The Aicme of Events – Written on My Mother’s Birhday
I was prompted to write this today by a posting that was made elsewhere. I offer it here as an echo of thoughts, words and deeds that have occurred all around us and within each of our hearts, minds and spirits. It is a jouney into cosmology through doorways of Ogham that reveal the principles and qualities of being.
Fear and love exist in the forest of all existence along with the other Ogham that compose the songs of being. Love follows wonder on the wheel while fear surrenders to its own death, yet becomes the spark of will in the next life. Rather than nothing or one thing, even two things, all of life is the many choices we've made, that are made and will be made by us, for us and in response to the actions of others.
Love banishes fear in the land of spirit, while resolve clears away confusion in the realm of the mind. It is in the world of form where objects do battle and structures are built to bring order to conflict. These three states of being each are a part of us to the point that we cannot expect one to rule completely over the others. We are the union of many qualities and possibilities. We are spirits inhabiting bodies through consciousness and choice.
Noble and fell deeds describe the results of the choices that are made. Parents have children and children grow to become parents. Some people have a choice in the matter while others are excluded. Some are heroes in these stories while others are villains. We who remain chant the stories that surround their decisions and actions. Every Ogham is a doorway while in groups they are described as plains and directions. In some forms they are a downward spiral that leads to the depths, forming the wellspring that flows upward to the surface again.
Others are spirals weaving around us, above us and beneath us, to stitch the fabric in which we are clothed in our many lives. In those lives, circles ripple outward and return to the center establishing the patterns we discern through interference and support. The boundaries of our centers shape the cauldrons. It is the well and the fire that is also the tree that builds the altar of existence. Let's use each and every fidh of the fedha to tell our tales and to score our songs as we chant the truth of creation. It is a ladder and a stream, a wheel and a window.
Not all of it is pretty and happy, nor is it only sadness and horror. It is everything and more. It is not just the moment or the eternity. It is not the gaps nor is it the pinnacles. It is beyond those horizons; wild horses running across the fields of the Sun; cattle moving like stars across the black void that are illuminated like the Moon. Being are made of earth, flowers, waters and trees even as they become animals and people chasing from one life to another. Let us revel in the wonders and the shape of wonder that deity brings to mortal and humans sings to the gods.
These are our songs and our stories. They are our dreams and our despair. They are the loves and the fears that move us. They are the truths and the falsehoods that define us. We are the memories of our memories and the minds of our minds, even as we are also the spirits of the river that is itself a spirit, a mind and even a great body of oceans. There are lands and skies within each island that comes over the horizon, in every door that opens and all instances wherein the spark brings a fire or a cauldron nourishes knowledge. It is all breath across the edge of a knife or the hand that carves the mountains.
It is the Aicme of Events.