Spirit Spring

On Hearing

I went on a walk today in a place I have been only once before. That time I didn't venture far, but I liked the feeling it gave me. There are several canyons coming off a mountain range in an area that looks pretty flat and barren. To most eyes it would appear 'wide open, yes, but kind of plain... and... brown'. Ah, but as I tell people when they have this sort of reaction: It's a trick! This is where wonder often waits, as I have learned here over and over again.

So today, I decided I would spend the day in these canyons and see what I came across. It's very lightly visited which is second best to never-visited as far as wild walks go. It's very easy to leave the trail behind and walk as you may around the land. It isn't crawling with predators or plentiful loud talkers (give me mountain lions or give me death). It is the best way to 'hike', to me, for this is when Spirit is heard best.

Photo by Kya

Photo by Kya

Raven as Guide

I decided I would begin by climbing to one of the peaks, most of them cliffs along the mesa overlooking the many thousands of pristine acres below. I wanted one that wouldn't send me plummeting down its rocks, but would give me a good lay of the land to plan my whereabouts.

When I got to the top, I put my arms out like a bird and closed my eyes, feeling the winds over me. I pretended to fly to some beautiful place and I could feel something special was near—a gentle 'Yes, this is what you will find', felt in my bones. Turning slow in a circle, 360 degrees were visible and sitting a mile or so away, there was a big arroyo that wandered as far as I could see.

I had another feeling: 'Walk that one'.

'That big one over there?' I asked back in breath.

A raven appeared in the distance and made my favorite sound in their otherworldly language. He flew along the arroyo, my feathered answer.

Photo by Christi

Photo by Christi

What Is Unseen

When I got down to it, the dry river bed and its rock banks were grand. The further I walked, the sanded path widened and the walls grew taller, until I was in a canyon. Here, at the entry, I felt as if I was a pilgrim walking into a temple, compelled to reverence. Straight red rock walls hundreds of feet high formed a sort of gate, like people built into mountains during antiquity—likenesses of pharaohs, sphinxes, and gods.

I was now in land with no human footprints, no bike tire tracks, no orange peels, sunglass lenses, underpants, or other wares that tend to fall off of hikers puzzlingly unmissed.

'Keep going' was what I felt repeatedly, and it felt Good, so I did.

I was captivated by the land growing and forming before me. What I began to hear with my ears was from Other: sage rustling where animals were not, small rocks rolling down from high right next to me, traces of whistles, pieces of a distant woman's laugh, a blown whisper next to my ear when wind wasn't there. I would see a figure—human, coyote, bird—in my peripheral vision but if I turned to look it was a rock, a twisted juniper, or nothing except blue sky. These things need no explanation for me, they make me feel less alone in this world.

Post_SpiritSpring3.png

When Rock Yields Water

All of this mesa and canyon land is very very dry. Aside from one arroyo during monsoons, water has not run through the beds in thousands (or perhaps even millions) of years. Trees have shriveled up and cactus spreads. Rock reigns here.

As I walked, I noticed less prickly things as growing grass appeared under my feet. The sand became darker, and animal prints became crisp in the richer dirt. I realized water was somewhere nearby and the thrill of discovering the unexpected and near-impossible ran through me. The sweet smell of cottonwoods hit my nose, those great gurglers of creeks and springs, and now I was certain. 'There is a spring', Spirit said and then I heard water trickling. I saw not just mud like the typical (although rare) spring here, but a clear flowing stream—gold and life, the desert's enlightenment.

Oh how the land changed, with this abundance of water. The sand undulated, powder soft and so fine that when I held it I could not see the grains. I put my nose to the ground and even the earth smelled of cottonwood. Grasses, dry from winter, I could see would lay over this place as green as the summer cottonwood leaves above. Flowering plants lined the small banks, empty branches now that would bloom anew in spring. How good every earthen texture here would feel on bare skin. I could do nothing else but stand there and let the tears well in my eyes, the unexpected beauty too overwhelming to hold in.

Post_SpiritSpring4.png

A Hawk's Medicine

I was gifted with a vision here, but that is mine to keep.

I came upon a young lady hawk eating a catch, still warm, for lunch. I was only feet from her, we were under the same tree. She didn't see me first, so I was able to watch her. Razor beak and ancient unknowable eyes pulled out the gentle rabbit's entrails, the perfect sweet fur I love so flying everywhere. The inside of the head was the final treasured treat. It was furious and primal, painful and illuminating.

Kya caught wind, ran to investigate, and the hawk took off. The loudness of her wings in flight was startling. I felt their wind when she was ten feet away. She followed us as we walked away, curious and hopping along branches close to me, watching and tilting her head. It felt as if she forgot about her meal and found us more interesting instead. A powerful bird, and a most beautiful blessing even with death.

Receiving and Offering

The stream flows down and pools into a spot big enough to sit in up to the neck, perfect for a rock to be placed there for sitting. In the entire length I traced, the water is crystal clear, and at the pool a tiny waterfall glints in the sun and keeps the soul flowing, always.

The cottonwoods are young, not as tall as older ones, but thick at the trunk and plenty enough for shade in the heat of midsummer. It is a place that is sacred, and I knew by the whispers and whistles that I am not the only one that shares in visiting. Other than animals and kindred wild folk, I tend to prefer my companions on hikes and dips to be unseen, so that is all okay with me.

During my walk back, I ruminated on what I will give in reciprocity for the gifts I received today. I walked in thanks, reverence, and knowing.

A Way to Free the Heart

Standing at the mouth of a cave, a black place where you are unable to see, unsure what waits inside as you journey into the dark, what do you do? What scares you in that moment?

What would happen if you had no fear? You can have no fear. Hold this thought firm in your mind, then begin your walk there and see.

To fear or not to fear

Self-Portrait with Death Playing the Fiddle. Arnold Böcklin (1872)

Self-Portrait with Death Playing the Fiddle. Arnold Böcklin (1872)

On a recent hike, I rounded a corner with dense trees to find a very large cave or perhaps an old mine—two times my height and maybe 100 feet deep, the day's light reached inside just enough that I could see a drop straight down into ink black. Nearby was a large flat rock, with geodes and crystals stacked upon it and I wondered if these came from the deep. I also wondered what made their finders decide to leave them there instead of taking them home as a prize. I stood a little distance away and felt fear rush over me, of nothing in particular at first except the unknown. The thought of going into this cave made me want to run fast and far back down the mountain away from it, for what if in the next second something large came out and took me in and down with it... my mind sometimes likes to go to the largest terror it can imagine and then play there with it. I began to dislike the cave and the power it had taken over the ways I was moving.

I am ever learning, and practicing, that when these feelings of fear arise, I do not have to run away from what is causing them. That is giving away your power to another force, where something you fear is controlling you, your spirit, your free will, your heart. I think we do not have to let this happen.

Down into the cave

I sat down in front of the cave. I sat in front of this giant hole in the earth, where I could see to the back as it dropped who knows how deep, and wondered Why I am afraid of this dearth? Is it the unknown depth? Is it the way I feel compelled to jump into the hole—an invading imp of the perverse. Is it the irrational fear of some force pulling me down into it? Perhaps it's the simple explanation that it looks ready to cave in at any second, building up for the cataclysmic moment since it was dug. Maybe it is all of these reasons.

In sitting there ruminating on the questions, I realized a very important thing: the source of the fear, the cave, no longer scared me. I still had no desire to enter it, but I did not feel a resentment for a lack of ability to do so—it was a calm knowing that I could now if I wanted. There were no binding feelings. I had achieved freedom. The simple act of sitting there with the fear instead of reacting gave my mind time to realize what my heart knew: I, my heart, my free will, my spirit, I am stronger than my mind and the things it faces.

Forward to the light

This is a small example, and I was quick to come to the conclusion I was not going to be afraid of a cave in the woods. Most cases in life are far more complex and to navigate the maze is a lengthier process, but I believe the lesson is the same. As you sit with fear and understand it instead of run away from it, you move through it and toward the freeing of your heart.

Isn’t this a major human dilemma: we are always, in everything we do, striving to reach our own state we imagine for our content heart—at points, we find fear is the ultimate enslaver of this most desired self. And it can be strong. The secret, I have found, is that we are always more powerful over it, if we believe ourselves to be. 

I have applied this to many things in my life prior to the cave, and others I am still working through; some have been lifelong, some common, others esoteric. I know that when I put work in toward combatting, accepting, embracing, moving through dark and fear, I am met every single time with light—with a happier heart, for I find myself freed, yet again. That's not to say the process isn't painful at times, or scary in itself. It can be met with unexpected trials and hardships, or go much differently than planned... but through this I persevere. I am confident that I am moving toward something good instead of something bad, and so I remain steady on the path. I've learned this thoroughly enough to be ever braver in my steps through life, where it turns out change is most often a joy.

And onward

I look at all of it as sort of an initiation, this process from dark to light shedding fears, onward to walking to our bliss, Eden, true happiness, pure love. It is possible to find it, but we must work and earn our way there by moving in ways that are brave and true, in whichever ways that means to us—to our hearts. 
 

Listening to the Creative Spirit

Good news, the tl;dr:

I have figured a way I can do custom orders based on my creation and work process.

The new page is in the works explaining details, and I look forward to connecting with you about your request when you feel called. 

Madonna Pietra degli Scrovigni, 1884. Marie Spartali Stillman ; Photos taken by me

Madonna Pietra degli Scrovigni, 1884. Marie Spartali Stillman ; Photos taken by me

When plans go awry

I spent the last year trying to make a 'plan' work for my business—I later learned it was not the way I was meant to truly work—and in that time, my creativity became very blocked. I have a handful of creative spirits that insist I work in certain ways or else the ideas slow down until they disappear. I must listen to this and work within a certain process or I cannot create. This may sound 'out there' to some but it is how I know to articulate it. Every time I sat at the jewelry bench, aside from perhaps two months time, of the entire year, I had a block so intense I could not generate and develop ideas. That space-that-gives-my-life-meaning was almost empty. I would pitter around here and there with different things, and always put love into what I made, but I could not find any particular thing to demand my focus. I have been there, when the creative spirit is so strong that it becomes you, you become it. In this state, there are so many ideas that not many things are more important than expressing them, through whatever your medium may be. It is difficult to even spend time preparing healthy food for yourself or getting proper sleep. Creating takes over. (I am practicing balance here.) I could not access this no matter what I tried, and I felt lifeless.

My goal was to produce a lot of simpler pieces so I could sell many things. I wanted to market to galleries, boutiques, et cetera. A lot of people do this beautifully, successfully, with a swagger, so I planned to get there as well. I figured this would be the way to direct my business. But as I say, the creativity suffered deeply.

A quiet pause

I took a month or so off from making things to try and identify what was trapping my creative flow. This is the pain of using your creativity as what sustains you in the material realm. It is a must to consistently produce, despite the state of your ability to do so, and if you do not then you may not have a roof over your head next month. There is a lot on the line and you had better figure out why the ideas have gone. I honored this demand to be quiet and reflect. 'Coincidentally' it timed with the winter solstice when I ceased to make. I spent a good part of the winter season hibernating, so to speak, on the creative front. It was almost equally painful to idle my hands but through reading, meditation, walking, and building luxurious fires against the snow, I became much better at it.

Herein I learned a great deal. I learned why this energy was blocked. I discovered the way I am supposed to work. I tapped into wells of inspiration that run so deep, they have been inspiring people for a very very long time.

Where love grows

I find my inspiration grows, my creative spirits are happy, and the output flows, when I do not try to produce large quantities of things at a quick pace. That business model will not work for me. And that is okay! It is okay to spend many hours on one piece of jewelry: from the exploration process of giving shape to ideas from the ether, to the moment of decision 'This is what I will make!', to the physical creation, to the piece's completion packaged as a gift, every step with intention. This is what enables me to have more ideas than my hands can physically keep up with. This is the state I desire to maintain, as well as the stamina to spend many hours at the bench each day... back to balance and eating / sleeping / moving / loving well.

Custom orders fit into this How, you ask. Being told exactly how to make something is also a gigantic creativity killer, for my way of working. I have done it and know my aversion to it. I don't intend for this to sound grandiose, rather it goes back to as I said above: if I don't feed the creativity properly, then it goes away, as does a roof over my head.

A gift I now bestow upon my creative spirit is listening to it. As should we all!

At your service

After a period of 2-4 weeks when I have completed a collection, there is a period of time where I feel very open to creating an interested person's ideas of their own talisman. The creative spirits need a rest I suppose, because they quiet down and I have an exciting free energy to follow ideas down your path. In keeping the request simple, for example: 'I would like a wolf with a piece of moonstone', everything flows. That I can do. That I would love to do. I do not want to be told how to draw the ears or create the symbol.

I also do not mind recreating a style that is already featured in my shoppe, where we can select a stone that is uniquely yours, or you can provide your own. I know many wonderful stone sellers online or if you are local, nearby, where you can go and pick out your stone. You can also leave it to me as that is my love and my specialty.

That is an overview of how custom orders will work. If you have questions about whether an idea would work, we can talk about that too. I hope this doesn't sound impossible to work with, I don't intend to sound that way. I do know if this all sounds good to you, then we will work together splendidly. You will become keeper of a talisman you will cherish and it will last long enough to be passed down for hundreds of years.

I welcome your inquiries.

~Christi