meeting the spirit of possibility
The second part of uberrod
's Hall of Sif was just as eye opening as the first. This time, we were to venture into her hall to treat with the spirits who serve her, in hopes that we might find a few to build useful, reciprocal relationships with.
With this goal in mind, we were asked to identify 5 things about any spirit we encountered, to relate to the scribe for posterity's sake. First, what name did the spirit prefer, and second, we were asked to describe its appearance. Next, we wished to know what offerings we should make to earn its favor, and then what it could or would assist us with in return. Finally, we were to try to divine a unique symbol for the spirit, to be incorporated into Run Valdr, the magical system imparted to Rod previously.
Thus, we began another guided meditation, this time after opening the portals and making our offerings. Three times, Rod called for the spirits who wished to work with us to come, and each time he called, my vision became more obscured by a mist. The more I tried to see through or around the mist, the more it seemed to swirl and coalesce before me. The harder I tried to concentrate, the more distracting it became, adding flashes of color to its repretoire. Just as I was about to give up, I heard a very feminine sigh from the mist itself.
I was a little startled, and I admit that the next part is rather hazy. I may relate some portions out of sequence, as time seemed to be of very little significance during our exchange.
I do not recall how the conversation started, only that I realized we were having one. I was at first too mesmerized by the beauty of the colors I had suddenly noticed swirling within the mist to take much notice of anything else. As the colors began to pulse, I noticed that the tones of her voice were soft, almost lilting, much like a child, but her words bespoke a wisdom far beyond any child I had encountered.
I asked if she was a spirit, and she responded that she was. Recalling the goals of our session, I asked for her name.
She laughed, then. The sort of short, knowing laugh the elderly reserve for children who ask silly questions. “I don’t have a name,” she replied. “If you name me, I become something and cease to be what I am.”
Puzzled, I asked again for her name. She sighed and this time when she replied, she sounded more like a teenage girl quickly losing patience with a parent. “I can not have a name, for I am what is possible.”
An abstract idea, to be certain, but I now understood. She is the spirit of what is possible.
The next few exchanges are a blur of activity, as she was exasperated enough with me that she stopped speaking, choosing instead to communicate with color. In response to a questions, the mist would swirl and condense into a colored ball before dispersing again. "Yes" condensed into a bright pink, somewhere between the color of Barbie stuff and magenta. "Maybe" condensed to a bright banana peel yellow. "No" was merely dark. We worked through the questions that we had been instructed to ask of the spirits and I discovered:
- She works with both Kinship, primarily as unborn or very young children, and with Prophecy, but she seems to resent working with Prophecy - whenever Prophecy speaks, she limits possibility.
- For offerings, she requested raw eggs, but rather than a shrine, she would prefer an empty corner.
- And she also gave to me a symbol - a diamond shape composed of equilateral triangles, with rounded corners and a dividing line across the center from left to right. Perched upon the dividing line is a half-circle, like a rising sun. The symbol should also be shiney.
- Finally, I asked what she could offer us. She advised she could help us find her. When I didn't understand, she again gave her impatient sigh. "When everything seems impossible, I can help you find me."
Alos interesting to note were the green flashes that the mist condensed into whenever someone else spoke to describe the appearance of another spirit. The feelings of envy were so strong, I could actually taste them. I took from this that the spirit of possibility was jealous. With sudden insight, it occurred to me that she had good reason - much like she could not be named without limiting herself, she could also not choose an appearance without limiting herself. I asked if this was the case, and she immediately flashed red.
As I was struggling with deciding whether to share all of this immediately, or to tell Rod in private, the mist flashed red again, and began to dissolve. It felt as if she had turned her back on me.
As a peace offering, I raised my hand and shared what I had found. As I finished and Liz walked away, I felt the mist surround me again, and this time, she felt content. I promised to clear a corner for her when I got home and felt her contentment settle over myself, too. Current Mood: contemplative