The Origins of Sophie's Heart Labyrinth

 Past Life Regressions are fascinating and can often turn up nuggets of wisdom. Sometimes they lead to healing. Sometimes they lead to sharing that method of healing.  That is the case with Sophie's Heart.

An apple tree is a wonderful magical place to hide, to tell stories, to flee what adults want you to do.  A seven year old can disappear into it’s branches easily.  Sophie had left her new tabard near the wall of the orchard buried under some branches.  She was a bit chill in only her shift and she sometimes could feel the spring bees’ wings against her arms and legs.  The blossoms smelled so delicious and sweet.  The humming of the bees lulled her to slumber. Her dreams were far away from the wedding in the Great Hall.  Imagine your groom being an Ax held by an smelly, ancient man. Well, at only seven Sophie knew it would be years and years before her real groom, the Lord of a coastal manor, would come to collect her.  Meanwhile she was able to flee the celebration after a ceremonial drink of wine and a light plate of food. 
Her skin was goose bumped when she awoke to a sound below her.  A hum that replaced the bees’.  It turned to a soft song. It seemed to go back and forth and around on itself.  Peeking down she saw a young man dropping what appeared to be seeds in a pattern under her favorite tree singing as he went. She leaned out further knocking some petals down on him.  He sang louder but didn’t stop until the pattern seemed complete.  He then went back over the pattern with some dirt from a second bag he carried.  By the time  he was done, Sophie was shivering violently.  He looked up into her eyes and held out his arms.  She came down into them to be wrapped in his cloak.  This was Daffyd, a traveller from Wales.  Not tall, kind of square of shoulder, in general, brown - brown eyes, brown hair, very tanned skin from living on the road.  He laughed.  And so their friendship began.  Yes, just friends.  After all he was but 14 and she but 7. 

Bear with the story, good people, although I know it seems long.  Not too long after Daffyd and Sophie met at her Ax Wedding, the Anarchy began.  King Stephen and the Empress Matilda both wanted to rule England.  In general the Southwest was for Matilda and the Southeast was for Stephen but the war went back and forth many times.  Some people changed sides and then back again.  The year that would have seen Sophie married to her Lord for real came and went without him coming. The war was close then and the men were off fighting.  Then after more years word came that her Lord had fallen dead. She was now the heiress of a Manor on the Coast to her father’s delight. Her sister had been married off and already had children.  Life seemed quite good.  But then another Lord was found for her.  This time she refused. How could her father marry her off again to another old ugly man? But another Ax Marriage took place with Sophie desperately searching for ways of getting out the this marriage.  After all she had her own wealth now.  She didn’t need to bring more land to her father.If that man touched her, she would kill him. Her heart was dark and the darkness sank into her soul.
Daffyd meanwhile showed up occasionally all through the war.  Their friendship solidified and strengthened.  Sophie asked her friend if he knew plants that would kill?  She was surprised at his reaction.  They often talked of plants and trees and what they could do. He had grown into a Healer.  Ready to settle down back in Wales. Why would he not help her escape her fate? She was determined, on hearing her new Lord was arriving at the manor, to kill him no matter what. Daffyd would have nothing to do with that.  When he left he asked her to come, but she refused out of anger at his not helping her. She didn’t see that he had offered her the escape she craved.  He had offered her the world.
Two days later her new Lord arrived. It was to be a quick celebration for the war was back in the neighborhood and her Lord needed to get back to his troops.  Sophie was ready.  The ground up dried mushroom in a handkerchief awaiting the first opportunity. It came soon Her hand hovered over the cup.  Hatred of her father and her new Lord, of the times that dictated such things could happen seethed in her heart. She stirred the dark liquid to take to her new husband.
On her plate a bundle of herbs appeared. She hadn’t noticed them before. Their scent was heavenly. It distracted her thoughts so much she forgot she was going to give the poisoned cup to her husband. It slid from her hand spilling on the floor. The orchard with the wildflower labyrinth Daffyd had created called her. She begged to be excused to clean up her dress. In her room she suddenly knew what she had to do.  She gathered a bag of clothes and a few precious things her mother gifted her.  Then she slipped out to the stables taking her sturdy pony and went to the orchard. Under their tree, she found the labyrinth. She remembered him putting a rolled up skin within the now ancient tree.  A map.  She followed it even riding at night though it was so dangerous to be out.  In three days she came to a valley in Wales.  It was beautifully green and at the Southeastern edge there was a large labyrinth made of herbs and an apple tree in the center.  That is where she found Daffyd.  It was Wales.  English laws didn’t apply.  Well, you know the rest.

Plug it in Plug it in

Batteries Included

When we are born - we are born plugged into the Universe.
As we grow up we separate more and more from Source.  We pull apart from the energies around  us allowing  distractions, allowing pain and hardships distract us from beneficial energies.

To recharge your batteries - reconnect the plug.  Mediate. Take a walk in the woods or the park.  Hug a tree.  Look up at the sky and clouds.  Look up at the moon and stars. Look deep into the eyes of your loved ones including your pets.

Reconnect.

(if you can't go out, make your own tree.)

A Different View

Sometime ago, many years, my nephew came into my room to check out the pictures on my wall. I was pleased.  I love when people look at the part of me I put up for myself but also for others to share.  The books and the pictures are my way of showing part of who I am.  They show the whimsical humorous side of me, the magical woo-woo side of me, beauty and mystery through my eyes, the intensity, the lightness and the connection of nature.  More than likely if you open on of the books you will see how my mind works.

The nephew came into the room quietly.  After a moment he got twitchy and put his head down shoulders up.  I asked him what was up?  He finally asked - why do you have that horrible, ugly, dark painting on your wall?  That took me totally by surprise for I look at Goya's View of Toledo as a lovely sunny picture.  It's just a print by the way.  Yes, it has dark greens and grays in it but dark, no.  So I explained to him what I saw. -See! It has sun coming through those billowing clouds and there's washerwomen at the river in the gorge below the town doing their chores in the newly emerged sunshine.  The stones of the city glow.  The radiance from the clouds is miraculous.  This picture makes me happy.  It makes me feel at home.

He looked dubious or skeptical perhaps circling his way from the painting then slouching out of the room. He was around age 11, I think.  I just couldn't imagine why he thought it was dark and ugly.
On thinking of this episode later I realize it's a good thing to take a second look at what's around you seeing it from another view.  Sometimes we are so wrapped up in our own views we forget that other people don't feel the same emotions we feel when we look at something.  They have different references that come from their own experiences.  My nephew was adopted from Guatemala when he was five or six.  While he did have a mother who loved him I'm told he ran the streets wild.  She chose to make an adoption plan for him.  She had many more children some who were also adopted out to the United States. I don't know if I'm correct at why he thought this painting had such a visceral reaction for him but I think he equated happy things with blue sky and bright colors.  I also expect that dark greens and grays held not so good memories for him.

Perhaps what we need to do is to seek out the why or how people are thinking. Discover the differences.  Feel what they may feel.

I wonder if the nephew still thinks View of Toledo is a horrible, ugly, dark picture at age 33? Some art critics would agree with him.

Versifications - Occasional fits of verse and poetry

The Gardener (Seed Sower)

In her labyrinthine garden
from earth, from sky
from water, from sun -
a small seed
warms.

A tendril up, a rootlet down -
two small spirals
twisting towards light and dark -
push to freedom, press to nourishment -
growing bolder both
from dark of moon
to fullness in time.
Lovely magenta blooms
going to seed under a Blue Moon.

She stands nearby
drawing in moonlight with every breath -
gathering seed puffs,
feather light,
magenta kernels clinging to white fluff
perched on stems dying, set to fly.

Breathing out gently.
Blowing upwards and outwards
Her breath lifts tiny beings
planting hope and joy wherever moon shines her light.

Humming a grateful tune, she smiles,
plucking the next seed pod
to release under the Blue Moon.

Possibilities

Steps to Tintagel Castle

Not long ago I was at a memorial for a friend who had passed on. I ran into the sister of someone another friend who had passed recently. I told her that I missed her sister's presence. I rarely saw her sister as she knew. She looked a bit puzzled. 

What I really meant was that I missed the possibility, now gone, of meeting her sister on the street, or in a bookstore, or in a meeting. The possibility of having that person to tea and discussing books all afternoon. The possibility of laughing with her again. The possibility of subtle humor shared. To those left on earth that person becomes finite. The possibility of doing more with them, of being more is gone.  I miss possibilities.

My Tree of Life

I love the winter holidays.  Oh, not the crazy commercialism, the endless religious songs, or the seriousness of Spirit that underlies the Christian holiday for me. Everyone tries so hard to be compassionate and kind especially to those who have less financial success than oneself.  They mean it.  They really do.  Someday it may actually last more than the season, too.  I hope so. But I love the connection with the earth and sky in the winter solstice.  I love that little humming thrum from the earth that is always in my spine and skull even though She seems to be asleep.  I love the brightness of the stars and moon that reveal the Otherworld to me.

I love the tree.  Not the Christmas tree but the Tree of Life - the Evergreen. 
I spend a great deal of time putting up and decorating my tree.  It’s the center of my holiday.  Over time I’ve chosen each ornament for it’s meaning to me.  Each one carefully thought about not just in the buying of it but all through the season. 

The Star, of course, is the symbol of the Light that guides me always.  Each little bird is a flight of hope and freedom. The fruits - pear, apple and pomegranate - symbolize abundance and the sweetness of life.I think they also mean sharing in the sense of sharing bread with guests.

Some of the ornaments are purely family or cultural tradition like the pickle and the oldest and plainest one that came to me from my grandparents.  They initiated me into my glass ornament passion. 
Then there’s the tarnished angels sitting in the lower branches - fallen.  They remind me that I still have many things to work upon.  I still have trouble giving up grudges and forgiving in particular.  They used to sparkle silver in the sun.  My Christian friend was so pleased that I accepted them.  I used to shine them up every year just for her.  Over the years our friendship lessened, the miles increased and the angels tarnished as silver will do.  I find I like them much better like that.  More like me.  They remind me I shine up pretty well. 

The cat ornaments are for friendship and love, for independence and freedom.  Cats have always been all those things for me and more. The ornaments remind me of all the kittens I’ve held, cuddled and found home for.  The cats give me life purpose in the times that I’ve thought I wasn’t worth anything.

That little colorful burro isn’t Mary’s ride to Bethlehem.  He symbolizes stubbornness and tenacity to keep going.  He also stands for patience.  My road has been winding turning back on itself often and very rarely clear to me.

There are quite a few Santa Claus images on the tree.  Who doesn’t love Santa?  Whether he is St. Nicolas who gives toys or Nast’s jolly elf,  how can one not enjoy him.  I can’t resist a guy in red, fur trimmed underwear with a belly that jiggles like a bowlful of jelly. 

This year a clever fox joined the crew.  He’s smart.  He thinks a lot and knows how to maneuver through all sorts of situations. 

Also this year a chubby Zen snowman mediates on one branch of my tree.  A reminder to stay mindful in the moment  and to find those parts of me that aren’t always so conspicuous in me.  Winter is a good time to go within and do that inner work that is so easy to put aside in the business of the warmer months.

The pine cone is naturally for the continuance of life.

The turtle is for endurance and strength.  You can build a whole world on the shell of the turtle, you know, according to some creation myths. 

There are bells for the joy of living  and a funny owl or two for wisdom and guidance especially now in my new home next door to the Barred Owl family.

There are places saved just for fun ornaments also.  Ones that make me laugh or remind me of a friend or two.  The ornate but empty birdcage, the nutcrackers standing so stiff and seriously,  the red rose of beauty and love.

The lights symbolize my desperate need for Light through the Solstice.  It’s so dark for so long up here in the north country.  My soul cries for it to come back,  I keep the lights on all through the season.  I can’t bear to turn them off.  But from the Solstice on the Lights become the heart of hopeful Spring resurrecting the Sun and warmth to come.  Each minute added to each day offers a little nudge to awaken and create.

For now though I’m just sitting here on the couch in the middle of the night with the kitties on my feet and lap enjoying my tree of my life.

New Name and New Offerings

I fear I have too much in common with trees sometimes.  Everything seems to grow slowly, needing just the correct conditions to thrive and flourish.   You haven't heard from me in awhile because I have been growing a small grove of trees.

In Avallon Grove we facilitate your journey through asking questions using the ancient skills of dowsing, Tarot and oracles card divination, and meditation.  We use these questions to create pathways of exploration of our lives through heart, mind and spirit.  Three labyrinths also assist in guiding us through finding the correct questions and answers - Sophie's Heart, Tesla's Coil, and Bast's Path.

If in your explorations you feel the need for energywork, in the Grove you can also receive Reiki and ASHwork (activated space healing) both of which can lead to the paths of healing through relieving stress, anxiety and opening new healing spaces between you and the issues you need to address.

After each section of work you can walk through the woods, talk to the Fae, the trees or your spirit guides who you may find on your walk or you can sit and meditate in the woods, and garden/yard.  There are meditation spaces everywhere.

The exploration modalities used in the Grove can be used together for deep experience or singly for "spurts" of growing/learning.  The process is designed specifically for you and what you need.  You may even find someone to guide you through Qigong or yoga also. 

The goal of Avallon Grove is to provide safe methods to fully search for questions and answers in all parts of your emotional, spiritual and physical life.


Avallon Grove formerly was known as Avallon Dowsing and Reiki.














Maybe it was a gift we bequeath to the dead, this idea that they would have been so good at all the things at which we fear we will fail. Meg Waite Clayton