Tiwaz; Dance of the Wolf Shaman

Painting by Susan Seddon Boulet

I step through the Door and into the Otherworld.  I look down at my feet. I am barefoot and the ground beneath my feet is covered in snow.  I am wearing animal pelts, furs secured with strips of rough leather.  They are soft and warm and despite the snow upon the ground, I do not feel the cold. 

I look around me and discover that I am in an old-growth forest of conifers.  The sky overhead is black, but filled with bright stars.  As my eyes adjust to the darkness, the path before me is just visible enough to follow, the starlight reflecting off the snow that covers the ground.

I step forward and begin to follow the path through the forest.  It is dark and quiet and as I walk along I begin to feel as though I am being watched, not followed so much as accompanied by an unseen companion.  It is then that I notice the light ahead.  I continue on, eager to discover the source of the light.

I come to a clearing in the trees and find a large fire blazing at its center.  I pause for a moment at the place where the path meets the clearing and watch.  The fire is very large and burning bright and high, sparks rising from the top high into the night sky.  Then from the other side of the clearing, he appears dancing around the fire.  He is large and has long hair and a long beard and he is naked but for the pelt of a wolf.  He is dancing ecstatically around the fire, spinning and leaping and moving more like a wolf than a man. 

Then I notice the wolf pelt laid out upon a large rock next to me.  Instinct tells me that I am to put it on and dance with the shaman.  I do and find that my awkwardness fades and I move as if the wolf is dancing through me. As I dance, I can feel a sense of sacrifice. 

I feel the sacrifice that the shaman makes, going into the dark, cold night and dancing alone.  Sacrificing the comfort of community for the sake of his community.  Leaving the comforts of his warm, safe home and the pleasures of his bed and his lover, the joys of tucking his children in, to dance this night with the wolf in the forest.

I leave the pelt I have been given upon the rock on which I found it and return the way I came.

My Pwca always lays with me when I travel and this journey was no different until just before I opened the door.  He suddenly attacked my hand with teeth and claws and then removed himself to a chair instead.  As soon as I returned and closed the door behind me he returned to my side, as loving as always, and purred until he fell asleep.  The message I took from that is that he doesn’t like Wolves.  He will travel with me but not if I am going to visit the Wolf.