The third point was passion. Most important part of that was visualizing our perfect day. That was lovely and continuing to do so became homework, not just for that week, but for this week, too. Puzzling out meanings, laughing at my perfect day having no *job* in it, but now looking for what my life’s work is/should be separate from a paycheck job. Anyway ~ passion was such a relief from the self point. :P~

This past Sunday was pride. We did a group trance where we went down together, but kept a piece of our consciousness audibly verbal so we could communicate at the top level along with staying connected at the trance level. It requires greater awareness and control then just allowing yourself to to be taken down by a guide and then you can go play as deeply as you wish knowing the guide will draw you back up.

So, not as deep as other times, but with practice will become so.

We dropped down, and turned to each direction and spoke what we saw. It was quite interesting and fascinating how as each person described what they saw the scene became more complete. We spoke something we were proud of at that moment. Then we danced. Ha! We went to our "corners" and focused on whatever we were doing, but periodically spoke to each other and described not only what we were ding, but what we saw the others doing. Oh, I didn’t see the one so clearly,she seemed far away or slightly shrouded from my view. Uncertain what that means and it could simply be my lack of experience with this type of trance.

One was dancing, one was writing, and I was first dancing with a small fire on the beach in the South. Oh me of West and water, how very amusing. Then it became a big fire in an also big cauldron and instead of dancing I was pulling the flames – tips of fingers to tips of flames – moving and manipulating them, commanding them actually. The flames were no longer truly fire, but flames of my personal power and I was easily commanding them without fear.

At one point I felt an intense pulling sensation in the middle of my forehead*. I refocused on the whole scene in the South from the spectato’rs viewpoint and saw it was no longer me with the flames, but some unknown man and he was an obvious intrusion. I wasn’t there. He was. And he was doing what I can only describe as a "neener-neener" dance with my power – the bastard.. The pulling sensation continued in my forehead like something was trying to get out (I think it was me trying to get out) until I transformed that unwelcome man back into me. Then my dance continued, weaving and puling and playing with my flames.

Then it was time to go ~ we took in whatever we discovered/found/acquired down there to bring back up with us. We left a gift.

I took the whole cauldron and put it inside of me where my uterus used to be. It was as if it had been just waiting to be placed there so perfect was the fit. It felt like it had waited a damn long time, too.

Like any good trance it is the gift that keeps on giving as time allows you to absorb the transformation set in motion during it. I can use some words to talk around it, to sorta get my meaning across – like finally feeling a level of comfortable with what is an endless well of personal power, of feeling more "whole and complete", of weeping with joy – and yet – those words barely touch the changes begun. Truly, ineffable.

*This weird ass pulling was actual pressure from the inside and as if someone was tugging on the skin of my forehead from the outside. It honestly frightened me at first because it was so physical in feeling I thought is was physical. And just for fun, prior to going down in trance the Goddesses chosen to be called by our teacher – Hecate and Cerridwen. As my driving to work yesterday morning the chant song for both pops into my head and I start singing it. *tug tug* on my forehead. Not scary, not so hard and insistent as in trance, more a gentle "ha ha, guess who was doin’ that". I rub my forehead to clear the feeling, a bit shocked at it. Being me I immediately denounce it, call it coincidence, scowl, and stubbornly begin to sing again certain this figment will not recur.  *tug tug*

Dayum …

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