Hello dear soul,
Welcome to this journey that is inspired by the Celtic myths and the wild wisdom of the other world.
We will walk with Gwynapneith,
The king of the fairy realm and the lord of the wild hunt.
He is a guardian of the threshold between life and death and he helps souls pass through times of great transformation.
In this journey you will be guided through the gates of Anu,
The Celtic otherworld.
This is not a place of punishment or fear,
It is a place of soul remembering,
A place where the old can be released and the true self reborn.
You may also meet the Kaliak,
The ancient crone goddess of winter and endings.
She may come as a witness,
A presence,
Or a quiet companion to your death and rebirth,
But this journey is yours and there is no right way to experience it.
This is for those in soul winter,
Those who feel frozen,
Numb,
Not themselves,
Those in grief,
In change,
Or simply in between.
Before we begin,
Take a moment to ground yourself,
Sit or lie down somewhere warm and safe.
You might want to have a blanket,
A crystal,
Or a candle nearby.
Let your breath soften,
Let the veils thin,
And when you are ready,
We begin.
Close your eyes,
Let the breath anchor you,
Not to the world around you,
But to the world within.
Inhale,
And exhale.
Like mist rising and falling,
Through ancient trees.
Allow your body to relax as you go within,
Letting go of the outer world,
Sinking further with each breath.
You begin to sense a shift,
The air thickens around you,
Softens,
Deepens.
You are no longer in the ordinary.
You are standing at the edge of a forest,
Veiled in twilight.
This is the threshold,
The veil between worlds.
You feel it in your bones,
This is a sacred ground.
The trees seem older here,
The wind carries whispers.
And in the distance,
A rhythmic sound.
Hoof beats.
And from this mist he emerges,
A dark horse with eyes like obsidian.
And on his back,
A rider cloaked in shadows and starlight.
This is Gwynepneith,
King of the fairy realm,
Lord of the wild hunt,
Guardian of the souls between worlds.
He says nothing,
But his presence is steady,
Grounding,
Safe.
He offers you his hand,
And when you place your hand in his,
You feel something shift within you,
As if the part of you that has felt dead,
Numb,
Frozen,
Is finally seen.
You climb onto the horse,
And together,
You ride.
Through the fog,
Through the hollow hills,
Through memory and shadow.
Each hoof beat,
Is a drumbeat in your soul.
Up ahead,
You see it,
A great stone archway carved into a hillside.
Twisted vines,
Silver in the mist,
Symbols you recognize,
But don't remember learning.
This is the gate of Arnoum,
The gateway to the Celtic otherworld.
Before the gate,
An old woman stands,
Clad in winter,
Hair like bone,
Skin like granite.
She is the Kaliak,
Crone of crumbling and rebirth.
She looks through you,
And though she does not speak aloud,
You hear her voice inside you.
What must die,
So that you may live?
What burden are you ready to lay down?
You feel the weight of your own soul.
Memories,
Grief,
Old stories.
Names,
Expectations,
Past identities.
You may speak them aloud now,
Or simply feel them rise in your body.
The Kaliak lifts her star,
She opens the gate.
A light wind brushes your skin as you step forward.
You are now entering the hollow hills,
The inner sanctum,
The place between death and rebirth.
Inside,
The land changes.
You are underground,
But it is not dark.
The walls shimmer with light.
Roots,
Bones and rivers of memory wind through the halls.
You walk slowly.
Soft moss underfoot.
You are being held.
A small fire burns in a stone circle.
You sit before it.
This is the fire of release.
You are now invited to surrender what no longer serves.
Imagine placing it in the flames.
A symbol,
An emotion,
A piece of memory.
A piece of your old self.
You are safe.
You are not broken.
You are shedding.
And as you sit by the fire,
A new presence arrives.
Not as a voice,
But as a feeling.
It is the part of you that is waiting to be born.
Not fully formed,
Just a flicker,
A warmth.
Let it be felt,
Even if faint.
The fire grows softer,
And you know it is time to return.
Gwynephneith is waiting.
You make your way back through the halls of memories.
Through the gates of Anuun.
To Gwynephneith.
You rise and climb back onto the horse.
You ride through the mists again.
But this time,
Something is different.
You feel lighter,
Not yet whole,
But becoming.
You return to your body slowly.
Slowly,
Back to this moment,
This breath,
This heartbeat.
Place your hand over your heart,
And whisper.
I have passed through the gate.
I have walked with death.
I return,
Not as who I was,
But as who I am becoming.
Take your time.
Drink water,
Journal if you feel cold,
Light a candle,
Or touch the earth.
You are changed,
Even if you can't see it yet.
Something has shifted,
And may you walk gently in your becoming.
