I pulled my car to a stop on the Oregon Coast as a pale gray glow began to creep over the landscape. While it was what I would consider to be pre-dawn as the sun itself hadn't peeked over the horizon, there was enough light to see by so the headlamp I had brought with me was left in the car. With the rain falling steadily, I knew that I would soon be drenched to the bone regardless of what I wore, so I stripped off my pants and boots, changed into cargo shorts and aqua socks, slipped into a rain jacket and threw my pack on.
Setting down the beach at a jog, I headed for the trail that headed up into the cliffs and would eventually descend down into the cave site. I was racing the rising sun, hoping to make it to the cave before the sun fully rose. The steady rain was a blessing on some portions of the trail, turning the footprints left in the sandy hills by other hikers to concrete, making portions of the ascent much easier than they usually are. However, as I neared the site and took my first step onto the steep sandstone descent, I sunk up to my knees in mud and realized that there was potentially a serious problem. The rain had turned the incredibly steep trail into a bog. I could make it to the bottom and easily reach the cave from there; the question was could I make it back up?
It would have been easier if I had been able to simply slide to the bottom of the cliff; easier, but incredibly painful due to frequent outcroppings of stone. Instead I took it one step at a time, sinking to the top of my calves with each lurch forward, having to forcibly pull my leg from the mire before I could move forward.
I reached the bottom and stopped, allowing myself to center and attune to the site. I left an offering with the stone guardian of the site and started up the trail that led to cave. There was a low rock wall to my right that the surf crashed against, sending balls of sea foam into the air, the foam drifting on the wind like large fluffy snowflakes. It was a mental treat after the rough descent into site. I had followed the lead of the spirit world and headed for the cave, rather than the mountains and snow and the drifting foam was a like a gift, being treated to the ocean's version of snow.
After making my way up the narrow, muddy trail, I came within sight of the cave and realized that the tide had not receded enough to fully reveal the site. The ocean still filled the cave, albeit only ankle deep and while I was already drenched from the rainfall and the muddy descent, I was directed to make my way to the top of a large stone that stood by itself and overlooked the mouth of the cave. It was a journey that literally required a leap of faith as I hurled myself over the gap between trail and stone and landed atop my very wet perch.
I called upon the spirit that I had worked with for the last several years, the "handmaiden" that had also served as my teacher, and the ocean immediately rose several feet in response to my call, the surf completely covering a six foot high stone that stood in the cave's mouth. I had brought a handful of ornate glass beads and offered them as a gift, hurling them into the sea. I then called upon the goddess of the sea that the handmaiden had introduced me to and the sea, which had risen and stayed at a high level for several waves, immediately receded. Being in the spatial mindset that I use in shamanic work, I asked the handmaiden, "Is the goddess only an aspect of who you are?" and the sea immediately rose once more. The ocean wasn't following the natural rhythm of wave action, but would rise and fall like a constant storm surge, the waves still playing on the surface of the water while the surge maintained its presence without receding. Then I asked, "Are you also the goddess that I honored during my Minoan lifetime?" and the sea rose even higher in response to my question. It was an interesting concept with some significant theological implications.
I finished my rite, thanking the goddess for her assistance and training and turned and leapt back to the path. On my way back to the ascending trail, a stone, shaped like a well-weathered Venus of Willendorf stood out among all of the other stones. Not only was it a different color than the surrounding rocks, but it wasn't from the same geological family. I stopped and picked it up, immediately understanding that it was a gift for my good friend Jason.
I carefully stepped off the trail that led to the cave and onto the ascent. Taking one step forward, I immediately slid ten feet backward, stopping only when I reached the narrow, rocky beach. I'm one of the few people that I know who, having found their escape route almost completely impassable, would laugh out loud. If my path had taught me anything, it was that our only limitations are our own. As I reflected back to a rainy day in Georgia during my military special operations training, I saw the muddy ascent before me not as an obstacle, but as an opportunity to push myself, get covered in mud, and have a little fun.
In the end, the ascent wasn't as difficult as it appeared. Our challenges never are.
I returned to the car and drove to another beach. One of my goals for 2006 is to add more of a healing element to my spiritual path, an area that I've neglected for some time. I'm fairly adept at healing myself, but I have yet to extend that energy to others. I'm planning on learning some energy work and taking up massage, including hot stone massage. Heading out into the rain once more, I carried a pocketful of large square glass beads, leaving one in the place of each stone that I collected with the intent of using them in massage.
The beach was covered with sea foam, large drifts of it blowing back and forth across the beach. There were points in time when I was standing up to my knees in "sea snow," which was strangely quite a treat.
I was also directed to take a handful of stones as gifts to people that I know in much the same way that my intention was brought to the stone for my friend Jason. What was interesting is whenever I would try to find a stone for someone on my own, the sea would sweep in as soon as I bent over to reach for it. With the amount of sea foam on the waves, not only was the stone immediately hidden from eyes, but it would generally be swept away
by the waves. In one case, my stubbornness got the better of me and I tried four times to collect a stone for one person, being stopped each time I tried. I was also given four stones for myself - one as a simple gift and three that are intended to represent lessons that I'll learn in the coming year.
It was one of those days when everything unfolded perfectly. While it rained all day, the weather was strangely warm, especially for the Oregon Coast in the third week in December. I was soaked to the bone, but was never cold. When I stopped by The Otis Cafe (a wonderful roadside diner with food so good it's been favorably reviewed in several national magazines), they had exactly the number of cinnamon rolls left that I needed to take back to my office.
In the end, it was more of a holiday celebration with the spirit world than a deeper ritual or a intense lesson to be learned. Which, as the way these things work out, was exactly what I needed and a welcome addition to my solstice celebration.