I enjoyed listening to this sat out at sea, or rather bobbing along held up by Celtic Sea, a sitting out of sorts under the myriad stars, and the rising sun, with dolphins, Manx Shearwater, great gannets keeping company. The blown up corpse of a seal floatint past too. A reminder that death is always present in the midst of life.
Your conversation touched on some of my experiences with Utiseta. I am lucky to have many bronze age burial mounds to work with, and the one I have cultivated a strong connection with is where I have practiced my 12 hour Utiseta. I think it's important to say that Utiseta does not have to be a grand four day and four night sit. It can a overnight sit, a daytime sit, a sit for a specified period. The most important thing as you mentioned is preparation, along with setting your intention. Get to know the land first where you hope to sit. Definitely ask it's permission, and do make offerings. This work has to be about exchange. The root problem of our Western patriarchal culture is that of taking from nature, taking from others. Through this practice we are relearning to listen to nature, really listen.
Yes, this practice will call forth our fears. I'm am interested to know if men who sit out experience the fear of being overpowered by another man. The wild man from the woods.
This was my great fear, the one women have carried daily for millennia. It was powerful to sit with that fear overnight on a burial mound. However, through doing the preparatory work I was held by the spirit of the mound and the spirit of a great oak tree and a skeleton tree nearby. I did not feel a need to create protective bind runes as the land itself was enough..the exchange held in the songs I sang out with my staff. I felt the rage of women and the rage of the land against the centuries of patriarchal oppression.
Strangely, or not, my great fear of the wild man did come to pass just last year as I was in ceremony in an orchard on the edge of another great ceremonial site, Whitehawk Encampment, older than Stonehenge. We three women and a child, in a fire ceremony in a place that has held this world for a decade. This wild man ran out from the bushes in the dark, shouting and swearing at us, drunk as a skunk. I froze in my fear, found myself making myself small in order to disappear, the tactic I learned as a child. Thankfully my friend called in her Freya spirit, her Innana spirit, her Kali spirit and he eventually calmed down and disappeared from whence he came.
Yes, this is my great fear. Emblemic of the state of our world today. The work of Utiseta and Seidr has never been so important.
Thank you Serena, for this response and deepening. I agree with you that one piece that I would have liked to hold up more clearly is the accordion like nature of the Utiseta. It does not have to be an extended sit, as we might find in the vigils of other traditions but instead can be practiced with different time lengths. I love how you put it, "The root problem of our Western patriarchal culture is that of taking from nature, taking from others." This is so clearly a main thread in much of the work getting people back into nature. It becomes about nature as a background or resource mine for the experience instead of a powerful other to be encountered. The offerings, permission, and listening are all key etiquettes in the shift I think.
What potent story you weave about your own Utiseta as the rage of the land, and the rage of women who are held down by the oppressive fear born through patriarchal violence. Thank you.
Speaking to your wondering on the fear, from my own experience I can share that I have been shaken to the core by fear of being attacked by other men, or the wild man of the woods while out alone. I am remembering particularly in the final hours of my four day Vigil, where deep in the night the voices of a group of men passed by camp down in the arroyo canyon below me. Their flashlight beams shot around, and their voices were booming echoing through the desert. I instantly froze, stopped my rattle and prayer and could not move for fear that they might hear me and come. I sat silently for hours after that unable to get my courage back.
Interesting how this fear of the other, and particularly the masculine other is so strong. It does seem to be an emblem of the state of things.
Thanks for sharing your experience about the fear of the masculine, of potential attack by other men. I sometimes forget that men also fear other men, and can feel just as vulnerable.
I enjoyed listening to this sat out at sea, or rather bobbing along held up by Celtic Sea, a sitting out of sorts under the myriad stars, and the rising sun, with dolphins, Manx Shearwater, great gannets keeping company. The blown up corpse of a seal floatint past too. A reminder that death is always present in the midst of life.
Your conversation touched on some of my experiences with Utiseta. I am lucky to have many bronze age burial mounds to work with, and the one I have cultivated a strong connection with is where I have practiced my 12 hour Utiseta. I think it's important to say that Utiseta does not have to be a grand four day and four night sit. It can a overnight sit, a daytime sit, a sit for a specified period. The most important thing as you mentioned is preparation, along with setting your intention. Get to know the land first where you hope to sit. Definitely ask it's permission, and do make offerings. This work has to be about exchange. The root problem of our Western patriarchal culture is that of taking from nature, taking from others. Through this practice we are relearning to listen to nature, really listen.
Yes, this practice will call forth our fears. I'm am interested to know if men who sit out experience the fear of being overpowered by another man. The wild man from the woods.
This was my great fear, the one women have carried daily for millennia. It was powerful to sit with that fear overnight on a burial mound. However, through doing the preparatory work I was held by the spirit of the mound and the spirit of a great oak tree and a skeleton tree nearby. I did not feel a need to create protective bind runes as the land itself was enough..the exchange held in the songs I sang out with my staff. I felt the rage of women and the rage of the land against the centuries of patriarchal oppression.
Strangely, or not, my great fear of the wild man did come to pass just last year as I was in ceremony in an orchard on the edge of another great ceremonial site, Whitehawk Encampment, older than Stonehenge. We three women and a child, in a fire ceremony in a place that has held this world for a decade. This wild man ran out from the bushes in the dark, shouting and swearing at us, drunk as a skunk. I froze in my fear, found myself making myself small in order to disappear, the tactic I learned as a child. Thankfully my friend called in her Freya spirit, her Innana spirit, her Kali spirit and he eventually calmed down and disappeared from whence he came.
Yes, this is my great fear. Emblemic of the state of our world today. The work of Utiseta and Seidr has never been so important.
Thank you Serena, for this response and deepening. I agree with you that one piece that I would have liked to hold up more clearly is the accordion like nature of the Utiseta. It does not have to be an extended sit, as we might find in the vigils of other traditions but instead can be practiced with different time lengths. I love how you put it, "The root problem of our Western patriarchal culture is that of taking from nature, taking from others." This is so clearly a main thread in much of the work getting people back into nature. It becomes about nature as a background or resource mine for the experience instead of a powerful other to be encountered. The offerings, permission, and listening are all key etiquettes in the shift I think.
What potent story you weave about your own Utiseta as the rage of the land, and the rage of women who are held down by the oppressive fear born through patriarchal violence. Thank you.
Speaking to your wondering on the fear, from my own experience I can share that I have been shaken to the core by fear of being attacked by other men, or the wild man of the woods while out alone. I am remembering particularly in the final hours of my four day Vigil, where deep in the night the voices of a group of men passed by camp down in the arroyo canyon below me. Their flashlight beams shot around, and their voices were booming echoing through the desert. I instantly froze, stopped my rattle and prayer and could not move for fear that they might hear me and come. I sat silently for hours after that unable to get my courage back.
Interesting how this fear of the other, and particularly the masculine other is so strong. It does seem to be an emblem of the state of things.
Thanks for sharing your experience about the fear of the masculine, of potential attack by other men. I sometimes forget that men also fear other men, and can feel just as vulnerable.