Meditation: Visiting the Red God, Qayin
You awake in a broad, newly plowed field just before sunrise.
The world to the West is still dark, murky and sleepy-looking, while to your
East a fiery sun is beginning to rise on the pale lanscape. The chill of an
early spring morning clings to you. The soil beneath you is rich and dark,
marked in deep furrows from the plow. The fertile, damp smell of the land fills
your nose as you breathe deeply and begin walking toward the East, toward the
growing light.
A fence with a gate is ahead of you across the field, and you
can hear the lowing of cattle now. As you get closer, you can see the shapes of
the cows becoming clearer. You open the gate and cross into the grassy pasture
where the cows graze and move lazily. They watch you intermittently as you
continue across their field. One of the cattle watches you intensely, but it is
no cow. This bull shifts his weight impatiently while keeping his gaze fixed on
you. You continue your path across the field, hurrying as the sun continues to
rise, and light and heat start perking up the countryside.
A hedge of dense, knotted Hawthorn trees spreads along the
next fence, and you spot the gate in its midst. You cross through the old farm
gate as you take notice of the trees. Their bright white blooms and long thorns
both welcome and warn.
In the glinting light of the sunrise, you see bees bobbing
and buzzing along the Hawthorns. You watch them dance as they work. One lands
lightly on your hand, and you know that it has no intention of stinging you.
Raising your hand to eye level, you look at the tiny creature for a moment. Its
feet tickle your hand, making your skin twitch, and it flies away to the East,
where you lose sight of it in the now bright sunrise.
Looking along the landscape in the direction that the bee
flew, you see a mound of earth. As you focus your attention on it, you’re
certain you hear a clinking sound, as well. Curious, you continue your eastward
path until you find yourself standing in front of a small hill with a stony
cave door. Strange markings have been carved and painted onto the stones around
the mouth of the cave and you take a moment to look at them.
You’re certain now that the sounds you heard came from within
the cave, and you can see the glow of firelight coming from deep within. The
wet, mustiness of the cave’s scent is mixed with the smell of burning coals,
here.
The cave path is smooth and descends slightly as it curves
naturally to the left. The sounds have grown distinctly louder since you first
heard them. No longer a vague clinking, you now hear the rhythmic beating of
metal against metal – tap, tap, bang; tap, tap, bang. The cave is both hot and
bright here, and as you round the last corner, you see a large chamber filled
with both the glinting metal of finished projects and the carbon-blackened
metal of work waiting to be done. Plowshares and picthforks lean against one
wall, accompanied by spears and swords. In a far corner, you see the glint of
gold and silver wrought into fine filigrees and tooled with delicate markings.
You also see pieces of unshaped, untouched metal, dull but full of potential
A fire in a ringed enclosure dominates the middle of the
room, and a large man is silhouetted by its flame. His skin looks burnished
from the heat and soot, and you watch as his powerful form easily handles the
bellows, the large hammer upon the massive anvil.
His eyes glint as he sees you, and he holds you in a piercing
stare, though he doesn’t stop his movement and work. Tap, tap, bang; tap, tap,
bang. You notice the metal in his hands and you recognize what he is making. He
places the object back into the forge fire, allowing it to regain a red-hot
glow before removing it again. Tap, tap,
bang.
Still working, he speaks to you. “The forge of the Witch
Father holds much magic and mystery. This is a place of transformation, of
alchemy, of great power.”
He beckons you toward him and places your hand upon the
anvil. It is very hot, but it doesn’t burn you. Holding your hand upon the
anvil with his own, he looks into your eyes and speaks a message only for you.
You thank him, and after a moment more of looking at you, he
resumes his work. Knowing that the time has come to leave, you turn and walk
back up the cave path, curving on a right-hand path now toward the fresh air
and daylight.
You pass again by the bees, busy in the Hawthorns, and by the
cattle in their pasture. Returning to the plowed field, you take a moment
before sitting down in the rich soil. You close your eyes and breathe deeply,
coming back to yourself.
