howling at the moon…8-11-20

This morning I woke in residual panic, breathlessness that remains when a call,  desperate to place, at last goes through.  My eyes wince softly in the spare morning light.  Long seconds pass before I realize I’ve been dreaming.  Funny how even strange dreams seem so banal at first glance.  Not this one.  I rose to capture the disappearing  wisps.
 
I wrap a complicated garment around my torso, struggling my right arm into a tight sleeve that ends in a silver-haired wolf head covering my small hand.  I wind the stole around me three times and slip my left arm into the narrow sleeve that ends in a long silver tail.  The whole crazy get up barely fits, yet it’s great oozy comfort to be swaddled like this.  I nest into the couch, relish a sense of being expertly held far away from the demands of the world.
 
Not for long.  Soon I’m surrounded by a bevy of admiring older women who discover there is more underneath: a finely woven delicate shirt, fancy embroidered belt pack, precious stones crafted into fabric, long leather boots.  The beautiful women are swarming, examining, commenting on every unique detail. 
 
With a start I remember a 6:30 special dinner date.  It is 7:15.  I struggle breathlessly to divest myself of these trappings, special as they are.  Sweating as I stuff the stones into my eyeglass holder and they spill all over.  It’s nigh impossible to yank my arms out of the sleeves.  I need to call my dinner companion.  My phone is full of precious stone data and will not work.  A young woman comes to the rescue, fixing my phone and loaning me hers. I am flooded with relief as I connect. I awaken.
 
Still in the hold of the dream, I climb the stairs to my studio and reach for the animal medicine book, opened many a time since received as gift in 1990.  I read about wolf medicine: two pages devoted to what I already know. Forerunner of new ideas returning to the clan to teach and share medicine.  Takes one mate for life and also has strong individualistic urge.  Moon is Wolf’s power ally—holder of secret knowledge/wisdom.  Howling at the moon is Wolf’s desire to connect with new ideas below the surface of consciousness.  Wolf helps others understand their unique path in life.  Wolf seeks out lonely places to find the teacher within, to find truth, looks for teachings no matter where she is.
 
Surely an apt description, a sign from my trusty subconscious to stay with what is arising, no questions asked when I howl at the moon and am gifted with new sensation, novel ways of knowing, heart-ful prescriptions.  At this point I’m not really drawn to look much beyond the boundaries of my own fur.  And I keep being called out into the lonely places.  Places where teachings show up in the depth of a meadow, in the mist of ocean spray, beneath slippery river rocks.  Places where wolf sniffs out wisdom.  Surely these sacred spaces shout more loudly than textbooks and wise teachers and philosophical readings.
 
Maybe you too are in wolf medicine time.  Perhaps current circumstances stimulate you to consider new notions, hidden wisdom, unique pathways, lessons from lonely places.  Curiosity along these lines is what often draws me to the mat, to the dance floor and to the treatment table.  I am learning right along with you how these places serve in different but still useful ways on-line.  From Medicine cards by Sams & Carson:
 
“To live is to grow, and growing comes through accepting all life forms as your teachers. 
Become Wolf, and take up the sense of adventure. 
You may stop howling and learn to become the moon.”
 
Let’s howl together in the field somewhere this week.  Love, Bella