Remembering The Wild in us

Remembering The Wild in us

The Kitten and the Castle by Coral Sundfeld

I recognise a Souls Calling, when it arrives, turn your world upside down and it will taunt you to wake up, to pivot and pause until you listen to the beckoning of synchronicity. It was some time before I heeded the call - a broken toe, next my hands became spontaneously inflamed and did not allow me to continue to work.

The doctors had no diagnosis for my body symptoms and nor could identify a cause for the skin on my hands to swell up like sausages, causing the inconsolable blisters that appeared, it was my fault somehow - there was fire in my body.

As the metaphysical in our life, loves to make a poetic statement – the cooling system in my car also over heated and my attempt at exercise resulted in a torn knee cartilage.

I had become spiritually unwell, living in the most blessed, sunniest state of Australia – Queensland.

I was needing to fill my cup, I was malnourished in spirit, and I felt inflamed, as if I had absorbed the entire sun and my wandering spirit craved the conditions of my genetics were, enrichment comes in many forms and I was deficient.

The Colonised West had made me unwell, my spirit craved sacredness and sacred lands.

I was driving home one day and I held a heavy unfamiliar feeling, I asked myself ..What is that feeling. the answer arrived immediately ‘I am sad’. It was a simple. ‘What shall I do’ I asked, the older, wiser me, all knowing replied. ‘Travel, far’. I agreed. And so I listened.

So, I left Australia, 1 week later, to fly to Scotland to visit a dear friend, without a plan.

Incredibly, everyone, in my orbit just knew and understood I what I needed, at that time.

On that plane journey, I sat next to a man, whom had given up his share of a tech business to follow his intuitive nudges, that told him, ‘Just go, do your own thing, your soul needs you to do this’

Soon I walked on the lands that called me, Scotland, Iceland, Slovenia..

There was medicine to be found in each place, encounters, serendipitous moments, everything that only a traveler would understand. In Iceland I found something familiar, Norse genetics, and volcanic landscapes, similar to New Zealand. In a place so far from my birth home, I felt a kin ship with the locals, they were elemental in themselves. In Scotland I felt I had walked over lands of my fore fathers and mothers.

In a final day of wandering led me to the Scottish Ancestry Building and outside I encountered Native American Indians, busking outside, as I approached I felt they were too familiar. Standing apart from the crowd, the lead dancer in full head dress, recognised I was having a moment and stopped his performance to approach me. It was the middle of Fringe Fesitival and the dancer asked, why was I here. I told him I had travelled from the Southern Hemisphere and was having a break from my work, that I had seen his performance, in Hammersmith London a decade ago. The dancer asked what did I do for work I told him ‘I’m a Body and Energy Worker’, next he asked to see my hand and then held them and stated in a pure bass ‘You have run out of energy .. no energy’

In a crowded Fringe Festival with hundreds of people gathered, for his performance, he gestured me toward a chair, next to a Christian Tent and in the full public view he sat and told me to place my hands on his shoulders, in order to receive.

Gesturing large hands to his own shoulders ‘Take it’ he said, ‘Take from me, I have plenty of energy’ and so I place my hands on his broad shoulders and I did, with another inquisitive Indian near-by.

In front of on lookers and with side glances from the neighboring tent it felt like a normal day in the business of synchronicity. I was humbled by the generosity of a man and recognition of a medicine man reognising the need of another.

We exchanged- a crystal from my wallet and he gave me a woven bracelet - We were kindred.

He advised me, to seek energy from the land and that I was to offer up the heat (energy from clients) back to the soil. It was the best advice, I had been given so far, from anyone.

Soon after, I ventured to the Isle of Skye with and then Iceland – feeling revived further more.

Iceland held me in wonder, I cooked bone broths for a week and within days of arriving my hands cleared. The energy was clear, I walked past Icelanders on the street and felt a connection.

The inhabitants, had connection to folk lore, legend and the Norse language, knowledge of history.

I pushed on, travelling closer to the equator to Croatia and I was introduced to the sun, I sought out waterfalls and ruins, only to encounter swaths of buses and tourists bathing their sunscreen in the pristine waters of nature. After which, they would bake in the sun, with bellies full of ice cream until the buses to take them to their next destination.

I savored truffle in castle ruins, I also felt tourism has lost its way and economy had won. We were lost.

I would seek out Slovenia, she was a beauty. She was intact, with promises that In her forests she held the reserves of wolves and bears, enough to replenish the rest of Europe, she was domesticated and yet she was still intact, still wild. To know her is to walk in her wondrous cathedral Cave sanctuaries, admire an adulating environment of green with black thatch houses and cottage farms, castles holding as much prominence in the landscape and beauty, as they do necessity.

I sampled cured meats from century old family farm houses, drank black wine and explored Caves with Cathedrals that would transport you to another world. In the faces of the residents were inherit expressions of those that came before them, etched stories of times long gone, stories of battles of love and loss. Slovenia, she was a beauty.

The castles of Slovenia captured imagination, beauty and purpose.

I stood at the bridge of the most intriguing castle, built into the face of a cliff, hidden and protected, a characteristic that would save the inhabitants, by evading the enemy passer- by. I imagine the immediate awareness of mortality that makes one feel alive for those times.

Looking on, we were now, merely spectators, to our own wild past, our spirits scattered to the wind and now roaming around seeking to reclaim it, distracted and disconnected to our pasts. I felt instinctively, that we weren’t participating in anything, we had become the entertained generation.

I was aware of how humans had become observers. We had lost our way.

The cord had been severed, between our spirit and ourselves and the land, and our ancestors, between our spirit and the creator herself. To rebuild the connection, this is what is needed to be healed.

I had neglected to source for myself, the medicine that was needed most, my connection.

At the moment, a kitten stretched out her neck, poised on a fence post, he captured my attention, his jaw stretched wide in a yawn. A small domestic tabby frame morphing into a mountain lion cat and becoming wild in his expression, his spirit still intact, he was the wild.

I romanced that this small framed village tabby descended from a lineage of cats, that served and courted the castle in times past. He had stories to tell, if we would listen.

I imagined that he had stories to tell, that he was able to access and meander the corridors of this ancient castle monument, at his leisure, as we watched from the bridge. I visualised that he was free to roam, and that he rubs against the pillars of history and communes with the ancients.

It was as if, he felt, what I saw. His yawn in protest to being a spectator.

In this moment we were kindred, cats were a bridge to the otherworld.

A domesticated village cat at the service of humans, and yet his spirit was intact.

He was crying out a silent roar, his tiny frame, animal spirit, ‘hear me, feel me, I am the wild’

To remember our wild is to remember ourselves.

We were a species with amnesia.

..Human’s had become enslaved by thought. The medicine, is to connect to land; delivered by a strangers, a Native Indian Dancer and a Village Cat

Our work is to reconnect and reclaim our past.

Remembering The Wild in us

The Kitten and the Castle by Coral Sundfeld

I recognise a Souls Calling, when it arrives, turn your world upside down and it will taunt you to wake up, to pivot and pause until you listen to the beckoning of synchronicity. It was some time before I heeded the call - a broken toe, next my hands became spontaneously inflamed and did not allow me to continue to work.

The doctors had no diagnosis for my body symptoms and nor could identify a cause for the skin on my hands to swell up like sausages, causing the inconsolable blisters that appeared, it was my fault somehow - there was fire in my body.

As the metaphysical in our life, loves to make a poetic statement – the cooling system in my car also over heated and my attempt at exercise resulted in a torn knee cartilage.

I had become spiritually unwell, living in the most blessed, sunniest state of Australia – Queensland.

I was needing to fill my cup, I was malnourished in spirit, and I felt inflamed, as if I had absorbed the entire sun and my wandering spirit craved the conditions of my genetics were, enrichment comes in many forms and I was deficient.

The Colonised West had made me unwell, my spirit craved sacredness and sacred lands.

I was driving home one day and I held a heavy unfamiliar feeling, I asked myself ..What is that feeling. the answer arrived immediately ‘I am sad’. It was a simple. ‘What shall I do’ I asked, the older, wiser me, all knowing replied. ‘Travel, far’. I agreed. And so I listened.

So, I left Australia, 1 week later, to fly to Scotland to visit a dear friend, without a plan.

Incredibly, everyone, in my orbit just knew and understood I what I needed, at that time.

On that plane journey, I sat next to a man, whom had given up his share of a tech business to follow his intuitive nudges, that told him, ‘Just go, do your own thing, your soul needs you to do this’

Soon I walked on the lands that called me, Scotland, Iceland, Slovenia..

There was medicine to be found in each place, encounters, serendipitous moments, everything that only a traveller would understand. In Iceland I found something familiar, Norse genetics, and volcanic landscapes, similar to New Zealand. In a place so far from my birth home, I felt a kin ship with the locals, they were elemental in themselves. In Scotland I felt I had walked over lands of my fore fathers and mothers.

In a final day of wandering in Edinburgh, I was lured to the Scottish Ancestry Building and outside I encountered Native American Indians, busking outside, as I approached I felt they were too familiar. Standing apart from the crowd, I was having a moment -the lead dancer in full head dress, recognised this and stopped his performance to approach me.

The Indian took the trouble to understand, why was I here. I told him I had travelled from the Southern Hemisphere and was having a break from my work, also that I seen his group perform a decade ago, in London and I had purchased 2 CD's.

The dancer asked what did I do for work I told him ‘I am Body and Energy Worker’, next he asked to for me to present my hands and then he held them with a long pause and eyes closed, really warming them; he stated in a pure bass :

‘You have run out of energy .. no energy’ simple, it seemed he was the only one that understood my situation, clearly, so far.

In a crowded Fringe Festival with hundreds of people gathered, awaiting a continuation of a performance, he gestured me toward a chair, next to a Christian Tent and I became unaware of passers by, he sat and told me to place my hands on his shoulders, in order to receive.

Gesturing large hands to his own shoulders ‘Take it’ he said, ‘Take from me, I have plenty of energy’ and so I place my hands on his broad shoulders, following his instructions, with another inquisitive Indian near-by.

In front of on lookers and with side glances from the neighbouring Christian Tent it felt like a normal day in the business of synchronicity. I was interacting with how energy works, through humans and humbled by the generosity of a man and recognition of a medicine man recognising the need of another.

We exchanged- a crystal from my wallet and he gave me a woven bracelet - an oddly natural experience for me. We were kindred.

The Indian advised me, to seek energy from the land on my travels and that I was to offer up the heat (energy from clients) back to the soil. It was the best advice, I had been given so far, from anyone.

Soon after, I ventured to the Isle of Skye with and then Iceland – feeling revived further more, cool weather was my medicine.

Iceland held me in wonder, I cooked bone broths for a week and within days of arriving my hands cleared. The energy was clear, I walked past Icelanders on the street and felt a strange connection.

The Icelanders, had connection to folk lore, legend and the Norse language, they each held a private knowing, that I had no observed before.

I pushed on, travelling closer to the equator to Croatia and I was reintroduced to the fire of the sun, I sought out waterfalls and ruins for relief, only to encounter swaths of buses and tourists. They bathed their sunscreen bodies in the pristine waters after which, they would bathe in the sun, waiting for the buses to take them to their next destination.

We were lost. Tourism has lost its way and economy had won.

I would next seek out Slovenia, she was intact, with promises that in her forests she held the reserves of wolves and bears, enough to replenish the rest of Europe. She promised the wild remained, the sacredness.

To know her is to walk in her wondrous cathedral Cave sanctuaries, admire an adulating environment of green with black thatch houses and cottage farms, castles holding as much prominence in the landscape and beauty, as they do necessity.

I sampled cured meats from century old family farm houses, drank black wine and explored Caves with Cathedrals that would transport you to another world. In the faces of the residents were inherit expressions of those that came before them, etched stories of times long gone, stories of battles of love and loss. Slovenia, she was a beauty.

The castles of Slovenia captured imagination, beauty and purpose.

I stood at the bridge of the most intriguing castle, built into the face of a cliff, hidden and protected, a characteristic that would save the inhabitants, by evading the enemy passer- by. I imagine the immediate awareness of mortality that makes one feel alive for those times.

Looking on, we were now, merely spectators, to our own wild past, our spirits scattered to the wind and now roaming around seeking to reclaim it, distracted and disconnected to our pasts. I felt instinctively, that we weren’t participating in anything, we had become the entertained generation.

I was aware of how humans had become observers. We had lost our way.

The cord had been severed, between our spirit and ourselves and the land, and our ancestors, between our spirit and the creator herself. To rebuild the connection, this is what is needed to be healed.

I had neglected to source for myself, the medicine that was needed most, my connection.

At the moment, a kitten stretched out her neck, poised on a fence post, he captured my attention, his jaw stretched wide in a yawn. A small domestic tabby frame morphing into a mountain lion cat and becoming wild in his expression, his spirit still intact, he was the wild.

I romanced that this small framed village tabby descended from a lineage of cats, that served and courted the castle in times past. He had stories to tell, if we would listen.

I imagined that he had stories to tell, that he was able to access and meander the corridors of this ancient castle monument, at his leisure, as we watched from the bridge. I visualised that he was free to roam, and that he rubs against the pillars of history and communes with the ancients.

It was as if, he felt, what I saw. His yawn in protest to being a spectator.

In this moment we were kindred, cats were a bridge to the other world.

A domesticated village cat at the service of humans, and yet his spirit was intact.

He was crying out a silent roar, his tiny frame, animal spirit, ‘hear me, feel me, I am the wild’

To remember our wild is to remember ourselves.

We were a species with amnesia.

..Human’s had become enslaved by thought. The medicine, is to connect to land; delivered by a strangers, a Native Indian Dancer and a Village Cat

Our work is to reconnect and reclaim our past.