In the physical world, I know that I do not have the skill, the dexterity, the savvy to walk in the Oracle’s Woods. I would likely get eaten by a cougar.
There is a brief moment where I tell myself that am not qualified to write these stories. Because writing a story about myself walking in the Oracle’s Woods implies that I am badass enough to walk in her woods, and my nasty false ego tells me I’m not good enough. Tells me that my stories are an egotistical lie. See the trick it plays there? The false ego is usually the part telling you you’re not good enough and you’re a narcissistic jerk for even considering that you are good enough.
But then a smarter part of myself speaks-up and says, “You have the visions of the Oracle. The Oracle’s Woods are in you. Therefore, you are worthy. Write the damned stories all ready.”
I still know that in physical reality, I am not a forest ninja. I am not a tracker, not an herbalist. I don’t actually spend that much time in the woods. That’s not good for me. My NDD is as acute as anyone else’s. But I am fully dependant upon human civilization. I don’t really like sleeping on the ground. I don’t particularly like camping – swaddling myself in cocoons of gauze-like petroleum plastics and walking on trails that so many other people have walked on that they scream with the same psychic echoes that I’m bombarded with all the time anyway.
I like my space. I like my routines. I like my kitchen, and my bed, and my toilet paper. In physical reality, The Woods are a far away place that one must go to. One must leave the sphere of human civilization and go “outside”. I can feel the echo past (or otherwise) lives where I really am a forest ninja. Where I have the skills and knowledge to walk in the woods with a sense of belonging. But in this life, in this reality, I am still a product of my environment, and a particularly delicate one at that.
But in the spiritual reality, the Woods are everywhere, all the time. There is no “inside” VS “outside”. This was also historical reality. Wherever I walk, I feel the echo of the past; the echo of the forest-that-used-to-be. Like a shadow. Like a reflection in a shop window. I spend a lot of time in those Woods. A lot of time.
Sometimes, when my Ego is particularly insistent about telling me that I’m not good enough, one of my spirit guides comes to me. A red fox with a white tail and delicate little feet. Una comes to hold my hand, to show me the way. She comes to lend me her fox senses. To lend me her sense of smell, her sense of hearing, her sense of play. Her sense of curiosity and her sense of delicate caution.
Often as not I don’t need a guide, because these are the paths that I tread every day and I know them well. Una comes to me anyways, because we enjoy each other’s company. And the Oracle is there with me whenever I think of her. I have conversations with her without even realizing it. It’s those thoughts – the thoughts that happen when my imagination is running free without my realizing it – it’s those thoughts that are the clearest visions. It’s those thoughts that are the inspired channelling.
When I sat down this morning, I thought I was gonna write-out an actual conversation with the Oracle. I still need to write that post. But instead, this came out. Whatever “this” is. I think it’s an analysis of the way my ego gets in the way of my consciousness. Sabotages the creative process. It is a post to work through my feelings unworthiness.
But the Oracle tells me that I am worthy simply because I exist. It is not possible to not be un-worthy. That’s not a free pass to be a nincompoop. It requires me to take responsibility for my own sense of self-worth, my sense of authority and my motivation.
In the end, being worthy requires that I love myself.