Blue Wren

Me and Blue Wren sat in the pōhutukawa tree. Spoke of ancestors of land, animals, trees. Felt deeply how the cosmological Christ is returning and those who see him find him covered with moss and muddy feet. To stand on the land - to be grounded in mother country is what he said to me.

You are in an initiatory process - going to the underworld. There you may meet Baba Yaga - and you have done all the preparation you can. She will ask you what you want. But you must answer her like the Irish, in a turn-about fashion - you are, aren’t you.

You will have the finest manners and there are rules in the underworld that even the gods themselves cannot break. Return your naked feet to soil as often as you can - hold your dignity - and breathe through.

This is not a holiday.

Rather a religious experience - a calling to that deeper part of you to come home - tend to the watering hole, the well, that spiritual place that must not be muddied or all life dies. So, gird yourself man. Hold your sword and shield - take your breastplate of righteousness - be swift to hear, slow to speak and slow to wrath.

And love. Love her. Love all you meet - and in doing so, love yourself. For all is unfolding exactly as it should. All is well and all manner of things will be well. Forget your best laid plans - of success, failure or destruction. And come back to the simple anchor of her - this land goes with you, this mother is breathing through you and you shall return no longer in exile.