Oct 23 2024: Reclaiming My Soul
calling... all the way back to the first one
Editor’s Note… I prematurely published this post yesterday (10/22). This morning I have made some edits so the information is more fluid, and added working material for you, while deleting some unnecessary backstory details and adding others.
I hope it is a clearer path than what was published yesterday, although this revised edition will not remove the obstacles of further readings and experimentation in your own work. Enjoy!
Hello!
As our weather moves deeper into autumn's crisp air and velvet red maple leaves, I share a story of me.
It is powerful, revealing, filled with an old magic… my real life version of Arianrrhod's Crystal Palace.
Enjoy! ❤️
The Call to Live Deeply
Sweetest Grass Roots Devotionals is about making a promise to devote time and give sacred space to our healing, our internal processes. I share my practice with you in hopes it inspires you to create your own. To show the way with words and images steeped within my subconscious tea brought to life on canvas, in songs, stories and spirit journeys. How to live more deeply within your awareness and connection of the microcosmic world, and in turn our macrocosmic universe.
I wish I could promise you that every letter I write will contain perfectly organized subjects with perfect grammar and punctuation that obviously connect the dots for you. This is a promise that I simply cannot make.
What I can hope for… is to bring you along on my adventure into spirit, to show you how simple it can be, and to share in the beauty of my liminal spaces while you learn how to find your own… to make available sign posts, trail markers, bread crumbs and pin cushions.
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Because I will not pretend to know your journey more than I know my own, I write within my experience as woman. Please change as needed for your experience on this journey… for such teachings apply to us all.
Grab a cup of tea, plate of scones and sit by the window listening to bird song while you read… for we are going on an adventure!
Love, Light & Shadows…
Isabella, Pups & Family
My Weaving
In a moment of desperation to reclaim my sense of self, an attempt to reverse the damage done, to bring myself back to life…
I called back every version of me by every name I've ever had… all the way back to the first one…
But this was just the beginning. There was more work to be done. I needed to create a sacred space, a container for my healing, a place for all my work to culminate.
While my healing intent was in place, I could not see much more of the path than that at the time. I was in a state filled with confusion, pain and grief.
I relied heavily on my past work with creating astral sacred space. It wasn’t until almost the end of the process when I realized that I had allowed the emergence of (given space for) my version of the Crystal Palace from the old stories.
… and it worked, the lights came on one by one.
The story and imagery of The Beach House has been born from this culmination of my lived experiences, studies and devotional practices. It is a living example of what can be accomplished. ❤️
See Footnotes for the newly condensed backstory. Here are pictures of Figgy (white; 9.5 yo) and Shadow (black; 13 months old) to help with imagery in the story below.
The Beach House
On one of the boundary edges of Three Sisters’ Grove there is a rock faced cliff. It slopes down into a bay with expansive beaches and white sand.
Tall pieces of broken mountains are almost arranged standing upright in the bay where water begins to meet sand. You can walk out to them when the tide is low and commune with small sea creatures caught in the pools there. The stones are made of basalt worn smooth by the sea's ebbs and flows.
The bay here is protected from the roughest storms. A port for sea creatures and the sisters alike.
Standing out by the stones at low tide, I look up to the cliff face and see it. A small house just a ways up from the beach. It looks like it was built of driftwood and is hard to separate from the land surrounding it, unless you know where to look. It is built up into the cliff face, so when you're inside there are small rises of steps here and there to access the different rooms that seem to spring up and alter themselves as needed, as if by magic.
For those who know how to see, the beach house is given away by its sandy and pebbled path down to the beach where it abruptly ends at the fire pit and ring of sand worn chairs and loungers made from the same drift wood washed up by the sea.
It is here I brought them. Little by little, as it took years to build, to get all the details just right.
I remember when we first found this spot. How we loved to stare up at the inky darkness of the night sky. Stars dotting here and there just beyond our firelight. How we slept on the beach listening to whale songs back when we were impervious to bugs and such. There must have been bugs, right? I can't seem to remember them at all now.
Eventually, we built chairs from the washed up driftwood we had stacked up to sit on around the fire. We stayed just like this for years upon years before the idea of a house even took shape.
Laying out on the sun warmed sand, swimming in the bay when the tide flowed in, and playing in the rocky pools teeming with life when the tide ebbed out. All complete, of course, with picnic lunches.
It is where we came to celebrate life, to heal from sickness, and scream out agonizing grief. For so long, it teemed with life and then became all but forgotten in the rush of modern schedules.
To remember it, rebuild it, has taken an age but slowly it is coming back into focus. Slowly the house is cleaned, re-imagined, rooms and contents shifting then settling into place. When it became clear to me again - solid, formed. That is when I brought them here - for safety, for comfort, for healing.
This little beach house is our own Crystal Palace from the bygone stories of ages passed. Our pin of iron to secure the corner fast, fashioned from the mountain’s ore, and our inner sight to show us the door.
At first, I brought myself and that was a journey because I had to re-learn, remember how to see. It took years for anything but the stone fire circle and drift wood chairs to emerge with only the sound of the sea somewhere behind and to the left of me.
There was no sun yet, only perpetual darkness lit up by an occasional moon. Its phase never a reliable measurement of time as it emerged from the void and disappeared again.
Next to appear was the feeling of wet sand beneath me. Every indication of the existence of a sea without actually seeing one. The feeling of soft foamy water lapping at my feet.
… and here I stayed for years until just recently…
A shift came. Oh, I'm sure its progress was born slowly over time but like the sunrise at the point of no return on the horizon, all of a sudden the world came into view seemingly all at once.
Night was suddenly morning’s twighlight. The bay with its standing stones could be seen clearly in the lavender-thistle light.
The moon emerged and stayed this time marking the days, weeks and months across the sky. In all its phases. In all its glory.
The stars shone brighter. The firelight on the beach like a beacon after my long journey.
Clarity, but still it seemed like I was walking in place for weeks from the farthest end of the beach before I could reach the firelight again. Before I could sit my weary bones down onto driftwood chairs, the bones of the sea, and cover myself with a blanket to sleep without disturbance.
Figgy was always with me, running in and out of the water around my feet, smiling up at me without a care in the world.
Eventually, Shadow came to join us. We explored the rock pools, swam in the ocean, played out on the beach just soaking it all up.
And then came the glimmers of our little beach house. Just barely taking shape at first, barely a house at all.
The pathway illuminated one full moon - sand up into the cliff - and like good little adventure seekers - we followed.
It took weeks to find the stairs. Blurry stone-colored shapes that vaguely resembled something we could safely step on. Shadow running up ahead and disappearing into the greyness, the fog, gave Figgy and I our courage to follow. A little ways at least before we retreated back to the safety of our fire on the beach.
On and on this dance went, and in the end I was lonely for human company.
That is when I brought them one by one and then all at once.
The Pups and I were sitting around the firelight one twighlight evening, gazing out at the bay’s standing stones and the sea beyond, watching the waves and listening for songs, when I remembered my Maiden self and where I had left her.
Wet, cold, angry, rageful within and how I had left her there in the darkness of a cave where I had originally found her in a spirit journey that felt so long ago now. How was she ever supposed to heal from all the atrocities, if she remained alone in a cave? In the dark? In pain?
So I journeyed to her, which seemed to take no time at all, took her by the hand and brought her here to the beach house. We landed a ways down the beach again in sea water from the bay. The Pups had stayed to play around the firelight waiting for our return.
My Maiden's clothes had changed from a medieval lady's costume to a beachy dress woven from the finest hemp rope and sprinkled with sea shells, care-freely dropped down over her right shoulder.
We held hands wadding through the water until we hit the beach and fire pit where, promptly of course, she set about making smores for everyone. Night descended and we all slept curled up in one very large driftwood chair.
The beach house feeling more solid than it ever has.
We spent nights standing in the sea, facing out beyond the bay, hands clasped listening for whale songs. The moon bearing witness.
One night, we could both see the beach house, my Maiden and I. We could see the door. Pups running up ahead, our very own yin and yang, we strolled up the moonlit path until we reached the door.
It opened slowly. The insides were dark and we could only see into a couple of rooms. We entered. Our vision still hard to focus, but the kitchen, a bedroom and an art studio could just barely be made out. We drifted up small sets of stairs exploring to see what we could see, but it was just too dark.
We ended up going back out the front door to find a deck waiting for us complete with rocking chairs. So here we sat with pups curled up in each of our laps, while a fine misty rain fell down upon the cove. Kept warm and dry under the eaves of the porch, rocking sleeping puppies, our hands clasped.
Eventually, we found our way back down to the beach and the house lingered. Time passed. We continued to explore what we could of the beach house but it was still so blurry, so grey and just couldn’t seem to settle.
This is when we remembered - our inner child. I had done extensive work with her years ago, but where is she now? Did she forget about me, as I had forgotten about her?
She must have been waiting for our call because as soon as we turned our attention to her she appeared - a baby in my Maiden's arms. We quickly recognized living on a beach with a baby was going to be too much - of everything.
So I looked inside for a memory. A long forgotten photograph of me on the beach came into view. Age 7 or 8, sitting on a beach blanket, wearing my pink bikini with ruffles that I loved, looking up at my mother behind the camera with the biggest, happiest smile I ever had, complete with oversized dark sunglasses sitting across the bridge of my freckled nose. My name was Rachel then.
As I focused on that memory of me, my inner child took that form and happily started eating smores made by our inner Maiden, and playing with the puppies around the fire. Licking dripping gooey melted marshmallows and chocolate from her fingertips, while digging her toes into the sand.
Then it happened all at once, and my daughter Emma at the same age appeared. Emma and Rachel ate smores, built sand castles and chased each other through the waves.
The evening found the six of us (pups included) in an oversized driftwood chair that had taken on the shape of a lounger.
Us girls curled up under the blanket, hands clasped, puppies asleep on top of our feet.
For the first time in a long time (or ever for that matter) we felt safe, loved, content.
We were cozy and happy warmed by the fire on the beach… and this is when… the beach house, our beach house, our ‘Crystal Palace’, fully settled.
The lights turned on and beckoned us inside. Here is where our Maiden became a Mother fully formed. She tucked us all into our beds. House’s details complete, colors filled in.
A warm fire in the central room that our Maiden turned Mother watched over, I was curled up under the patch work quilts in my bed, as Rachel and Emma slept entwined in a rope hammock in the next room over. No walls, no separations, and yet, each perfectly contained near the other. Hands clasped.
Maybe only a day or two passed when the sun rose fully in the sky and my sons appeared, Ethan and Sully. Blonde hair and blue eyes reminding me of the stories of Lugh shining so brightly, incarnated as their 7-8 year old selves.
All of my children playing on the beach with my inner child, combing through seaweed covered rock beds with pails and shovels, chasing each other through the waves and squealing with delight.
I sit in contentment on my driftwood chair around the fire with puppies running here and there. We are home.
Your Weaving
As you read this work, what percolated up from your subconscious? Emotions? Thoughts? Images? Does my work inspire you to create one of your own?
Creating Your Astral Safe Space: Have you done similar work to mine in the past you can draw upon? Do you want to follow my thread and read the books I have resourced to create your own thread? Your own Crystal Palace story?
Choose a location, anywhere in the world. If it is a place you have already visited, step into that memory to build upon for extra power. If it's somewhere you've never been but always wanted to go, use a picture.
Utilize my story of The Beach House as a guide on how to build your own imagery for your own Crystal Palace. Research more about Arianrrhod and her Crystal Palace/ Castle in mythology.
Read the resource books listed for additional inner work of finding your Maiden and Mother.
There is so much work already published on finding your inner child that I’m not going to go into depth on the subject. Choose what resonates with you the most.
I am still learning about finding my inner Crone and will include more book resources on that in the future.
As we are working with internal identity and sense of self, we are still within the Sphere of the Solar Plexus Chakra. Any work here will be of benefit to this part of the process.
Journal Prompt for Secret Messages: Choose an idea, word line, or entire phrasing from what I’ve written here and write down everything that comes up for you in a free-flow without censorship. Go back through and circle key words and phrases from your own writing. Is there a secret message hidden within your subconscious? Within your Soul?
Take it one step further, and continue to journal about how that secret message makes you feel. Do you agree with it? Disagree? Why? Do you have a friend who will welcome bouncing the ideas around so you may see a deeper well within your Self?
Accessing Spirit through Creation… Words, Artwork, Jewelry, DIY Rosary or Prayer Beads. Create a more physical practice through Yoga, Qi Gong, Tai Chi, Nature Walks and more! Pick one or two for your practice today and see what happens! Don’t forget to journal about it so your future self will have a road map on challenging days.
Today’s Resources
Line “…to make available sign posts, trail markers, bread crumbs and pin cushions.” : Refers to all the different sign posts and trail markers that you might find in fairy tales and wisdom stories. Bread crumbs famously found in Hansel and Gretel, and following the pin cushion comes from my family’s deep dark forest roots across the ocean.
Poetry/Quotes: Unless otherwise stated, I wrote it :) IEM 2024
My Journal Entries: Dated October 2024.
My Painting: This is from my Dreaming Tree Series. It was created during my Soul Reclamation journey before my beach house appeared. I was asleep in my hammock dreaming of my safe, sacred space, my health and my future. Copyright 2023.
Books:
Becoming the Enchanter by Lyn Webster Wilde
Maiden to Mother by Sarah Durham Wilson
Photographs:
Figgy (IEM Copyright 2024).
Shadow (Lydia Copyright 2024; my step-daughter).
Reference of Three Sisters’ Grove: This is a book I am still writing as part of my Soul Reclamation Journey and re-building identity of self after brain injury. I will be incorporating this story into it as well.
Foot Notes
It was circa 2004, in the wake of my divorce and becoming a single mother of 3 babies, that I turned to the old stories of Arianrrhod's Crystal Palace via a book gifted to me by my new best friend (Suz): Becoming the Enchanter by Lyn Webster Wilde.
I followed along with the book's instructions to construct my first astral Crystal Palace with the help of friendly co-conspirators to act as players in the ultimate game of riding the dragon. It was a magical time.
Since then… and so many times since then… I've worked with therapists in creating a “safe space” to travel to when the grief hits from years of trauma, and to hold me as my container when healing from physical pain, injury and illness.
More recently, starting circa 2016, I began this journey again. From this process, which felt mostly like an insane way to live with injury on top of injury followed by the pandemic and illness on top of illness…. I began yet another journey to re-build sacred, safe space, within which to heal, and with the help from another friend and my current therapist, to find my lost Maiden as I enter my years of the Crone.
This journey’s imagery also included my children because we had so much robbed from us in childhood, and our abilities to bond with one another at various life stages.
I'm coming to learn that I had children so I would finally have friends, which I could never seem to maintain well in my own childhood.
It is a beautiful concept that we can now all play together on the beach at the same age of 7-8yo into perpetuity eating smores around the fire with puppies at our feet, regardless of technical real world age gaps.
What We’ve been up to
Im starting a new painting themed for October and to honor my kinship with Spirit during this healing process. Bringing my old Spirit Owl painting back to life within this new one.
We have a bustling household this fall into Thanksgiving, and are focusing on keeping our heads and hearts on straight into winter.
Love, Light & Shadows,
Isabella, Pups & Family
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