Dunbeg leads me to my room…

Tiny Froglet wakes up…

It’s time. I take a deep breath and place my hand on the handprint. The rock face beings to glow and this is what I see:

(http://tinyfroglet.wordpress.com/ for more)

Dunbeg and I arrive in Owl Creek Valley after dark.  Light spills from windows and doors into the night.  I hear laughter as old friends greet each other.  Feeling both tired and shy, I decide to sleep as soon as possible.  The first cottage I come to emanates a great warmth and smells like baking bread.  The sign on the door: “Antique Seeds.”  I hesitate.  Does one sleep in a seed shop?  It seems odd, but I’m too exhausted to survey the town first and choose a more suitable spot.

(for more, go to http://tinyfroglet.wordpress.com/2006/12/04/day-four-home-host/)

Visit http://tinyfroglet.wordpress.com/ for the story behind the picture!

I met my mule the day before my birthday in September 2006. We had flown to Ireland for the wedding of friends, but also to explore the Green Isle for its own sake. On a cold, rainy Thursday, our last day on the Dingle peninsula, we were determined to explore the hills and ruins before our return trip north.

At Dunbeg Promontory Fort, we sloshed out to the ticket booth. Across the path, these three mules huddled together. The piebald one in front winked at me.

Although the ancient Iron Age ruin, slowly falling off the cliff into the ocean, filled me with awe, my strongest memory of that location was the determined, resigned mules, soaking wet, clouding the air with their hot breath, waiting patiently for the situation to change.

Over two months later, I find myself not in Ireland, but in another strange, new land: Lemuria. After stepping through a portal disguised as a froglet-covered door, I stood astounded for several moments in a near-empty room. Rushing outside, I tried to take control of my fear. I collared kind strangers, begging answers for my frantic questions.

Where am I?

What should I be doing?

Why am I here?

The answers were always “yes.”

I retreated back to the empty meditation room and slept deeply, hoping that my awakening would bring me more knowledge.

Awakenings always do.

This morning, instead of asking questions, I find myself listening as others sing and talk to themselves. People move slowly, but they smile shyly at me and I feel a welcome tug in my chest. Apparently we’ve arrived for a journey together. People are packing bags, selecting mules, getting ready to travel to some sort of dangerous town with haunted mines.

As I walk up to where the remaining mules are hanging out, I immediately spot my piebald friend from the ruin. He is drier now and chewing hay contentedly. He doesn’t look surprised to see me.

“It’s you!” I say, pleased to see a familiar (if elongated) face.

He nods placidly.

“Do you have a name?”

He stops chewing and gazes at me expectantly. Right. Here we answer our own questions.

“I see. Dunbeg it is.” I swat his rump affectionately and he tries to look offended, but I can see from the gleam in his eye that we are officially off on the right hoof. Or is it the left?

I passed through the portal before I even knew there was a portal to pass through. Five nights ago I dreamed I stood outside a door, accompanied by my faery guide Annika (a

hummingbird faery, of course). Inside I saw a yoga/meditation room. Most fascinating of all, however, was the door itself….tiny froglets covered the entire frame! The dream stayed with me all this time, especially since I’ve kept a live journal called Tiny Froglet for a couple of years now. But I didn’t realize that this was my portal until I read that I was to write about my portal. On with the metamorphosis!