The Mantis and the Crab

Yesterday I read the sexiest article I’ve read in a very long time. I think it will change the course of my winter experience this year. The article, written by Jeanette Winterson, talks about her experience of the dark and how resistance to winters heartbeat can upset the body’s natural rhythms. I’m not going to go into it here because it’s such a fantastically gorgeous piece of writing that to paraphrase it will serve only to numb its unctuous intimacy.

It was early (it’s always early) when I arrived back in my body, checking to make sure I was in the right room; checking to make sure I was in the right body. I noticed that my very first thought was to put the light on and check the time. From there I’d probably have done my next rote activity which is to go get a bowl of coffee and boot up my laptop, checking emails and maybe writing a page or two.

Remembering that fantastic article, I did none of these things today. Today will be different. Today I would just lie there, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark, wilfully forgetting my habitual processes. I just lay there in the dark, absorbing it, smelling it, tasting it, moving closer to it. Darkness and intimacy. It struck me then that, in this safely cocooned way, both are in short supply on this planet right now. We avoid darkness as we avoid intimacy. I wasn't going to do this today; today is different.

After a while I was ready for some light but not the harsh, monotonous constant of electricity, no, instead I sought candlelight; soft yet dynamic, candlelight plays like a child. This required action so up I got to hunt down some candles, armed only with a single tea light! After nearly burning the bathroom down I learned my first lesson: be more awake before playing with fire in a house full of smoke alarms; lesson learned.

Some candles later, I sat up in bed, just smiling at how calm I felt. My breathing was different; deeper somehow. I was finding my way into the rhythms of nature and, as a novice, I was willing and open. Noticing how slowly my thoughts were coming and going in this ambient light, my eyes went up to the ceiling where I observed the shadow dancers playing against the light. The deeper I looked the clearer the images became, insects and a crustacean.

I began to see butterflies, a crab, a swallow and a something I couldn't quite make out. Relaxing my eyes further, an emergent shape came out of shadow. It looked like a mantis. I stared on, agenda suspended.

Words came

I was entering an inner dialogue, softly prompting me to consider who I could be in the unfolding scene. On the left was a crab, claw outstretched and grasping the tongue of the mantis. On the crabs back were the wings of a butterfly and at its base, the tail of a swallow; a spectacular looking chimera. The crab stood firm, heels driven into ground, singular commitment to its purpose. The mantis stood in sharp contrast to the hazy light. As the candlelight flickered, the chimera and the mantis entered a seeming death lock tug of war as they rocked back and forth, neither winning; neither losing.

“I am both”, came my reply.

Sometimes I am the mantis, alone and steadfast; words issuing forth to those who’d prefer me to hold my tongue or, ready to take the head off my foe. My tongue is held fast in the claw of ignorance and ignorance resists its own awakening, preferring to remain asleep, wrapped in the warm illusion of a mono-dimensional life.

Sometimes I am chimera, working in different dimensions and feeling supported by all the magic we can’t see with the naked eye. I have wings to elevate and a swallow’s tail to steer my ship but amidst this magic, my claws remain sharp. Do they always know when to let go; probably not in my learning so far. The crab might need to let others take the strain and kick back a bit; yes, got that. Or, the crab carries others on its back whilst also fighting its own battles; yes, got that too!

All is learning - All is metaphor.

Instantly, I wanted to write but something in me said ‘no’. This didn’t feel comfortable and, while it would make a fascinating sharing, it’s too personal. I’m sharing intimate secrets with who knows who and, god forbid, I’m also sharing a corner of my bedroom......what?! Noooooo was the confirming answer but my desire to write clung like a Rose desperate to bloom. I was in ego consciousness; ego drives fear and fear is mortally wounding to innate creativity. I held fast to my own resistance.

During all this magic, I had been sat with my Messenger cards, intimate dialogue passing between us in the dark and quiet space. I drew three cards, the latter getting itself stuck-fast; oblique and exposed in the middle of the deck like some previously ‘jammy’ finger had pre-ordained its mission by applying a little glue. Card was craving to be a part of this journey. I drew it and held the three cards though it wasn’t time to look at them yet; the sun was still sleeping and only light was guiding me.

I noticed the faint essence of first press jasmine oil carried on the breeze of open windows. I inhaled deeply, sensuously enjoying all it had to offer. Jasmine works with me at heart centre, clearing the way for truth and strengthening purpose and jasmine also wanted to be a part of this journey.

All is learning – All is metaphor.

As the sun rose through a blanket of heavy cloud I began to see shards of half-light through the now billowing curtains. I couldn’t resist. Opening the curtains to welcome the day was gentle; it was raining and it smelled gorgeous, like mushrooms, peat and electricity. I stared at the streetlights hitting the wet pavement and inhaled deeply, fully present in the here and now.

Time for the coffee bowl!

Returning to my still warm bed, coffee in hand and just enough light to study my cards, I turned them over, slowly, one by one. These cards are staggeringly accurate and today would be no exception.

And I am but a speck of dust beholden to a higher wisdom and deeply in service of my highest calling. So I write the story and feel each tugging nuance as I share more and more of myself, intimately and sincerely, with an unknown audience. Spirit reminds me this is safe and replays a conversation I had with a buddy of mine in the states who recently (and pointedly) enquired when I would write fiction; deeply spiritual fiction. I’m smiling - let's see.

But the magic isn’t over yet and it comes in the form of number as teacher.

Creating the images for this post, I hit the ‘save as’ button in powerpoint to create a ‘png’ file, noticing that the card picture will become image number 77 in my graphics folder. Being a student of numerology I curiously check in with this and see that it matches my personal numbers, echoing my ability to lead and create through the higher mind; to break down the concrete mind through my extremes of exploration. The cards are echoing my Song.

The mantis image becomes number 78. Balancing yin and yang through the creative mind and seeking perfection in matter. The mantis metaphor is about working with the tension between advance and retreat (when to speak and when to hold my tongue). 

Then, as I add up the numbers on the cards, I get 100. The ‘0’ is potential; a lens to amplify the numbers around it. The ‘1’ is creation; the beginning of all cycles. So no excuses for me then!

To say I didn’t want to write this essay, I’ve learned so much from sitting with it and creating with it. I’m inspired by the dark. I’m inspired by the intimacy of life.

Welcome Winter - hello darkness my old friend.

PS – just checked into FB to see this from a numerology master mate of mine, Sonia Ducie - magic is endless.

7.11.2015-26/8. Nature dissolving obstacles in the dark; Enlightenment. Intuitive flashes. Productivity. Rebirth. Experimentation.

With love to Jeanette Winterson for lighting a changeling spark; Mike from Greater St. Louis for planting a seed that's been silently growing and to Sonia for confirming that today was the right day to bring spark and seed together. x