Magic Animals
A Tale (and an Invitation)
Dear Fellow Dreamer,
Each time I tried to write you something else, this story kept returning. Is it your story, too?
On an ancient road, the beast behind me padded, claws and breath in a scuffling rhythm with my steps. I couldn’t look back. My body in an old tryst with survival, knowing farm dogs could be vicious—and oh-my-God-after-all-this, to be attacked on the path to the hill fort that had drawn me across an ocean. The dog, a large lumbering Alsatian. The core of me, more knots than guts.
At the gate to the mound site, we paused. I exhaled and went through. Only once, when I was halfway up the hill, did I turn. The animal had gone.
It took me a couple more walks along the nettle-edged road to Navan Fort, the seat of Ulster’s mythic queens, kings, knights, and magic animals, to realize the only way I could get there was to let myself be shadowed by that shepherd I couldn’t face.
Maureen, my host at the Fairylands B & B, shuddered over the morning fry and toast. “I saw it stickin’ behind you. That great Alsatian. Were ye no terrified?” What could I say? Yes, terrified. Though rightly or wrongly, part of me had already answered the question I’d been asking myself for days. Why was the dog following me? No doubt he was guarding his own people, home, and fields. But maybe somehow (was it possible?) might he be protecting me, too? A lofty thought, I told myself. Yet believing it raised me up an inch, and my arms swung a little more easily at the sounds of his approach. The steady panting and lope.
The Alsatian, or German Shepherd, as the breed is more commonly known in North America, has also been called “Wolf Dog.” And while that label is a misnomer, one might argue nonetheless, it’s one of the closest canine relatives to the wolf left in Ireland—the last documented Canis lupus on that island having been slaughtered in 1786. A full century after wolves were wiped out in Scotland. And three hundred years after the species had been tracked, trapped, and hunted to extinction in England. A few of the countless examples of how our own species can succumb to fearing and judging what we don’t understand. Striking it down.
In my drum journeys now, over twenty years later, I am accompanied by a large black wolf.
Looking back, I recognize that the walks I was taking long ago to Navan Fort—a “fairy mound” and “thin place,” and a significant setting in my first novel—were somewhat like shamanic journeys, in so far as the excursions often brought me into non-ordinary reality. I wouldn’t have used that term in those days, though I did use the word “vision.” Sitting under a giant ash tree, one of the many majestic old timbers encircling the hill, in the long July twilight, I saw the ending of that book. It came to me as drum visions do, in images and thoughts “outside of time,” followed by goosebumps I’ve learned to trust. Just as I learned to trust that great unbounded dog. His coat, mostly black, like the wolves I’d dreamed of as a child, thinking them monsters, bawling myself awake. But in those dreams, hadn’t they been trying to speak with me? Were they guardians, too? This animal spirit, shadowing me since birth.
On my last return from the mound, the Alsatian met me on the road and walked behind me the whole way back to the guest house, where finally, I turned around. And I gazed at that shepherd with his midnight face and nose, pink tongue, and sable coat. Nodding to him, the only knot was in my throat.
Do you have a memory of an animal encounter that felt like magic to you? Please share your thoughts. I’d love to know.
An Invitation
Writing moves us between worlds. Good stories are portals to interconnection and wholeness. Being in creative flow with aligned, supportive souls can be both expansive and restorative.
Join me in a warm, safe space for creative inspiration and discovery, uninterrupted time to write, and a journey to the imaginal realm that is your birthright. Welcome the joy of writing in community, where we can concentrate and experience the dynamic energy of the group.
This spring, in a series called Magic Animals, I’m offering three online writing gatherings. The sessions will take place via Zoom on three Sundays: March 22nd, April 26th, and May 31st, from 1 – 4:00 p.m. Eastern.
Our emphasis will be on exploring story through guided drum journeying, with spacious silent time for writing, followed by (optional) group sharing.
In our writing gatherings, the focus will be experiential. In other words, these won’t be sessions about performance (arriving at a product) or craft. Those things have their place. But above all, as a writer and teacher, what I seek to facilitate are conditions for inspiration and deeper meaning-making. Catalysts for compelling journeys. You may find yourself doing your most powerful writing after our gathering has ended.
The ideas sparked and developed during our time together may be expressed through any genre. Story fragments may arrive unexpectedly. Others may come in response to seeking solutions for a current work in progress.
In our troubled human world, more than ever, we need good stories. Ones that offer us passage to greater awareness and empathy, life’s mysteries, and the wonder of what’s possible.
Registration Details
The investment for each session is $30.
Consider becoming an Annual paid subscriber to Awakening Wonder with a full-year investment of $80 CAD and receive all three sessions for no additional fee as well as:
· A 60-minute private consultation with me to focus on the area of your creativity where you would MOST love greater clarity and support
· A free pass to other Awakening Wonder live events
· And more…
As a multi-genre, traditionally published author and working writer, as well as a longtime teacher and coach, I offer a unique skill set. If this invitation resonates, I hope you’ll join me.
To purchase an Annual paid subscription and enjoy all the benefits, including the upcoming Magic Animals writing series, go here:
To enroll in the March 22nd gathering, visit the event registration page. If you click the button below, you’ll need to use your browser’s back arrow to return to this post:
Do you know others who may be interested in this series? If so, please share.
As always, thank you for being here.
Robin
Beautiful journey, Robin. Facing the shadow gave you the story ending that had been eluding you.
During the pandemic, my animal was Hawk. He would come and sit in the river birch right outside my kitchen window, and stayed close. I saw him as friend, checking in on me. Hasn't been back in awhile--I kind of miss him.
What a beautifully told and deeply magical story, Robin. I can see why this experience has stayed with you. Although I don’t live in a particularly wild place (a small historic town on the coast north of Boston), I have fairly frequent encounters with the more that human. This is partly due to the fact that I am outside pretty much every day, so I am where the creatures are. 😉 You already know about my recent fix encounter, and my near-daily interactions with the local crows. I also often have close meetings with various hawks, and also pay attention when I am visited by butterflies, moths, ladybugs, spiders, praying mantises, and others of the six-legged persuasion. My beau, who spends most mornings walking in the nearby state park, has almost daily encounters with deer, and less frequent ones with owls and coyotes. The animals really are all around us, we just have to slow down and pay attention enough to notice them. 💜