I can feel the Gods rouse to their time on the year wheel's stage. His hooven feet start to scrape and echo; I feel it in my bones. It's a sort of thing that resonates like a gong only it comes from within. It won't be long before the magic chore whoring for the season begins and I volunteer for the annual kidnapping. Yeah, sure, I'll stir that for you. ( note to self. . . don't touch anything and don't taste anything!) If you close your eyes and listen to Panoramic from the Book of Eli score, you can get an idea of what that pull feels like.
I think I am in love with the way that sound feels. I reminds me of the pull of gravity. It's not the gravity that pulls you down here on this well we call Earth, but the pull of our personal sun star. That piece of ourselves that is both manifest and ethereal; I call that center and I do see it as a star. I think I see my center as a star because I grew up with my Father telling me that I was made of star stuff.
The sound that I crave to hear often comes as something that, at first blush sounds, empty and lonely. It is this sound that makes me seek out its source and I always come back to me and when I am at my most still I can hear that my whispers are not being echoed back at me, but whispers from something far more immense in measure and wisdom. Most of the time I don't remember the words. The words were never important. It was that peace that washes through me in that moment. Maybe the words and wisdom and imagery were indeed all in my head, but there is also, in fact, a physical response to what my brain is experiencing.
Many years ago, a friend posed this question: how would you feel if you were the last person to see the last of a dying star's light? I was sad at first and told him so. The question has pitter pattered behind me with it's mark still dancing in my mind. The emotional response has shifted over the years, like a snake that sheds it's skin to reveal a new understanding of a larger body. I have come to an understanding that the reason this sound feels lonely at first is because it is the sound of light traveling to a specific destination though a vast ocean. Light years. . . that's a long time to measure by earth human standard. Everything would echo in your soul. There's no where else for it to go. If I am made of star stuff and I am the custodian of the last of the light from a star, wouldn't I be moved by the sound of its travels?