Mimir's Well

It’s a return to a forest and the enchantment it brings. It ties some paths and steps together, the maps of time will tell in the end, which path we actually took. I came here years ago when it all began, my new life, the 2 buzzards hovering above me, shrieking their cry of guidance. Intertwining with certain events, certain messengers.

Everything was one great adventure. Still. Places of power. Star wisdom. Soul mate meetings. Moon magic. Merging with Earth's magic. A life left behind, a new invoked, called for, rituals on a Field, answers given, cryptically interpreted, manifesting nevertheless, opening a Pandora’s Box of endless soul hurt to be cleansed and healed. The incentive; freedom, lOve, the truest kind, the LOver, the marriage, learning along the way that the cure is worse than the disease, but once gone it’s gone forever, and freedom is won. Life with the Twin. Nothing but a mirror. Oh, we don’t marry for love, we commit for lOve, two very very different things. The door to lOve is found at the end of very narrow doorways, that the ego has built in its labyrinths of disillusion and trickery. But what space lies behinf that door; a vast eternal wave of possibility of bliss and jOy.

I gave my Heart in a portal to the Blue Angel to have this. I walked into a Fire. I promised to burn forever in the name of TRUTH. I took the road of the initiated. ‘…By the way, on that path there is nothing to hold onto.. But your prayers might help!’

Ah, journeys. Mountains. Caves. Fires. Moments, minutes perhaps, of rest. Glimpses of jOy. Passion burning so bright it makes you instantly forget the hardships, and lOve so thick and flowing it washes away any memory of pain and hurt in a heartbeat. And you continue. On. As it should be. As is.


We buy water from the local supermarket in the small town, we didn’t intend to go to, but somehow ended up in. Such is the beauty of getting lost. By closer inspection the water bottles are called ‘Mimir’s well’. Mimir lived by the roots of Yggdrasil, and according to the tales Odin came here and offered his one eye for the gift of insight. IN sight.

We find the vulvic tomb in the entrance to the forest. It’s there as a perfect doorway to this walk today. This special day. The Rocks aligning with invisible forces and silent whispers from countless rituals echo their power to rebirth as we walk through. Initiation. Each shedding what must be left behind. Birthday.

The ferns are magically uncoiling their spiritual powers to further enchant this experience of new life coming. Their sacred geometry a small miracle in itself, but interwoven in their green strings are musical tales of good fortune and myths that add to the gratitude of this special time as they are caught in the middle of unfolding their contributions to this symphony.

We talk for hours sitting on the forest floor, taking in the peace. Seeing our lives clearly, now there are no energetic distractions.

Time on the Rock that looks like a hand reaching out, extending an invitation to enter, to come and sit. To come and be lifted out of this world and into another. It starts the minute I close my eyes. The centripetal and the centrifugal that takes off at the same time. Lifting me back to moments of creating unhealthy energy, that still lingers in this world as a negative thought form clinging to other negative thought forms, building, manifesting. Dissolving it before it makes more damage. Binds more people. Then sending healing ahead of time to things to come. I see them out there, the possibility of outcome. If…

The moment passes. She has taken me in. Weddings are performed here. Other sacred rituals too. Rites of passage. Vision quests.

As I lie in my bed at night, I see them. The spirits I have invoked in this strange new place of power.

‘You are far from done here. You must come back’, they say as they leave through the walls.

I go to sleep knowing there is a new adventure calling to me. New journeys and a mountain to climb yet again, but with a new awareness and more things to be shed. I smile through an exhaustion as I realize, life is cyclical, it never lets up. There is no time to rest for the eternal traveler, the moment the journey is over, life is over.

‘I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.’