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[Roni Jean]

About two years ago I posted about a tree I had found. I have a bit of an affinity for standing deadwood. I am fascinated by and adore such specimens might be more accurate. They are Inbetweens. Standing in the form they held as living things, but no longer living. They are the bones of old growth, and I love them. I found this one surrounded by chest high thistle, and I had to touch it. Stopped on the side of a dirt road, I walked through thorns more than half my height in sandals and a skirt to stand with this tree that had called to me. I don't remember if I went into detail about what I did other than tagging the tree.
What I found myself doing, standing near a crossroads surrounded by fields, communing with a dead tree, was to reach out to my most familiar places. The stars, the void, this world, and certain parts of the web which are held by Ellis. I asked my closest allies in those places to help me weave between them. A nexus woven through an inbetween by myself, my cohorts, and Miss Ellis.
Throughout the following year, I did a great deal of work with this tree, and our nexus. I continued to weave in new places that I found. I brought people to see and interact with the tree, the spaces around it, and the crossroads. I moved from friendly terms with Poppa Legbah to cohort after bringing one of his people to meet him at that crossroads. I walked the length of space between tree and crossroads myself, in the dead of night, weaving every form I could simultaneously control to prove myself worthy to the keepers of such places en mass. I learned to draw down the stars, I learned to reach through that nexus to the spaces it connected and shift things, and I learned how to carry enough of it with me that I might be able to access it from an island in the ocean, far from it's place near my home.
In the course of this time, I became concerned about what would happen when the physical form of the tree was no longer present. I wondered if it would matter if it was a natural occurrence or man made. I decided to account for this eventuality. I worked on the ties between the tree and the nexus, having decided that it would be best set a trigger for maintaining the stability of the nexus into the destruction of the physical tree. My intuition of this time, when it came, was that it would also trigger action, motion, a shift into a more serious and active phase of life.
Almost two months ago, we saw an intense wind storm come through Michigan. I found myself suddenly immersed in shadow work and catching up on every delayed aspect of my life. I was repairing my home, my mind, my spiritual neglect of self care, my relationships, my habits, my job - the whole of my life was getting combed through, and the excess was being pitched while the lacking demanded healing. Now, if you reference a certain ritual with an unfortunate rooster, you might see a certain pattern of behavior on my part. I have a tendency to periodically set myself up/kick my own ass in the name of spiritual and magickal progress or momentum.
Today was the first time since the windstorm that I have made my way to the tree, despite considering doing so several times. As a friend and I pulled up to the crossroads just south of the nexus, I was struck by an unfamiliar sight. To the East of the roadside ahead, there was no tree to be seen. Now, for a long while, I have carried within myself a mirror of the nexus I co-created that sunny day two springs ago. I had still felt the pull of it as we drove to that place, I had still felt the subtle shifts as we neared, but the tree itself no longer stood.
It had been hollow for so long that the land at the center of where it stood was rich black dirt. Filtered throughout that dirt were small, delicate, white shells. The took both spiraling form, like a snail would have, and the familiar half shell of every sandy beach I've explored. The tree lay in the ditch behind that space, with water flowing through what had been the lower half. We crawled out onto the tree, paying respects, giving thanks, saying hello and saying goodbye.
For a time, I was both called to the upper half of the fallen deadwood, and deterred from venturing there. Finally, I stepped from one half to the other, carefully testing my steps before putting weight to the movements. As I moved down the length of the deadwood, my friend exclaimed "look out" - and I abruptly stood while asking what she was seeing. I watched her point to a big black spider that had crawled out of the wood near where the upper and lower halves of the deadwood were closest. I could not see the red spot she saw on it, as it had decided to move away down into the grasses next to the deadwood, but this was her biggest reason for concern.
I decided to be more cautious about my exit, paying attention to the creatures sharing space, and asking politely if I had completed all I needed to do. I repeated the process when moving from the lower half back to the mound on which the tree had stood. I continued to be uncertain of the species of the spider, as the body and limbs seemed different than the widow my friend had been afraid the spider had been. I did continue to not the significance of its presence in that moment.
More curious yet was the second occurrence of a spider just a short while later. I went home directly from the site of the nexus, and proceeded to do yard work. There were still many limbs from the windstorm in my yard, and they had to move for the lawn to be mowed. At the end of this process, while unloading the last of the small sticks, I found a second thick legged, large black spider with red markings in the bottom of the wheelbarrow. The red markings were on the back, and the spider as a whole was of a similar structure to the one I glimpsed at the tree. It would seem that a less deadly spider was plenty to remind me of Ellis, for which I am glad.
It would also seem that my plan to stabilize the working went as planned, and I am very glad that I face enough of my shadow to take such an impact while remaining more than functional. I would, however, caution folks to be careful what you carry with you after a working.Thanks for listening, so to speak. It was a hell of a two year project.