Circles

9.27.18 Yellow Spectral Human

Wind picks up sheets, rising water overflows, and the saturated ground squelches underfoot. I step into the opening and begin walking toward the dim distant light. The ground is muddy near the entrance, then changes to gritty damp under my bare feet a little further in.

I walk toward the dim light, gradually growing brighter, revealing torches wedged into grooves on the rock walls, their orange yellow flicker casting a glow that bounces off red and ochre rocks, gleaming where water trickles through cracks, casting shifting shadows in pockets untouched by candescence. I walk through streams of water where the trickle meets the ground and runs, making a dash for lower ground. Before long I’m in an enormous cavern where a group of people is gathered, chanting.

Women move sinuously in a circle around a fire. Dressed in red robes, blouses, skirts, dresses, trousers, all manner of styles, all red. Flickering and made entirely of orange white yellow flames, blue eyed, a tall woman whirls inside the fire, her hands stoke the coals, send sparks flying. She beckons to me with a smile, the flames subside, the circle disappears, she steps toward me, a golden haired beauty, smooth skinned, blue eyed, and angel dressed in red robes.

“Join us sister, come, be part of our circle, dance with us, join your power with ours, together we will be stronger . . .” she croons in a musical voice.

Around her I see women in different places. Some are walking briskly on city streets, confident and sure of themselves. Some are gathering flowers and herbs in the countryside, radiantly glowing. Some are seated, book open in front of them, pen moving spilling words on blank pages. Some are cooking, some are playing guitar on the sidewalk. So many women, different women, yet they all have a common feel to them, linking them. It’s a crackling energy, at first I perceive it as vitality, illumination, vigor, but as I scan the scenes flashing by, enter the scenes themselves suddenly winged, flying within the flashes, I notice their eyes are mostly dull. Here and there, a spark, but more frequently not; the eyes hold a blankness at odds with the determined energy that they display.

“Come sister, join us, be one with us, together all our dreams are made manifest. Together we dream with and for each other, together together . . .” the beauty speaks, seductively, with her words images of myself begin flashing by, each one revealing a dream held in my heart, each one revealing the dreams come into fruition. I see myself charged, up with energy streaming from me, but what about the eyes? I look into the eyes mirrored back and see that same dullness, hidden behind temporary sparks.

Sparks, the golden haired beauty flickers sparks everywhere from inside the fire. I observe her closely and gasp. I’m seeing right through her, she’s not facing me as she appears, but is weaving an illusion from within the flames from which she’s not moved. The women are chanting and circling her and she’s pulling energetic strands from them to fuel herself, charge her song. They appear oblivious or perhaps they’re all right with the use of their energy in this way.

Sparks, the golden haired beauty, has a momentary flash in her eyes, changing them from blue to blood red as she notices that her spell is not affecting me. Her face twists and she stretches out her flaming neck, a fiery mass of sinew, toward one of the women and she smiles.

Flash, I see through the other woman’s eyes, the soothing presence of a loving sister approaching her, with a blessing, how wonderful to share in this way. She leans forward and joins in an embrace, receives a gentle kiss on her brow.

Flash, through my own eyes I see sparks, the puckered blood red mouth drawing energy from another woman’s brow, coiled around her, squeezing out her force.

I know not what she’s going to do with her reinforced power, drawn from a sister in circle. As I watch, I see sparks, shifting scenes swirl around her and she uses the energy drawn to create with their dreams, visions, thoughts, ideas, and enrich herself, dispensing enough back at them that they believe their dreams are on the way to coming true, fueling them with feverous determination. That is the source of the energy I saw crackling around the women, not vitality, but fervor, the fervor of the converted, of zealots, of believers who missed the lie in belief.

I blink and understand the lingering dullness in their eyes, a small peek into what’s behind the illusion woven from their belief, for indeed they haven’t gone anywhere, nor made anything manifest, other than believing that it is so, and this seems to be enough for them. It’s not for me. The lure of this circle holds no appeal for me.

A string of circles, beaded around a bigger circle, present themselves. They all offer something: solace, fellowship, power, keys, knowledge, healing, a welcome place to belong, community. They have a variety of methods by means of which to partake of the offerings, all you have to do is say yes, step into the circle, show up, let yourself be seen, be loved, be held, be yourself; dissolve into the group behind which is always one solitary figure or two who organize and dispense the offerings, the exchange. They croon words: trust, respect, allow, forgive, shine, glow, love, light, gratitude, empowerment, equality::the words are the commodity by means of which to attract and allure, words spelling soft magic, invisible magic, the kind of magic born of enchantment, illusion, obfuscation . . .it serves the wielder alone, obscuring true identity behind a parlance artfully woven.

“Let go, trust this, let go of paranoia, doubt, fear, let go and trust this. Allow yourself to be held, to be loved in circle,” she murmurs, “We’ll go so much further together than alone. Why choose a solitary journey when you can travel in company, a bundle of sticks is stronger than one twig.”

There is truth in her words. The flames rise up higher and cast light around the circle. I see something else now. The circle is a mirror. A round place that has neither end nor beginning; it is a continuous unbroken stream. The center is the same distance from all points on the circle. Everyone circling has equal access to the center, yet some are closer to others on the circle itself. The purpose of the circle is not to put people in close or distant proximity to one another, but to bring them all within the same reach from the center that they orbit. The circle mirrors the energy brought to it, and that comes from each person forming the circle.

Where there is desire and need for something, those go into the creation of the circle becoming part of the energy core, reflecting back and amplifying those desires and needs. The circle becomes a conduit for what the circlers have brought with them. Where there is fear, doubt, trust and hope, every type of energy becomes part of the circle at hand. The circle itself is not self-generating but generated by the ones who shape it. It can be anything, thus it offers everything, what it is for each person is based on who they are and what they bring with themselves, what they allow within themselves.

For those wanting community, something bigger than themselves to dissolve into, forget themselves and get lost in, the circle gives them that. They remain as dull and blank eyed as they were when they joined the circle, yet they carry with them a sense of determination and force derived from having attained what they wanted. For those wanting power with which to create and profit, the circle gives them that in equal measure. The circle changes nobody circling unless they have brought a desire to change with them, in which case they too will attain what they desire.

It is a place of equality for all who circle, shape the circle, only equal doesn’t mean identical, it means without distinction or prejudice, everyone has equal access to the core to do with whatever they conceive of. For those who want knowledge, they may access that from the collective fire at the core. The bigger the circle, however, the further away everyone gets from the core energy, which itself also increases in intensity and strength. To be in circle is, regardless of what you bring, to be willing to share space, cooperatively create it, even if you come and go briefly. The nature of various circles will thus be determined by the nature of those who hold the circle together, a mirror reflecting the circlers.

Blink. I look at this circle again and feel a sudden sense of freedom. I could join it if I wanted to, the circle itself is not a threat, nor is the golden haired beauty sparking at the center a danger to me or to anybody. If there is a threat or danger it exists inside myself. Not outside. There are no predators and prey here yet there are, if that’s what’s being brought along from within, self-defined either consciously or not. I don’t feel any urge to join this circle despite these realizations, I am free to choose, and circles go around forever. I choose to journey on instead of joining. The sparks sizzle in the campfire, when they die down there’s nothing there, no circle, no fire, no people, nobody. I turn and walk on.

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