Invited my protectors, energies that support my work, four directions. Those who are not supportive are simply not invited. Offer local gin, local whiskey, fatwood from dad. Set out my knife, yarrow, Amanda’s energetic portrait, deck, river rocks, little bag of yarrow. Keep the ghost pipe tincture on me. Bare feet in the dirt. Eat chocolate. 

My intention does not lend itself well to words: help me understand and process what you’ve been teaching, in the spaces that have no words. I need to “level up” – there’s been so much, yet I still feel so stuck. 

Sat on my Jeep tailgate and talked, apologized for all the things I didn’t say. Things I couldn’t say. And then I said them aloud for the first time. I told my protectors I felt crazy and stupid. 
The Alchemist: “Just because you can’t see doesn’t mean something isn’t there.” 

When I watched the fire, I would have sworn they were sitting across. When I looked up, I was alone. The flames danced yellow and blue under the blue-black night sky and an almost-full moon. I asked for protection, for the protectors to step up and step in, to take care. 

All I wanted was to bury my face in Bear’s shoulder. Lean into the warmth, feel something solid, strong, and comforting. Suddenly there was a massive presence on either side of me, bigger than the Jeep yet inside the Jeep, and each felt different. One stayed closer. It was Bear, and without battle scars. 
Bear: “Little One.”
This time I realized it’s not “Little One” as in “small human,” but as in “Little Bear.” It’s always been a term of endearment, but something felt warmer, greater, and finally clicked into place. 

That evening was spent on the mountaintop and elsewhere. I could feel Bear beside me while sitting on my tailgate or standing by the fire, while also walking through an old growth forest or alongside the silver river. 

Standing by the fire on the mountaintop, Bear and I watched the flames pop and snap. Bear towered over my left; the top of my head barely came to the bottom of his/their shoulder blade.

“Missing myself hurts more than anything.”

Simultaneously, the version of myself on the riverbank buried my face in Bear’s shoulder. 

I am so hungry all night. This food was supposed to last two days. 
Bear: “It’s good for you.” 

Next morning: sitting on the tailgate watching the fire and clouds on the mountains, thinking about restarting my Instagram and hanging out with Ram. I asked who they are and how to address them, because Ram is a description of how I see them but doesn’t explain who they are. They are creativity, passion, creation. The Alchemist builds and creates, the Ram is passion and creates. They are complimentary puzzle pieces, different, the same, similar. Upon asking Ram if they could help me create, if they’d like to work on some small projects I’ve been considering. The question was met with a sense of unadulterated glee.
Ram: “We can remake the world; we can create beyond your wildest dreams.”

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