By all means, come in, come in! It's hard when your partner's sick in so many ways, emotional and practical. I'll make the hot chocolate--I make it quite dark, but there's cream and sugar to add to make it as sweet as you like it. Maybe one of the cats will even come in for cuddles, though they are a little cautious with people they don't know.
There's no snow left on the pavement, but a little still lies in puddles and drifts around the rose bushes, and you can look out the window at the garden while I heat the milk. There are little tracks in it, cat and racoon, maybe even a spindly possum paw-print.
After a while, you realize he is sitting out there too, cross-legged, but upside down, sitting "on" the ceiling of the covered part of the porch. At first, you thought he was an abandoned nest, all twigs and dry leaves and fibers, but then he winked at you.
Not all wise men are shamans, and not all shamans are wise, but the Sage is both, seeing into this world and the others. His message is always about wisdom, patience, and hidden knowledge. With him showing up reversed, he is warning that there is some kind of blockage or imbalance--knowledge that could be known but which has not been shared with the people who need it, or perhaps an inability or unwillingness to apply skills or knowledge learned in one setting to a different one, where it is needed now. He also sometimes appears when someone is so certain that they know the answers already that they are not looking for more information.
He invites you to go outside, to walk in the garden, which suddenly has a gate between the roses to a quiet, snow-filled woods. You cannot see the parked cars or the city street any more. "You're welcome to come visit my garden or not, freely," he says in a low, melodious voice. "A different perspective can clear the mind, and I promise to have you back before the chocolate is done."
If you go, the woods are peaceful and beautiful, and you can talk things out with the Sage, get some insight on what's blocking or confusing you, and where to look to discover the things that you don't know yet. And true to his word, you and he are back on the porch, safely back in the mortal world, when I come back from the kitchen with hot chocolate and cookies. He looks hopefully at the mugs, and I head back into the kitchen for another one.
The Sage, reversed
There's no snow left on the pavement, but a little still lies in puddles and drifts around the rose bushes, and you can look out the window at the garden while I heat the milk. There are little tracks in it, cat and racoon, maybe even a spindly possum paw-print.
After a while, you realize he is sitting out there too, cross-legged, but upside down, sitting "on" the ceiling of the covered part of the porch. At first, you thought he was an abandoned nest, all twigs and dry leaves and fibers, but then he winked at you.
Not all wise men are shamans, and not all shamans are wise, but the Sage is both, seeing into this world and the others. His message is always about wisdom, patience, and hidden knowledge. With him showing up reversed, he is warning that there is some kind of blockage or imbalance--knowledge that could be known but which has not been shared with the people who need it, or perhaps an inability or unwillingness to apply skills or knowledge learned in one setting to a different one, where it is needed now. He also sometimes appears when someone is so certain that they know the answers already that they are not looking for more information.
He invites you to go outside, to walk in the garden, which suddenly has a gate between the roses to a quiet, snow-filled woods. You cannot see the parked cars or the city street any more. "You're welcome to come visit my garden or not, freely," he says in a low, melodious voice. "A different perspective can clear the mind, and I promise to have you back before the chocolate is done."
If you go, the woods are peaceful and beautiful, and you can talk things out with the Sage, get some insight on what's blocking or confusing you, and where to look to discover the things that you don't know yet. And true to his word, you and he are back on the porch, safely back in the mortal world, when I come back from the kitchen with hot chocolate and cookies. He looks hopefully at the mugs, and I head back into the kitchen for another one.