We are living in a dynamic, magical universe. There is nothing mundane about it. The separation between the realm of nature and the world of humans is only in our imagination, and in a sad state of imagination at that. From the time that we were young, most of us were aware of the reality of play and the existence of forms outside our perceived reality. Imaginary friends, fairies, animal companions; all were animate and real in our eyes. Through the influence of schooling and society, many of us have lost the thread of connection not only to the natural world, but to the magical part of ourselves. Many of us have little comprehension of our ancestral lineage, of where our people originate, how to listen to them, or of the actual reality of their life journeys. We do not factor in the landscapes that our ancient ancestors called home, and how in our current lives we may benefit from a pilgrimage to those lands, or to landscapes reminiscent of them. We have lost the innate knowing of how to recognize the patterns in the stars, and that the planets exist inside of us as well as outside, and that we have the capacity to influence their beings and that they surely have the capacity to influence ours. We have forgotten how to trace these patterns, how to honor those who have come before, how to carry on the lineages of wisdom that were always meant to come our way. Much has been obscured, and these factors have been the subject my deep contemplation and exploration.
In my travels around Southeast Asia, I have witnessed the practice of offerings firsthand as an integral part of daily life. In Thailand, Bali, and India specifically, I saw how people regularly gave offerings of flowers, rice, incense, fire, water, etc. to representations of the deities and spirit guides of the culture. We look at many traditional cultures across the earth and we see an evidence of offerings. For many of our ancestors, because of various reasons including leaving the ancestral homeland, this knowledge and practice has been forgotten. Offerings are the physical representation of a dialog with the spirit world; a proclamation that just because we can’t see the guides, ancestors or deities, it doesn’t mean they are not there. On the contrary, the more we engage in a practice of offerings, the more they know we are with them, and the more they manifest in a physical way in our lives. We start seeing them in things, knowing what they would enjoy having offered, and even actively look for ways we can engage with them more and more in daily life. This becomes a truly fun practice! It is like returning to the delightful presence of being a four year old child.
For years I have created flower mandalas and other art with plants as part of my creative practice. Through these creations I honor the first day of a changing season, or the special day of a deity that I work with, or an ancestor’s birthday at their gravesite. I have found this type of engagement with the beautiful fallen treasures of the earth both rewarding and a surefire path to being present in the moment. The depth and purpose that we have the potential to experience with these offerings increases over time. As I said above, when we engage with Spirit, Spirit engages with us. Additionally, when we begin to pay attention to the intricate patterns of the celestial bodies, and time our offerings with their natural energies, our offerings increase in potency and efficiency.
This practice, when engaged and activated, serves to connect me with the well of wisdom that is ready for me down the line with my ancestors. They are here to help, to guide, to be with us. Because we have largely lost the ability to pay attention to this, we must relearn how to listen and to respond and act in a way that shows our gratitude and reciprocation.
We can offer to anyone and anything. Our guides can be many. I know that my great grandmother on my dad’s dad’s side, Edna, was a painter and an artist, and that some of her wisdom and sight comes through my hands when I paint. Thus, every time that I paint, it is an offering to her and a bow to the wisdom that I receive from her. When I write, I am offering to my mom’s father, who always encouraged me to study and to get good grades. Part of why I engaged so deeply in my schoolwork, specifically my writing, was because of his support. My grandmother Norma, who’s birthday is the day I write this, always wore bright pinks and reds and was adorned impeccably. She was timely and elegant and exact. I can devote to her sense of beauty and balance when I adorn myself and take care of the details in a balanced way. Through some drum journey work, I have learned that my ancient Swedish ancestors were healers and were deeply connected with the earth and a form of healing blue light. They showed me that I can connect with them and offer my presence to them anytime that I place my palms on the earth and breathe deeply.
This is a very special and pivotal time in our evolution, and even the fact that this information is available and is being shared is indicative of the assistance from the Spirit world that is ready to support us. It seems that in many parts of the world, this inherent knowledge and connection with the world of Spirit has been suppressed for generations. It is my dedication to my own experience that I share my part of the story, even though there is a sense of vulnerability present in revealing something so near and dear. My hope is that it inspires your own devotional reconnection to offerings and to engagement with your own guides.
Along with our ancestors, we can make offerings to any number of guides we work with. Personally, I love to offer to the fairies, and often collect tiny flower offerings or make them tiny plates of food. If we are of menstruating capability, we can offer our blood to the earth each moon month so that the earth may remember the signature of our unique DNA. I also see this type of offering being an ode to the so called witches and medicine women in our lineage who may have been silenced and disempowered at various times. Our offerings can be a direct act of reclaiming what was taken or lost. We can offer to trees, to mountains. We can offer flowers to the ocean deities. We can make rainbow patterns out of stones of different colors, collecting them in the gravel or in a riverbed, and offer this art to the earth. We may offer a song to an angel, a flame to a deity, or food for a god on a day they are associated with. We may offer a salutation to the sun, or a goodnight song to the moon. The possibilities of engagement with the natural and Spirit world are endless in this way.
Through my studies of Jyotish, or Vedic Astrology, I am aligning with the more subtle aspects of the patterns of the planets and the fixed stars. As we tune into the transits of the planets, the different phases of the moon, and our dance within this great dance, we can aim our offerings to be in alignment with these natural patterns. If we have a particular transit or alignment moving through the landscape of our chart, we can create specific offerings to the planetary energies at play to ease the waves and to embody the gifts of the transit instead of the struggle. In this way, it is like a great remembering, that not only are our ancestors ready for connection, but so are we connected with the earth and the celestial forms in the sky. All are very real presences in our field, though some may not speak in our same language or be visible with the normal seeing eye.
This entire process will allow for a new way of seeing. It calls us to expand the way we are listening. Often if I am on a walk, I will begin noticing flowers and leaves that have already fallen from trees on the path before me. I collect them, and then often am called to make a pattern with them further down my walk. Sometimes a specific tree will reveal a little hole perfect for a flower I collected along the way. Sometimes in the process of listening I feel like I am a bridge, a walking beacon called to deliver communications between plants and stones and feathers and seeds, or between the flowers and my great grandmother’s grave on her birthday. I can listen to the guide within me that already knows. The one who is four years old playing in a fallen cedar tree and offering leaves to the fairies. The one who already knew how to paint before being taught.
Love,
Melissa