January 8, 2021

Another day, another mysterious journey in place. I started my meditation feeling gratitude for my soulmate whom I have started calling Griffin even though I have no idea what his real name is. I have ‘memories’ of Griffin as always being there from the very beginning of my first life on this earth. I think he was about four years older than I am and that, from the day of my birth, was never far from my side. He was like a brother, father, mother and eventually a lover even though I had a biological father and mother and older brother. For some reason, Griffin took charge of me despite not being a member of my immediate family. (There was a clan structure in place in my community so maybe this isn't so strange. The concept of the family unit is a capitalist invention of the past five hundred years or so.)

I felt appreciation for his love and care and protection and also ‘remembered' how he was (and is) more likeable than I am. There is something warm and magnetic about him that people instinctively love. I, on the other hand, seem to unsettle others and feel like I’ve always occupied the periphery. In my first life, I rode on the coattails of Griffin’s popularity and was thus grudgingly accepted. In this life, without Griffin’s physical presence, I have always been an outcast. Partly, this is by choice - I find people as unsetting as they do me - and partly it’s for another reason.

While I was meditating, Griffin ‘explained’ that we both possess unique and complementary skills. His skills are more worldly and practical than mine. He explained that there's something about me that sets me apart from others and it’s been there from the beginning. It is why he was drawn to me in the first place.

I sat with that for a while until I became aware of my experience changing. From a metaphorical viewpoint, it was like I was being led into a dark wood. I got the sense that Griffin was terrified of what lurked in the wood and wouldn’t follow me. For some reason, though, I was unphased and continued on.

I wandered deeper into the wood, eventually coming to a clearing. The clearing was a circle of ancient trees arranged much like a forest chapel. Inside this forest chapel was a circle of ferocious wolves. In the center of the circle was...what? A spirit? No, it was greater than that. A god? Perhaps. Whatever it was, green and black were its primary colors. It does not lend itself well to anthropomorphizing.

The green represents life but its not a cozy, warm life as humans think of it. It is the life of blood and sap, primal and carnal and unadorned by human emotion. The black is death, of course, at its more basic. While love might be implicitly present in this god, it’s not primary by any means. It is not personal and it does not require the belief or even knowledge of humans to be. It’s the cycle of life and death that is constantly in motion around us in all forms. It is also rooted in the Earth so I suppose you could call it Gaia but its not at all soft and warm and welcoming.

Given all of this, I don’t know why I love this ‘god’ so much but I do. As long as I can remember, I’ve been attracted to its inhuman beauty. Sure, it’s severe and unforgiving but also wildly beautiful. I don’t require its love or comfort or any promises of safety. I just love it for what it is.

This morning during my meditation the god allowed me to approach. It was both an acknowledgement and reunion of sorts. I reaffirmed my allegiance to and love for it, bowing my head in supplication. Of course, the one caveat to this allegiance is that Being/True Nature/Truth reigns supreme over any other allegiance but this is no conflict because this god is inseparable from True Nature.

The following never happened like this; this is just a metaphorical story. In this story, I am a toddler and wander away from my clan while the six or seven year-old Griffin is distracted elsewhere. When he realizes I have gone, he is overcome with worry and runs into the woods, searching for me. It takes him a while to find me and when he does, he stops cold.

There is a ring of fearsome wolves, baring their fangs at him and preventing him from approaching me. He draws back in alarm, his worry spiking when he sees what is holding me. It is the god of life and death, winter/summer/spring and fall, birth and decay, the endless cycle of life. The god is cradling me against its chest which is both skeletal and fleshed and green and brown. Its face is fierce, harsh, uncaring, indescribable. As Griffin watches, heart pounding in his chest, the god lifts my little body into the air and ‘smiles’. “I will take this one,” it announces. “This one is mine.”

The god then turns to Griffin and fixes him with its otherworldly stare. “Don’t worry. He is safe. I will not harm him.” It then lowers me to my feet, the wolves part and Griffin rushes in to take me back.

This figment that never happened, nonetheless did, and it is part of my and Griffin’s story, part of the explanation for why we’re bonded and still together even after death. It’s part of the reason why I’ve always been an outcast, looking in from the outside where it's cold and uncaring and yet bursting with life. It’s part of the reason I am here now in this place and at this time when humans have fallen so far and the numinous is both more immanent than ever and incredibly out of reach. 

The spirit tales are true. The spirit world is real.