Grandmother teachings…….

There we were once more sitting in ceremony with our dear teacher and his teacher and all the teachings that sat quietly awaiting those moments to be shared.

Some now say this should not be done! Those I imagine who fear the loss of control and the wisdom that can then be imparted to the world; at whose cost? Yet they will promote the purging on street corners from the alcoholic consumption of our society for all to see. It is a strange world is it not, where one mans medicine can be so frowned upon and then where there is capital gain it is so agreed upon. What would I choose, for my self, for my children and my society?

I know I would choose that safe environment that is held in deep ceremony with the master at the fore, singing his songs of love for the beautiful mother plant he carries.


The legal courts wish to have their say, they are afraid, there can be no other reason I am sure.
 Just as the witches were burnt at the stake, so will that same energy permeate our societies. I know my own truth, as I have always known and fought for. My right to heal, my right to dig deeper, my right to choose my own medicine.

And as I write now in this moment, the candle is lit and the sage is burning, my teachers words speak through the songs emanating from my speakers, I know great risks are being taken in order that the Grandmother can weave her vine through the hearts and souls of many.

I am awake. I am feeling the fear of the unconscious and the conscious all at once, blending already with visions even before we have begun, even before I drink. That great white snake appears to me wrapping herself around me, she swallows me whole, I am calling for help, reaching out my arms, my fingers,  but I know I must surrender into her belly.

I am regurgitated from the deep. Tumbling outwards, thrown across the floor, white and covered in mucus, I am unsure who or what I am!

I take myself to sit at the table, not the one for dining but for receiving the Grandmother, for making my own blessing and stating my own intention. Amidst the medicine lies many items of interest. Amongst the pot of brown sludge I see the smoke from sage and the crystals that shimmer in the dark light. I am handed my vessel to drink from. Here she is and I smile, a deep smile that begins from within. I trust her and my teacher. Just as I remember all that they have given me previously, after my mother died, she brought me back to earth with the deepest sob, connecting once more to my own feminine, to the one I really am. Flying with me through ribboned skies to release and share my voice, discovering my own medicine songs and meeting spirit on so many levels.

I had searched for a Grandmother teacher, thinking she to be an older woman, some one I would meet. Yet here I found her, not in human form. But she could hold me so sweetly and teach me so much wisdom I knew I had found her in the heart of nature, in the hedgerows of mother earth.It was no accident, it was meant to be. All syncronicities pointed to this.

The sage is engaging with me to relax, to sense to listen. Questions begin to flow through me. Why am I here? My hands join the drum beats I need to dance to move but I sit awaiting. I know my medicine is to move and dance and right now I feel the micro dance inside myself and how it wishes to emerge, giving it time. I remind myself of the intention to learn. There is always something new to learn. My own medicine my own voice, my songs and my vibrations. The psychedelics are there to distract me from my mind and the thoughts that can get in the way and then I am told, go beyond that ‘watch your hands’ My hands are dancing.

I become the vine, the snake the dancer. I become the medicine that I am. The drum continually pulls me towards it, reminding me always of why I am here, every little distraction takes me further away from the truth so I must focus and concentrate my intentions.

My songs flow from my belly as does the purging back to the earth. ‘Thank you Grandmother’ I always remember to say. Songs come and go, I do not know or remember the words, for now it does not matter they will return at the right time.

The dance becomes too much to hold inwards any more and Eagle claws grip the edge of the cliff, or was it my mattress? Peering out across landscapes I see the vastness with its central fire and bodies sitting, watching the flickering flames and above the fire I can stretch my arms reaching to each side of the Maloca, as they take flight with each feather brushing past the air waves. The vibration inside me is stronger than I could imagine.

I make my gratitudes to the fire from the tobacco I hold, singing my song into it as I offer it up and the words follow. A blessing to the sun for the fire it gives. I am instructed to see. ‘See with shaman eyes, see into the dark………Grandmother I am seeing.’

Caroline Carey

About Caroline Carey

Caroline, born in 1960, grew up with a love for the wild, for nature, for animals and to dance. She wrote poetry and stories, created theater and explored the art of ritual of which she always held a fascination for. Not being of the academic type and being passionate about mystery, immagination and myth, she chose to spend her time alone with her many animals and the passion she had for ecstatic dance whether indoors or in nature. Her imagination was as wild as her life-style and by adapting the religious education insisted on by her family, she was able to recognise her own innate connection to Spirit and the spirit guides she became strongly connected to. Mothering her six, (now adult) children, Caroline has learnt the art of play, creativity, story telling and the deep surrender and unconditional love that motherhood bestows upon us.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s