I was part of a group of Irish warriors exploring the northeastern woodlands of Turtle Island in a time before time was even recorded. There were 7 of us in the thick eastern forest walking cautiously, quietly, through the thicket on a foggy dawn when we stopped suddenly and all together with a knowing that there was something up ahead. Sure enough from out of the foggy horizon began to appear another group of warriors, an Oneida hunting party, 7 in number who just became aware of us. I remember at this very moment becoming aware of a rushing river to my left, the west, at the sight of these magnificent warriors, and being frozen with awe like the rest of my group.
There was a natural leader of each small group, a quiet understanding among each group, that would speak to each other. I was that one among the Irish and went out to meet my counterpart. Although we spoke different languages we were able to understand what each other was saying perfectly and were developing a working agreement when tragedy ensued. Know one knows how or why, and it doesn't matter anymore anyway, but arrows started to fly from both sides (the Irish warriors, followers of Finn Mccool, who though mostly forgotten these days, lived much like the natives of Turtle Island did) and when order was finally restored 7 warriors, 4 Irish and 3 Oneida, lay dead.
The survivors made a peace together, one that would be eternal and know no boundaries, that each were family with the other. I began to lift my head from the bed I was sleeping on when I saw the fallen warriors with oak trees on firs growing out of their chests and a voice, not mine, and not from anyone in the dream that said, "you may come back to this place anytime that you wish, you are Oneida". Over and over that voice said those words as I looked around the room trying to figure out what was going on. I had lost any foundation of what I thought was real...
I could not tell for those few moments the difference between what was a dream (or a vision?) or what was real. Even as I write this I will argue there is ambiguity in the line between the dream and the real. Most will argue clearly that I had gone to bed, had a dream, and woke up in the middle of the night from said dream a bit confused. I will tell you that that dream still lives with me in a very, very real way and that I do go back to that place of the 7 eternally burning trees and tend to those warriors. I think reality is a choice.
The Balsamic moon, especially this one, will facilitate a thinning of the line of reality. Pay close attention to what happens in your night dreams, day-dreams, and imagination. In fact when awake let your mind wander into those fantasy realms without judgement or constriction. There is something important in those realms for all of us for the next few days so write down what you see there, draw it or tell stories about it, share it with others and spread the fantastical about. In those realms of "alternate" reality, with your mind running free, you may just find an inspiration, an intention, that you can carry over to this side and implement at the New Moon, where anything is possible.
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