Old Mountain Trail Springtime

After-Bridge, Trance Notes, Acclimation

My threshold experience and trance the other night has left me with after effects. Though I felt—blocked, as if the bridge to C-L L-C  was imperfect and sputtering often—it revealed a lot to me regarding my connection to the Otherworlds. I am there, and I am here, and vice versa. Right now, she sits in the woods, thinking and reflecting. Our lives parallel. Not reflections, per se, or that doesn’t seem the best metaphor, but I can see paralleling moments. [They grow more parallel, more reflected as we come near the “mirror.”]

[The ritual space] feels thinner, or it feels as if I’ve been wearing paths into the Otherworlds there. Stepping down the steps earlier, I felt it easier to glide along the edges of the Otherworlds. Walking in the bright clear sun, I could feel the Otherworlds very close. C and I very close, a fervent belief, a blink, a glance around the corner—that close, but also that far.

But very much that close, and the ôl-vala is there, and— Sometimes it’s like finding half your spirit—others, you don’t [realize] the Other was missing.

K and I spoke: I’ve acclimated, through exploration and desire. He’s also a good guide, he says, and I’ve been walking in the Otherworlds, wearing paths of many kinds.

I feel taller. I want to rise higher, but stolidly.

Contrasts help, as I’ve noted, but acclimation helps, too.

I’ve also been comparatively isolate, and that’s reflected in the Otherworlds I’ve—found. K says there are more social Otherworlds, but those will unfurl in time.

One thing I did find the other night, last night (?), was a red ring, which I slid onto my ring finger, under my gloves. But I went and bathed in the waters of Gli’an’s pool this morning, before wandering to the Tower. I want to make all of it, mountain wood and Tower, more my home in Saiyûnor than they already are—

—the glade is a bridge point, and I should take advantage of that.

And the light is always there, not burning, though it could, and I am in both places both worlds (and more) at once, and I want to bridge and threshold my way to integration, to cross and go back and forth. And the Morrigan was there, behind me, pushing, nudging, guarding—calling.

[ôl-vala/FitE] I may want to try to write some “fiction” as a way to envision and strengthen my connection, the bridge between.

Calling the Guardians—

One thing that occurred to me as I lay in bed this morning was that I should [pentacle] more in my office—I did so at [old work place] at my station.

I feel I forgot something—

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