Perhaps one of the most important things I’ve learned as a life-long spirit worker is the power of the transformation process and the importance of intent in the realization of one’s dreams. Together, they imbue one with resilience and the capacity for self-directed growth. This is a tale of loss and transformation.
My father was the superintendent of a large state park, and I enjoyed an idyllic childhood in the Carolina woods, developing a deep connection with the spirits of Nature. Following our marriage in 1994, my husband Eric and I began the search for rural property on which to build a home. We made a careful list of all the qualities our perfect piece of land would have, then spent weekends driving back roads within reasonable commuting distance from Eric’s job in town. We eventually found that dream land and, through a series of gifts and miracles, including a legacy from my dying mother, were able to purchase it. Upon closing on the property, I learned that my maternal grandfather had grown up just a little way up the creek from us! We courted the land spirits with offerings and songs and ceremony, asking to be shown how to be good stewards, and studied the weather patterns and drainage, the arcs of sun and moon, the game trails the deer followed.
Guided by the land, our first step was the building of a 12’ x 16’ building with a vaulted roof pierced by skylights and raised on posts on the edge of the bluff. Huge windows looked north over Town Fork Creek toward the Saura hills. My mother’s ashes blessed the four corners. Although the building was intended to eventually become my metalsmithing studio, initially we camped in it on weekends, sleeping on a futon and getting to know the land. Neither Eric nor I had experience doing construction, so we fumbled along with insulation and crude but adequate bead-board walls.
In time, I designed and supervised the building of our little Arts and Crafts cottage. I moved my jewelry making tools and equipment into the studio and went to work in the bright, rustic space. It made a good jewelry studio, with plenty of light, storage, and space for my bench, soldering table, buffing and finishing areas. I spent many years in that space making beautiful, magical things and loved what I did.
But in 2015, my life was turned upside down when I was diagnosed with advanced thyroid cancer. I underwent surgery and during a crisis afterwards almost died. That event carried me in a direction I could have never imagined. On the brink of death, in a classical shamanic ordeal, I was saved and remade by the Norse Goddess Freyja. In exchange for my life, She called me into Her service. As I slowly recovered, I entered into an intense apprenticeship, learning the shamanic and healing traditions of my Norse, Sami and Mongolian ancestors. I soon discovered that I no longer had the fine eye-hand coordination necessary for the making of fine jewelry, and what little energy I had was taken up by my apprenticeship and adjusting to how my brain had been changed. For many decades I had honed my metalsmithing skills and my whole identity was tied up in my sacred smithing. I grieved for this craft I loved so passionately and could no longer do. Freyja made it clear: I was to adapt and evolve. I completed my shamanic studies, underwent the traumas of initiation, and entered into my practice.
For several years my studio sat, sad and unused, until last year, when Eric and I concluded that the time had come to transform a space for making jewelry into a space for my shamanic work, a dedicated room for my altars and shrines, drums and gear, a place for me to teach and work with the clients who come to me for insight and healing. I prayed, made offerings and journeyed, asking my spirits to show me the space they wanted. We emptied out my jewelry equipment, took up the chipped vinyl tiles and stripped off the old paneling.
As I gradually sold off findings and gemstones and tools that I would no longer use, money became available for the transformation of the space. Drywall was hung, mudded, primed and painted. The door and windows finally received their trim, and a beautiful scraped oak floor went down. The noisy and inefficient old air conditioner was replaced by an energy-efficient mini-split unit that operates silently. With the help of my spirits, I somehow managed to retain the wonderfully joyful, creative energy that my jewelry work had generated while completely changing the focus and function of the building. I am convinced that being willing to grow and adapt and approaching the process with mindful intention has led to success.
What was once a rustic metalsmithing studio is now a light-filled space of peace honoring my allies, the landvaettir we honor here at TwoTrees, and the Gods I serve. The vaet or spirit of the space itself is happy and purposeful. The soft olive-gray walls are now adorned with shrines honoring the Holy Powers I work with, and comfortable furniture greets my clients. An English art deco oak dresser serves as my main altar, as well as offering storage for tools and supplies, and a jewel-bright rug from the hands of Kurdish weavers anchors this extraordinary space which is proving a wonderful asset and focus for my sacred work. I no longer grieve for the career I lost, but joyfully embrace the life I have been called to. On Sunday, beloved friends gathered here to offer prayers and blessings for my Treehouse, now a welcoming, safe space dedicated to peace and healing.
How can you experience this remarkable space? I offer spiritual counseling, divination and many other services, as described on my website.
You may also contact me at sravenswing@gmail.com or 336-591-8949.
