Wolfsisters describe their images of our virtual den atop Star Mountain...
I see the den as rounded with a huge warm fire in the center. No
walls, open space, scent of pine and cedar, diamond stars twinkling
overhead, steam coming off our mugs, and rocking chairs, chaise
lounges - some leopard skinned, comfy couches, thick luscious rugs,
hammocks and swings hanging from the ancient trees and a huge kitchen
table with wooden chairs. And sisters everywhere...moving, talking,
laughing, sharing, holding a silver mirror lost in thought, drumming
and dancing to their own rhythm....
I see the sand road winding up the Mountain, from the campfire circle
at Starlight Springs, through thick trees, past big rocks, up and up,
to a set of huge wooden doors. set right into the mountain itself.
These doors open into our wonderous den deep inside Star Mountain.
It is a huge cave, renovated by industrious wolves, into a magical
place. We enter a foyer, to hang up scarves and take off boots. Ahead
of us is the Great Room, with its long table where wolves gather for
meals. A massive fireplace occupies one whole wall, and a fire is
always burning. Webs of the writing spiders stretch across the
corners of the high ceiling. There are rocking chairs near the fire,
soft chairs, pillows, and blankets and shawls to wrap up in for long
chats far into the night. A hallway leads deep into the mountain, and
there are rooms off the hall for each wolfie - their private spaces.
There is a small chapel, where a candle is perpetually lit, in memory
of our sisters who have crossed the Veil.
A doorway down the hall leads out to the dolphin pond, and to an
outdoor fire circle where we gather for our PMP rituals and other
special occasions.
Leo and the guardians move silently in the shadows, a reassuring
presence that we are safe and protected. A rustle in the underbrush,
moonlight glinting briefly off a shiny helmet, and we know the war
chickens are camped nearby, ready to spring into action should an ISP
attempt to withhold den mail from any wolfsister, or there is a
serious laundry issue...
There are a few shuttered building, abandoned by former sisters,
which await renovation.
And always, there is a feeling in the air of excitement, for the pack
is always moving through life, growing, changing, experimenting,
succeeding, failing, fighting, singing, laughing, loving...
Winding down the back of the Mountain is a trail that sisters follow
who decide to strike off on their own. Standing at the head of that
trail, looking at the footprints that lead down the Mountain, is not
a sad thing. Wild Women must be free to stay or go, as they wish.
Some will come home again, and the pack will be waiting...
I perceive the den to be quite cave like....and round. (womb like? )
The light filters through softly during the day....the way it does in a forest in the summertime.....and in the nights the fire, and scattered candles give a warm glow....
Very soft/smooth walls......various shades of tan, that shadows play over.....Aisling's ledge, over which we all hang our paws, and lie in the moonlight...*sigh* I could go on... :)
A wonderful, place!
I see this lovely huge circle cleared in the forest, not completely cleared but with some smaller trees in within the circle. There are wonderful large pillows arranged around a central fire, with smaller fires sprinkled around. There is a lovely spring with cold clear water flowing through it, and beautiful silks and satins in scarves and blankets hanging from the trees and draped on our pillows. I see clusters of beautiful wolves engaged in conversation, contemplation, choclate sharing, tail braiding, dancing, laughing, crying and emailing all around the the central fire. There is beautiful music in the background, like New Age Wolf, with the wonderful occassional howels. It is a magical, healthy, happy, spiritual den and I am overcome with love for all my wolf sisters so I sit down and cry for a moment, then I blow my snout and I do the happy dance, get chocolate and wrap myself in fine purple satin (with my lovely tail braided by Lucywolf (nuzzles) with prikcly pear flowers sticking out) and sit down with the first group I trot by and join them.
The 'Den' to me, sits
on the bench of a finger ridge that comes off of a big cragy, stone
Mountain, that sits due north, with a stream coming down it's NW flank and
then gently rounding to the East and then south into the trees. New
Sisters come up the road from the Springs from the NNE where the trail runs
just inside the north edge of the trees, which range from just east of north
all the way down to SSE. To the South, where the trees end is a steep drop
off. Right where the trees start thining out towards the south is where the
hammock sits(Hello Dear Mingan). That steep drop off ranges from south
around towards the west.
The 'space' itself I see as a fire circle....a fire pit which is always
going surrounded by logs that serve us as seats. In my mind, we all have
our 'usual spots'...but on occasion are found in others depending on
conversations and activities.
Around is luscious green grass and some small bushes here and there.
East, behind the Circle, is the forest, and I feel myself heading back in
there for different reasons often. I also feel other Sister's back there
doing whatever they need too. I feel we each probably have our own special
spot back in the trees, and that it's a very restorative nurturing place,
with the trees filtering the strong light and keeping the breeze gentle, the
small stream tinkling along with cool, clean water and lush grass underfoot.
The Hammock, to me, sits enough in this area to benefit from that, but
also enough on the edge to be a part of the Circle, and it is protected by
the Sisters on one side, the ledge on another.
I haven't been here long at all but I have an image of place. A forest,
a clearing by a river, a garden, an orchard, the fire, and the cave that
has a large open area and then innumerable small dens and warrens, rooms
where all can find the private space needed for inner work and down
time, where cave walls can be painted with symbols of ancient wisdoms
rediscovered.
I see exquisite creatures that morph at will from full boned women to
sleek ruffed wolves, and back again. There are gardeners and tree
pruners and quilters, and storytellers and moonwatchers and artists of
all kinds, a place where each woman wolf finds her calling and
contributes to the whole in her own way. Each is both teacher and
student, depending, so all are considered equal.
I hear music and laughter and distant rumblings of thunder, and the wind
playing through the pinetops, and above all, sisters raising their
voices to sing of life.
Settled just pass a stand of evergreens tall and majestic..with the clean
scent of pine....deep on the mountain side .....full of mystery is a den of
wildness........ever changing swirling in magic........fire illumianting the
dancing women........moons full and hanging on the horizon........echoing the howls
back across the spring fed meadow below.........the light within each gently
glows to light the way thru the forest darkness.......bringing us peace ,
serentiy and courage............in the early light of dawn as the crimson sun
rises..........we greet the new day with joyful cries of life........laughing deep
and loud we share our gratitude with all that listen to the song of
nature.........challenges loom on the horizon but we fear not each new path but meet
them with the confidence of the wolf........for behind us a a lair of unspoken
words full of someting intangible....greater than us ........full of wild
spirit we pad to the ledge........and howl from far deep from our
core.........echoing to all that will hear.........
For me the Mountain has only a few clearly defined spaces—the magical fire way up high, sending its warmth and light to all---and serves as a beacon to our sisters down below in the Springs---guiding and encouraging them. And the sandy trail that lead sisters up and down, sometimes the sandy trail is half hidden from sight with overgrown fears and worries, but it is always there, softly crunching underfoot and if a sister lets go of the need to physically see and touch, but trusts her instincts, it will lead her up here safely with the rest of us.
The rest of the Mountain is ever changing and growing in different ways, sometimes a space that was there before morphs into another space that encourages us to learn its secrets as well—it teaches us to not hide from fear, but face it squarely, with our wild woman’s courage and to trust our wildish instinctual selves as we learn to explore the hidden places of the Mountain.
Sometimes there is a gentle fog that wraps around the sleeping ones, bringing to them healing sleep and restful silence and tickles noses when it is time to wake and touches our fur with a soft sprinkle of twinkling dew. There are rocky outcroppings where we can go to get a clearer view and see with our minds eye the things that are often hidden. We can stand in the sunshine or moonlight and lift our faces to be kissed by their loving touches and race through the trees to touch noses with a sister in greeting. Or we can come down and play under the graceful boughs of the firs and cypress trees, with the tingly spiky scent of their needles under our paws. When we are soul weary we can dive into the sparkling waters of the dolphin pond and when we are chilled we can settle into the joyfully bubbling jacuzzi and giggle and laugh and snort our drinks through our noses.
Somewhere on the Mountain is a clearing—not a circle, not a square, always just a big as we need—just a space without borders where we gather to dance in celebration of moving through a difficult time, or rally around each other in sympathy and love to mourn the passing of a beloved sister, or to decorate our tree with our own ornaments, or sing out our encouragement to a sister facing life changing challenges... or to lay in the grass with our bellies full from picnics and just enjoy being in the company of each other.
And on one very special night of each month we gather under the peaceful, healing glow of Full Moon to send out our love and PMP to the universe—in thanksgiving for all that we have received.
This is how I see the Mountain
What is the flow of email like?
Swampy offers
a glimpse into the ebb and
flow of our high volume list.
PMP Tuesday
Tuesday is the day chosen years ago to light a candle at home, and let it burn as long as you wish, to send PMP (Packmate
Power) to our sisters. The PMP spirit candle graphic was a gift from former Alpha, Kari Laughingwolf. Any WWWW member can use the candle on her webpage or blog.
