After having this experience of a vision, or a strange waking dream about me wearing antlers, there’s been synchronicity everywhere with it – almost like I’m being gently reminded to keep it in mind.

I left that experience feeling that I should make a headdress with antlers on it, which apparently, unbeknownst to me, is a huge trend right now in fashion (to my eternal dismay). However, I want to make the headdress not to wear necessarily – if so only in ceremony – but as more of an art project dedicated to the spirit of the forest. A devotion.

Last weekend I went to a friend’s way in the country and right outside their cabin they had a new, massive set of elk horns. I was mesmerized, swear I stood and stared for 10 minutes, my eyes following the curves. It was hard to get enough of them.

Also the blogosphere sometimes mirrors where I’m at, which is very intriguing when it happens. Here are some examples of posts I saw after I posted mine (kudos) – I’m really enjoying the theme ; ) Maybe it’s the time of year? With autumn coming on and leaves falling from trees, the crisp air makes one think of being inside away from the darkening corners of the forest, where the wild things are.

Finding the Horns of the Stag

In The Dark, He Waits

Learning to Meditate

It seems to me that this god wants to be heard.

 

Here are some cool antlers on Etsy. I came across all of this antler-mania first here, when I was researching how I would go about making the headdress.

I have to say … I have spoken in this blog many times about me being ‘head-blind’ (as I was told it was called). I don’t hear, see or taste spirits – though I know others do and I have witnessed it. It’s just a sense that some have and some don’t. I also have not decided whether gods are real or not (with respect to all), and so have not spoken to them. This is the first time I have felt that perhaps I am being called out by something – now whether it’s by spirits, or by the river of creative force that exists everywhere, or by my higher self I can’t say. But it is definitely something new. And so of course I must follow. What can I say ? I am a cat.

In conclusion I wanted to repost this poem once again by Coyopa. I love it so – and it is perfect for the occasion.

Sometimes a Wild God

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.
He is awkward and does not know the ways
Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.
His voice turns wine into vinegar.

When he arrives at the door,
You will probably fear him.
He reminds you of something dark
That you might have dreamt,
Or the secret you do not wish to be shared.

He will not ring the doorbell;
Instead he scrapes at the door
With his bloody hands,
Though there are primroses
Growing about his feet.

You do not want to let him in.
You are very busy.
It is late, or early, and besides…
You cannot look at him straight
Because he makes you want to cry.

The dog barks.
The wild god smiles,
Holds out his hand.
The dog licks his wounds
And leads him inside.

The wild god stands in your kitchen.
Ivy is taking over your sideboard;
Mistletoe has moved into the lampshades
And wrens are beginning to sing
An ancient song in the mouth of your kettle.

‘I haven’t much,’ you say
And give him the worst of your food.
He sits at the table, bleeding.
He coughs up foxes.
There are moles in his eyes.

When your wife calls down,
You close the door and
Tell her it’s fine.
You will not let her see
The strange guest at your table.

The wild god asks for whiskey
And you pour a glass for him,
Then a glass for yourself.
Three snakes are beginning to nest
In your voicebox. You cough.

Oh, limitless space.
Oh, eternal mystery.
Oh, endless cycles of death and birth.
Oh, miracle of life.
Oh, the wondrous dance of it all.

You cough again,
Evict the snakes and
Water down the whiskey,
Wondering how you got so old
And where it all went to.

The wild god reaches into a bag
Made of otters and red nightingales.
He pulls out a two-reeded pipe,
Raises an eyebrow
And all the birds begin to sing.

The fox leaps into your eyes.
The moles rush from the darkness.
The snakes pour through your body.
Your dog howls and upstairs
Your wife both exhalts and weeps at once.

Read the rest here

featured image by Steve Mclaren via Flickr CC
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