I sit with my nuclear coffee next to these beauties as I write this. I'm a bit unsure of what to say. So I'm saying what is real to me. What is real to me is her presence, voice, her love. Cow Elk. Nestling into the bones alter as close as I can get I'm asking her what SHE wants to be said about her bones.
'Round here, I hunt Elk in August. I'm blessed beyond blessed to be able to hunt on private lands that are sacred to me and my father's line. This last Elk hunt was filled with magic that has yet to cease unfolding. I hear her...the shattered bones...this story will be told in a “different” way. (giggling) I hear her say “not your typical hunting story please. Tell it from soul language”. Okay, so here it goes!
New moon ritual to offer and thank.
Connection was feminine for the first time.
I was not eaten or torn apart by the spirits of the Elk.
There was cradling, adornment, primping, and love by the cows.
Thoughts of no Elk for me crept in and now I laugh at myself.
How would I be successful if I don't bleed for them first?
This was always the way to be gifted an Elk. Right?
Feminine hunting. Woman warrior. Love and beauty.
Unsure and seriously confused, I went forward trusting. As the fool does.
Come hunting time wildfires blazed throughout the county.
Record heat and dry limited our paths. Fire hazard of tall grasses and hot exhausts.
I was told by my father to reschedule my hunt.
My soul said no.
“You will be taken care of” echoed throughout my being.
So, I rain-danced before we trekked across the state.
I prayed for safety and compassion for me, my hubby, my daughter.
As we drove East...the rains came. The locals were shocked. It wasn't in the forecast.
Hell, it wasn't even showing up as rain AS it rained.
The 3 day forecasted temperature dropped 13 degrees within 6 hours...the time it took to drive there.
3am, up and ready for a LONG day of...unknown.
Silence wreaked of doubt.
As we approached this sacred land just before dawn we saw Elk.
Made a play, with my hubby and daughter up the draw. Me at the mouth.
Thank you Red-tailed hawk for screeching at me until I sat below you...making my shot possible.
A mistake was made. A heart-breaking, doesn't-make-sense kind of mistake.
A mistake that made magic happen.
Two cow Elk gave themselves to us that morning. First day out. Before 6am.
Feminine hunting. Woman warrior. Love. Beauty.
Feminine hunting is as effective as masculine hunting, it's just done with more love...ease...and magic.
An elder cow's leg was shattered. Her spirit sticking around. Shocking me with her joy.
“Aren't they beautiful? My shattered bones! I'm free to dance now.”
Collecting shards with tears in my eyes and confusion in my heart...asking...listening...apologizing...
“oh, my beautiful shattered bones! Runes. Broken open into many pieces of wisdom and insight”
“I am free. Transformed. I will be the voice of these bones. Begin Solstice. Finish by Imbolc.”
“There is nothing to forgive. It's why I waited. Magic will be made because of what you call mistake.”
Into the freezer these beautiful bones slept. Nested among her meat.
Solstice. Return of the spark of light. I began again with her.
I heard I was to wait until the next full moon to unveil her bones back into the world.
And so I did. With ritual, and song I boiled those bones in a bath of wormwood, sage, and lavender.
She swirled and curved around her bones. So happy. So honest in her next purpose.
Becoming younger and younger.
Moving out of Elk and into essence. Goddess.
Full moon night.
Bones laid upon a set of Runes.
Mama Artemis guarding my space.
I showed my heart to these bones. Connecting. Giving. Trusting.
Each shard has a message. A knowing. Not runes as I know them. Something else.
She knows them. Every word. Every essence. They are her and she is them.
She is love. Loved. Loving.
A new way to divine is born in her shattered bones.
It has begun.
She will be ready to read within weeks.
Sorrow and soar.
And so it is.
Blessed be and be blessed my sweet tribe!