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MYSTERY - a haunted home
MIST AERIE- where fairies roam
MS. STORY - a woman’s tome
MYSTICAL - the MIST I CALL a favored poem
In the busyness of life, ‘getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.’ But when we return to Source, to the
wellspring which lies inside, the embrace of The Mother, we are freed from the grip of rigid codes of behavior.
We became an Elysian Field of infinite possibility, not a clone of what has gone before. Guided by the rites - and
wrongs - of the past, but not controlled by them. We have returned to Avalon. To Eden. To Great Mystery. We are
one again with living spirit.
To be in the mystery is to be in the mist. If I imagine, for example, that I am a tiger in the jungle, my senses
may become more acute. I feel the ground beneath my paws pause; the space between steps. I hear the monkeys,
smell the wild pigs. The rain pours down along my pelt, and I lick my face to taste myself. As man-tiger, weir-tiger.
weird-tiger, I have taken one great step into mystery. But suppose I take another. Suppose I become not just a tiger,
but a spirit tiger. Now I am in the jungle, but not of it. The rain falls down not along my fur, but through it,
streaming among the cells of my body. I may pad between the trees, but as easily pass through them. Not only animals
come to my attention, but other spirit forms of earth and sky. I am now between the worlds. I might spread out the
particles of my being to such porosity that I leave this physical domain altogether. Or equally, I might tighten them
and pull myself back into physicality.
This ability to shift between the worlds has always been known to the mystic and the shaman. But now even the
scientists recognize it. It is the virtual field of particles that might or might not be, that only take on form
and choice when consciousness has been brought to them. It is the realization that we live among other forms of life
in the most literal way; that not only do a world of microbes inhabit our blood streams, but that mini-angels, gnomes,
fairies and tygers may be ‘burning bright’, splashing in the spurts of blood our hearts send out. As we would prefer
clear waters for our swim, so do they prefer the non-polluted stream.
Another great weir-being is the Eagle, often recognized as a totem of spirit. Eagles, like other faeried creatures,
live high in misty haunts. These ‘mist aeries’ are spirit homes and gauzy dreams; they elevate our hopes, suffuse and
sustain our sense of a life both beyond and within.
You are the mystery. The mist aerie; nest of Spirit. You are the story emerging from the mist.
Write it right it; rite it your way.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Angelynx. A divination deck. John Sacelli. Chris Deschaine.