My recent stay in Edmonton teaching shamanic workshops on speaking with stones has given me a more beautiful understanding of the meaning of ice breaking up. I was staying on the shores of Pigeon Lake as the first leads of water began opening along the edges of the frozen expanse. What does it mean in my spiritual practice when something starts to thaw?
This means to me that new ways of being with these teachings from the spirit world are opening. I discovered that sharing my ability to speak with stones also taught me about new possibilities in my ways of helping others. Even though there is much still to learn and experience--just as there is a great distance of ice still to thaw--I discovered that hiding my relationship with stones was also hiding a gift I feel I am meant to share.
Sometimes the structures and protections I build around what I do become a way of stranding what I know and how I can be of service. I believe shamanic art and work in all forms is a bridge between this world and the world of the sacred--which of course are the same world from another view. But to be effective the bridge must connect this shore of daily life with that great flowing lake of mystery.
All the life surrounding Pigeon lake is also breaking out. Catkins drift the surfaces with yellow wonder while pussywillows shimmer in the first soft breath of a northern Canadian spring. I am reminded and emboldened by the novel I have been recently reading, The Law of Dreams by Peter Behrens. Apparently for dreams, for shamanic work, and for ice in the spring, the law is, "keep moving."
