Healing Earth Tarot:
9 of Wands:
That sounds about right – for today – considering that in the RWS system often this card would
show a person carrying 9 wands up a steep hill……
My card however is different and yet – fitting: Raven and 9 burning wands.
We have wonderful cold and sunny weather and so we are off into the bush, getting wands out. Loooooong wands!!
Biiiiiig wands, heavy too, publicly they are called logs – for the fire on the card in front of me.
Peter will cut them, with the chain saw and it is my job to load them onto the toboggan (hand drawn sled) and pull them out of the bush -without falling over my snowshoes. Each of them will weigh at least as much as me and I will often have 2 of them on my toboggan…..
Wandering wands wandering into our hearth fire- ultimately – next winter…..
Raven in the center of the card.
Caaaaawing at us and all the noise we make, but also swooping down to get a closer look. I caw up, he caws down; we get each other.
Kakagee, Cree Guardian of West
Bran, Gaelic guide of the Morrigan
Tupulo Gaukuuk, who flies high along the West Coast of Canada
Kutkinako, who gluckses wisdom to shaman’s ears in Yakutia
Ee’ren Karakoruk= the “Black Caller” in my language – making a rukus = loud noises, while teaching us how to fish and how to make fire…..
The rukus today however is about Sex.
Raven Sex, that is….
…..going on just about now.
Tomorrow we expect high winds, blowing away our nice weather, bringing rain
(–onto my nice fast snowshoe trails, making them sloooow and sluggish, requiring heavy pulling…)
But before the rain comes, Raven and Lady Raven will dance on the wind, lock talons, tumble, gift each other small twigs caaaaw a rukus of love into the storm and then start their nest on on the windswept pines across Kawpakwakog river.
Tomorrow, I will sit next to my hearth fire and think about the stories of Raven.
RAVEN, the Spirit
How RAVENS keep save the city of London….
Of RAVEN stealing the first fire
of RAVEN opening the Clam Shell to let out the first Haida People, Of Raven stealing the sun from a nasty old chief and singing all his nice white feathers black
Of RAVEN, helping to find the Eight’s Star Sister, the one that moved from Siberia to North America and stayed there- according to the stories of my ancestors…….
Of E’eren Karakoruk, who’s black feathers we Khams wear and who dances in the Sun’s Fire with us….
And while pulling my sled
a poem in my mind I met:
Raven, fly higher
It’s you, I admire
Go up to the sun
Flash wing and you’r gone!