements of time, seasons, and cycles of nature (moon and sun), as well as the perpetual movement of the tides.  The opposite side depicts the Valkyrie Tree with her hanging cloth strips and the ocean that laps at her base.

 

 

CEREMONY

 

Dark moon fell on the first Sunday of 2022 – January 2^nd.  I anticipated that the ceremony would be straightforward.  The roads were heavily iced, which is a big deal for us here in mid-Vancouver Island (and I know most of those living outside of Vancouver Island are laughing at this point!).  I had traversed the road that leads to the marina during winter of 2019-2020.  It is treacherous and one can easily get stuck or slide into ditches.  So, I parked at the top of the road, and decided to walk the 15 minutes to the marina.  It was clear, crisp and yet mild outside.  The walk took me past the wooded trail, and as the land that was being developed came into view, I saw a real-estate board with 4 properties for sale.

 

I continued to walk though I heard a small whisper somewhere inside that ceremony would (or should?) be in the woods.

 

As I descended the steep hill that took me toward the marina, the sight that greeted me was one of deterioration.  There had been no upgrades, nor efforts put into upkeep at the sight.  In fact, the perimeter of the wooden docks was blocked off by orange fencing, which also blocked the entrance to the beach.  The tide was also high, which meant I couldn’t traverse under the docks to get to the Valkyrie Tree (which would have been possible during low tide).  I sent a heart greeting to her from a distance and traversed back up the hill toward the wooded path.

 

Once I reached the head of the trail, I stopped in my tracks.  My heart fell. The forest had been devastated and destroyed.  I felt perplexed.  The photo on the sales-board depicted the forest before it was cut down.  The signage when I lived at the marina had indicated that the trail would be public and would lead through the small forest, presumably as a place of respite.  The new signage still referred to this as a trail.  I could not fathom why the majority the trees now lay unceremoniously on the ground.  My only thought is that they were cut to provide a feeble view of the ocean.

 

I walked with heavy heart.  A few trees remained.  I waited until a tree called me and I gently placed my hands upon it.  Asking the tree to accept the ceremonial offerings, I knew they served multiple purposes now.  First, to extend gratitude to these lands – here on the trail, and also for the beach and Valkyrie Tree below (the little forest was up a steep cliff, just above the beach) – and to the peoples and ancestors of these lands.  Second, as an honouring of and apology to the trees and forest that were destroyed.

 

The tree agreed to be recipient of the offerings.  And, in response to my heavy heart, she said, “This is a small loss.  This is a small loss…  It is small compared to all of the losses over time across these lands.”  That statement was not intended to be reassuring.  Rather, it simply amplified the significance of the loss – one among so many losses.  An accumulation of losses.

 

I buried the Pysanka at the base of the front of the tree (closest to the walking path), and then buried the Motanka at the base of the backside of the tree (furthest from the walking path).  When I was complete, I picked up a small linen string that I had cut and brought with me.  I had not known why the string was important – I just knew it needed to accompany me this day.  Tying it to a small broken branch, I asked it carry personal prayers…  The same prayers I had asked each night at the beach – to help us find land we belong to, land that we can co-steward and be embraced by.

 

As I turned to leave, I began to note all of the English Ivy that covered standing and fallen trees alike.  It was a further statement of colonialism coating the land…  Coat the trees, strangle the trees, take over the land, and then cut it all down (including the tools of colonization – in this case, the Ivy), or be overrun by those same tools/ forces, leading to demise of everything...

 

Walking out of the forest and back toward the vehicle, I passed a vine of the Mother – Ma Honeysuckle.  For all of the heaviness of the ceremony, Ma was a lovely reminder to integrate the teachings, remember my commitments, and remain in clear and open heart-seeing.  The ceremony was complete.