One dark night when fighting the ghouls I came upon a stag that was under attack. It was so covered in ghouls I could hardly make out its poor body; its horns were all tangled and deformed as the ghouls settled in there and bent them out of shape.
I ploughed in and cleared the horns and after about half an hour of fighting the stag stood up. It still wasn’t completely right but much better. It would complain of attacks on its kidneys and so I’d clear those only to find two or three ghouls in its throat.
I fought tooth and nail for over two hours, to where I was so exhausted I knew not what else to do, the attack upon it was so ferocious. So I called upon the magical animals to help me and a Being said, “Which animal do you want? I replied, “The Owl” as I know how well it can fight in tight situations. The Being said, “Here is the owl to help you, see the stag is getting better”, but I couldn’t see the owl and the stag was deteriorating all the while; the force of ghouls was immense and the life force drained from the stag in an alarming way. I even asked one of the other members that is very, very powerful to blow love to the stag.
Eventually I had to stand by and watch the animal succumb. It was a heart wrenching sadness. I cried buckets of tears uncontrollably. I didn’t know why I had lost it, why it had gone down. I loved it so. I’ve never lost a fight in the Aluna, even against the most powerful forces of evil, black magicians, torturers, every manner of disgusting, putrid iniquity, whatever evil that presented it self, I always won in the end. Losing the stag rattled me for days.
Then I spoke on the same Aya’ night to a member that had seen a dimension of children that had been sacrificed by black magicians, so she built a bridge of flowers for the children and she blew love on them over and over. But they never moved. They couldn’t escape the hold the black magicians had over them. She cried over it, being powerless to get them out.
We sat on a bench by a small grove of bamboo, it was the dead of night, a storm blew, and we talked about our two defeats, and in the end we decided the reason the stag died no matter what I did, and that the children remained trapped no matter what she did, is because even though we are capable and we love, we do not have ENOUGH love. It rocked us to the core.
The death of the stag impelled me to seek a new level. I blow love on the trees and the animals and the people, and at the dawn and at the rain and at the craggy mountains. I’m the hyperventilating soul blowing ever harder opening myself more and more, so I can love enough to save the next stag or whatever is in danger. I’m sure the other member I was chatting with that night is doing something similar.
Become more, love more, accept love from others, surrender to love, make it your mantra. Through love you become heaven and earth, and all things are possible. The death of the stag touched my soul very deeply, I’m working to improve my sense of worthlessness and to develop a sense of honor as a lack of that in me might also have contributed to the stag’s death. It was a big learning the night the stag died a learning granted from another world.
The member that I had earlier asked to blow on the stag, later that night at dawn saw the stag made whole again with red hearts on its neck and back. So its soul, its essence was made proper and good in the end. That was a great blessing to my fragile sentiments and to my tragic memories of its sacrifice.
© Stuart Wilde 2008