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White Raven: A Vision Quest
Article ID: 10560
Age Group: Adult
Days Up: 3,830
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Author: Lady Abigail [a WitchVox Sponsor]
Posted: March 5th. 2006
Times Viewed: 4,686
For generations, the understanding found in a vision quest has been extremely important to those who follow Native American teachings. Many believe this seeking was primarily performed by men, possibly because of the television's renditions of the medicine man. But, in truth, many women would seek understanding in visions as well. The practice, though not as prevalent, has never been abandoned. Shamans, and those seeking understanding, still continue the tradition today. The particulars of how others may seek within a vision may be different, depending on the religious backgrounds, but the ultimate goal is the same: greater understanding of one's self and the world we live in.
As a child, I learned that such journeys were not to be taken lightly. They were not done as entertainment, or just to see what might be on the other side. They are a voyage into one’s very soul. Not just a mirror of what is, but of what was and what will be.
To venture into such a place without true understanding would be like walking across glass in the dark, barefooted, blindfolded, and carrying scissors. It is just simply not a good idea.
When you walk within the spirit, you should walk in gentle respect, taking the smallest of steps so softly that no trace is left behind to show you were ever there.
White Raven is a vision quest writing. To simplify: A vision quest is a sacred rite of passage and a quest for vision, guidance, and renewal in nature. Within this quest or ritual, somewhat similar to a blending of meditation and prayer, one seeks answers and truths from the all. You see what manifests within reality and the outer worlds through the visionary world.
As I awaken within this dream of existence, I find that I am here walking through a time before time. I am covered in furs, my boots hard against the snowy blanket of Mother Earth. My hands are cold upon my staff which helps me along, as I climb higher toward the mountain’s edge.
I am walking a path I have known before through wintering woods. The wind moves gently and I can feel it cold across my face which is aged from the many years of life. The air is crisp. I can smell the sweet smoke drifting up from the fires burning in the valley camp.
I hear the breaking of the ice layered on the lake water. I see the deer foraging for food in the distant glen. They have no fear of me for they know that my time for hunting is long past, for I am an old man.
I hear a call from the four winds of Heaven. Calling my soul ever higher to a place in time I have never been. I must go on, for it is right and my time of passage.
I walk proudly and stand on the edge of time, looking off this sheer ending of earth into the canyon far below. I can see the river glistening in the morning’s bright sun as he rises over the crest of the blue mountain.
I now understand and have no fear; I plunge my staff into the virgin snow and step onto the edge. I am filled with pride, for my time within this place of life is complete, it is no longer who or what I shall be. I hold my arms up to the sky with praise to the All and I fall into the abyss of time.
I can feel the wind rushing past my body, as I draw my arms to me they become wings of black feathers. As my body falls ever closer to earth I begin to stretch out my wings and as I reach the river’s edge, I am no more.
I am the Black Raven soaring within the sky. I know my journey has not yet ended. I glide closer and closer to the ground for I must gather strength and power to accomplish my task. Upward I turn, flying; I feel my wings as they move, working to take me ever higher. I see Mother Earth below me as I glide between the worlds. I see the sun growing more brilliant. As I feel his warmth, I am near the moment of change.
With a crystal explosion of glittering sound my existence is transformed. The sun is no more before me. I see the loving glow of the full white Moon. I slowly begin to drift back toward earth. But I am no longer the Black Raven for I am now a White Raven.
I see the Earth growing larger before me. I fly over mountains and valleys and the river sparkling in the Moon’s brilliant glow. I begin to again place myself upon this edge of deep green earth. I am no longer a White Raven, but I am a woman filled with youth looking out over a canyon’s edge. I turn, and there where I had once, many lifetimes ago, plunged my staff into the snow stands a strong proud tree of Oak.
I hear birds singing; smell the pleasant aroma of the blooms from spring flowers and the dark rich earth. Everything about me is full of life; I feel the length of my long auburn hair in its tight curls as it blows across my face in ribbons of color. I see my long skirt of blue drag along the grass and hear its movement upon the ground. My bare feet are cool and teased by the grass.
I know this place and begin to walk back down the path through the woods toward the valley. A branch has fallen from the Oak tree; I, with awareness pick it up. It is my staff and I shall walk again into this life, new and yet still old.
My Great Grandmother was one of the Wise Women. She had been taught within the wisdoms of time, tradition, and family. I honor and give her thanks for teaching in the old ways.
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