Image result for long haired white blonde manAs I place my palm in the stone print, I ask clearly: show me a life where I was sure of myself in skill. Where no doubt ever entered my mind.

Within the archway appears a red door, the wood is hard & thick. A large, round, copper-coloured door handle lies still in the middle of the door. I place my hands now upon the door, and with a breath, push gently and step through.

As I step through, I am falling & twisting, to land in a crouch, firmly taking the impact into my feet and legs. As I stand up, the sense of bodily strength and virility is immediately present. I feel I am tall – maybe around 6 foot – and my back arches into the breeze, my hair whipping out behind me. In any other person this would seem a pose, but my energy almost seems to be too big for my body, and I imagine that I push beyond these fleshy bounds.

I am looking out from the edge of a large cliff – the yellow stone sheers off suddenly in front of me, and if I turn my eyes to both left and right, I will see the cliff extend out as far as I can see. Below, many, many hundreds of feet below, lie trees and other vegetation. I understand that my group & I have walked to these cliffs from a path behind me – we don’t venture down into the valley, not for dangers purpose, but because it is not why we are here.

I – Jenneth – move outside the body for a moment, looking at this man whose life I am re-living. His hair is so blonde as to be white, the very long strands waving out behind him in the strong breeze. His eyes are intense and sky coloured, He is young – no more than his mid-20s. Around him, other young people stand, most a little younger, but all adults.

I shift back into his body – his energy – and think ‘What skill do you have mastery of?’ and his reply appears in my mind: the wind.

I feel him pulling his arms out from his side, long pieces of leather, shaped like wings, and tied to his arm and wrists. There is a wooden (?) frame down the centre of his back which the wings are tied onto.

And then he flings himself – leaps – off the cliff edge into the wind!

I feel my/our body twist in the air, and then he snaps his ‘wings’ out and catches an uptake in the current. It is glorious! The possibility of death doesn’t even enter his mind – his is one with the wind, and he rides it like an ocean ave.

I understand: this ability to feel the air current around him – to be a Wind Rider – is his specialty, and he lives it. Breathes it. Owns it. He does not question his skills, nor his right to be riding these winds, He is beyond such doubts. I feel our heart beat stronger when we are aloft in the winds, the excitement like tingles rushing through us.

I/we are the White Raven.

Then I am back with the group, and we are walking home, the cliffs becoming more distant in our shadow. And I feel an ache within us to be leaving – it is home to be upon the wind. And it is like leaving a beloved friend to be going. It is always this way.

The scene shifts, and I am under a large, full moon. I am dancing, leaping, twisting & weaving under its glow. The moon is special to me – I do not know if it is the same for all my people, but it tugs at me, gently calling me into its energy. This is different to flying upon the wind – this is less controlled & I abandon myself to my dancing, my hair whipping around my face & my body.

Long into the night I will dance, and I imagine that sometimes, when I leap, I am suspended in the air for a little bit longer each time. I imagine that I am rising up to meet the moon, reaching for something just beyond my grasp.

 

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You can read about my other past lives: the Stag King, the Map Scholar, the Atlantis priestess, the ocean Symbol Maker, the desert Vessel, and other lives here.

Past Life – The White Raven
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