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 Do not be hardened by the pain
and cruelty of this world. Be strong enough to be gentle, to be soft and supple like running water, gracefully bending around sudden turns, lithely waving in strong winds, freely flowing over sharp rocks, all the while quietly sculpting this hard world into ever deeper beauty, gently eroding rigid rock into silken sand, tenderly transforming human cruelty into human kindness. Remember, true strength is not found in the stone, but in the water that shapes the stone. — L.R. Knost
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 In Slavic mythology a Sirin is a bird woman generally associated with benevolence, likely introduced into Ukraine and Russia and much of Eastern Europe by the Persians. When birds flew south for the winter, it was thought Sirins flew south too, to a mystic land near the Euphrates where souls go after death.
A Sirin can be just about any type of bird with a woman's head, sometimes more angel-like or human with feathered tail and wings. Sirins live in apple trees of Paradise, or in Eden, or in a forest on the periphery of Eden. They sing beautifully, and this is a call to souls of the newly dead, so that they may find their way to Paradise. Only people who have known happiness can hear the Sirin sing, and it is like a premonition of heavenly bliss. In some legends Sirin is not a class of creature, but is the name of a single birdwoman, and she has such sisters as Alkonost who can sing away all memory bringing peace to souls that were grieving over their release from the living world; Gamayun from an eastern paradise whose songs in an angelic language awaken prophetic abilities and divine wisdom; Raróg the fire-falcon similar to the Phoenix; and Stratim the mother of all birds and the cause of storms far at sea where she dwells. "Sirin" aka "Blue Bird" by Russian painter and illustrator Sergey Solomko (1867-1928)  As you fall
asleep tonight, do not take this inhalation for granted. Honor her like a royal guest. Make a spacious tent of your flesh, for She who scattered the galaxies and harvested all their clustered stars has come to dwell in the vineyard of your body. She will pour the Milky Way down your backbone, anointing you with spikenard from her fathomless jar of whimsy. Let each expiration guide you to a mirror of moonlight. The key is silence. Step through. Follow her rainbow into the void where wings of astonishment will carry you from death to death. Fathom the sap. A scent of blossoms from the arbor under your ribs will guide you home, heart widened by a memory of stillness. Let her lure you down green corridors and pull you into the seed. If you won’t become hollow, how can you be filled with the music of Imbolc? by Fred LaMott photography Hiseo Kanno  It’s the season when we tell children the tales of Santa and his flying reindeer. But this year why not tell the story of the sacred “Deer Mother” of old? Taking flight from the darkest, longest night of the year, it was she who brought the life-giving light of the sun back to the land, in her horns.
To learn more about the Deer Mother and Winter Solstice lore, visit Gather Victoria. image: Elen of the Ways by Chesca Potter  If you are really practicing seriously, you can maintain communication with the teacher no matter what the situation is; because when you enter the practice and become a good practitioner, the teacher is found within you.
The teacher is not only an external phenomenon. He or she can manifest through your own clarity. We must have a clear understanding of this. The reality of our actual situation is not that everything is just external to us. Chögyal Namkhai Norbu Starting the Evolution  FOLLOW THROUGH. Following an idea, direction, decision or action all the way through to its end requires total commitment. Without commitment, nothing an be completed. Ideas remain fantasies swirling in your head and projects let undone remind us of our failures. Commitment is a force, an energy, that can be increased or diminished. How do you increase the force of your commitment? How do you, intentionally or unconsciously, drain the force of your commitment? —Antero Alli  Artist Brad Kunkle lives and works in New York where he paints these extraordinary, dreamlike scenes of women swathed and shrouded in layers of leaves. The leaves often form the backdrop of his images functioning as water, wind, blankets, earth or perhaps all of the above.
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Yana's BlogWelcome to my blog! Here you will will find posts on consciousness expansion, folklore, poetry, articles on women's healing practices, Eastern thought and other topics. I hope you enjoy these offerings as much as I have had collecting them. Archives
December 2024
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