Gratitude Womb of Dark Moon

Gratitude for the blessing of this life, the gifts uncountable in their number and numinous darkness, as the moon falls into her black mood of reflection unseen by human eyes though felt; I feel her endarkenment as a sweet nectar in which I float within safe space — womb. Here is the origin of my life and I am entranced whenever I am returned to the unlit peace and seclusion, listening to muffled voice, thrumming to a heartbeat of “out there,” a vital force unseen, floating in a brew of life-giving nutrients as I lay curled within human mother and more-than-human mother. I could be the spiral of galaxies as easily as spongy-flesh of unformed creature.

Gratitude for reflective love, as every year since the new millennium began its turning is icing on a cake of life that touched the stars and sank into despair; those emotional tandem bicycles spinning wheels of possibility. For then, after finding myself in Gaia, she brought a tangible masculine form for love into an opening, into a space that was left vacant by the acceptance of the Infinite in a guise I’d always known but was untitled, like a book with a missing cover that had fallen away through the ravages of time. Through love a new cover has been crafted from soul and smoke, from sifting sands and a magic cavern always in transformation.

Gratitude is the heart of being born into a tribe of kindred spirits rather than one of blood, for this dance is a masquerade ball among smiles and capes, hugs and warm fur settling into the curves of my body, releasing into the peace of transparent presence formerly hidden. Only this.

Gratitude as I wait for each word to emerge, as I trust it will, and this is another gratitude that flows on its own from Source and gains momentum and individuality pounding through the muscles and nerves from top to tip, from head to digits, and among the swirls of ink-become-mystery. I don’t know what I’m going to say until the words reveal themselves, a mystical process that lies within the space that is neither mind nor hand but apparently emerges on gossamer streams flowing in the subtle space near my heart.

Gratitude that my womb has never been empty, though it has never grown a child, rather within the space where a vacancy sign has been blinking off and on for decades lies a cauldron of creativity that flows unending and I manage to cup my hands occasionally, drinking the nectar that pools therein and shapes itself into forms of an imaginary world. If it is true that we dream the world into matter, then my dreams are part of a new beginning led and held by the ancients of bygone eras who whisper, their words spiraling in the cartilaginous labyrinth of inner ethereal ear, an oceanic conch shell so long out of its unity that silence and solitude are the filaments I need to form the framework in which to listen … and create.

Is this litany of gratitude a gift of time and age or one that has always been humming since the womb? Across these musing flickers of neurons is the wholeness that joins hands, jumping from one dark thread-trail to another, always present, only revealing themselves in the glowing tip of a temporary wand of incense, the seed within the womb of life.

Herstory

Scarves of silk shimmying off shelves, we are the women who love ourselves and each other through coming and going in cycles of wisdom, knowing each other’s dreams and sorrows, available for tomorrow’s group hugs, touching skin and holding hands, we each bring love to where we stand and beyond the circle we spiral out and know that we are more than one among the world.

Lisa

We touched our souls once upon a time and felt the pulse of kindred souls sublime; a heartbeat there with falling tears and shaking frame that’s wracked with fears, or gentle morning light that filtered into eyes of peace and, calmly wise, serenity within a nod in passing. A cluttered space at end and beginning where friends were made and smiles were warming us into each other’s hearts.

The threads were woven and they are firm, cannot unravel or fade away for they have become the glistening dewy web, the lake of unified vision where all saw and were seen and held gently in the space between lives that were outside the moments of community. There is a fragrance that joins us there of chai and scones within the air, of rolling hills through every season where we’ve held heart and pondered reason, understanding flowing words and what’s behind them…love.

Jannie

Streaming ink across the page allows free flow of form and age and circumstances broadly spun, where one has started, one more begun, another parted, altered into forks that divide and join again in the milky way and lunar cycles and forests deep we all know together among the world. We may not speak, our lives are drawn across the planet’s belly and brow, but all it takes is one small pause and I recall our group of women in a space of sacred connection where the energy was no longer several but one. We were joined by chance and a tapestry was begun to create a winsome pattern that was beyond space and time. What was the reason, what the rhyme, that brought us there in graceful dance? Scattered clothes that touched and met in different hands yet does resonance remain? I touch a scarf and see faces, forms…love.

The spaces are threads within my heart even though we are gone, departed, and separated. While the mist is thick for now, I feel through conscious pause the joy that rests within the moments we shared, within our breathing each other in and out while sleeping, within our routines that were intermingled with gifts of love and laughter and tears and struggle. Night after night, our breathing carried our essences into each other, and now there are cells made of your molecules within me always, womb to womb, heart to heart.

Initially, I wasn’t sure what my strange dream of scarves and bright colors and warm close energies meant, but then I realized as I began to write that I had been visited and comforted by the essence of the experiences I shared with you who were my roommates at KSA. I know that it is of no concern whether we speak again or drift apart to touch only in dreams. The moments of herstory are indelibly printed as patterns upon my memory, and stronger than the experience it is the essence of our time together that holds me in a loving embrace. You are a blessing when I pause to recall a moment here or there, of whispers and chocolate and tears and oil; of hair and walks and wisdom talks; of nature and classes and books and transmissions from honored teachers that I heard in gratitude with my sisters on the journey. The threads are silver, blue and green, we are connected though unseen.

Sisters, you are always in my heart as dreams in the night and memories in daylight and in the elements at play; the fire, the water, the air, and the earth brought you into my soul where you remain. Each of us worthy, a gift, a precious soul, and in this moment of reflection I see you and I thank you. Namaste.

__________

Lynne, Erin, and Kate, I’m sorry that I don’t have any pictures of you in our “nest!”

Word Soup Spilling Over

I am the breeze that lifts the leaves and stirs the timing of morning rhyming cool and bliss as morning’s kiss upon my skin where night has gone and day begins and Gaia spins a cloth of glowing threads upon the knowing of our heads where does not dwell the soul, oh no, for we are of the whole and world is all that we delight upon the mast-head of the ships all sailing cross the seas with sheets billowing and rippling breeze.

It seems the words of daylight dawning bring the grin of yawning day, opening, yearning, swelling until we are full of hearts that ask in graceful swoops on morning kisses, are we in the quickened breezes of bliss?

Habits are meant to change and shift just as wind’s fingers lift my hair and give it the flair of tangled lair wherein waits the guardian of the gate in her filmy dress and she beckons less is more, so we are One because our expectations are all done and we can dance upon the air where fate meets chance and all is One.

Filled with purpose up my sleeve I pull away to bare my arms until the kisses, dust and charms are once more free to seek the knowing that is flowing. Closing eyes and breathing deep, I am awake and not asleep yet can we see the shifting sands of human heart and love’ dark hands that cup us gently, raise us high, and then we sleep into the sigh of radiant joy that is all around and flying through the gritty ground until our feet are buried deep and we once more eternal sleep cradled in the arms of love, as below so above.

All is now as day begins and I am smiling with the winds so cool upon her lips and allow my heart to soar and dip like angel’s wings and bird-voice sings into the dawning. Birds are chirping “breakfast’s here” and I love to listen, really hear, the calls of nature in the wind where hearts delight in day’s begin where I am drifting right along with word soup magic in the song, the creamy luscious soup of soul and how she makes the turning whole instead of split from all our parts, Gaia brings us nourished hearts within the gigantic pot int he earth, she sips and stirs and gives us birth. It seems the lull of wind and earth are my divinely purposed birth. Thank you mother-father for my joy of knowing more than plain constricted blowing for here within the land is ease and always turning into peace.

Stir the soup and taste the flavors all the rainbows change behaviors in the spiral of life’s spinning, into death and all beginning. Smiling dogs and laughing birds, all our voices are now heard for tuft of hair becomes the nest and this small twig a nursing breast, and just until the breath goes out feel the gap of pause receded the doubt transforming pain into love again. Upon the precious inhaled air as all I feel goes everywhere. Here, this moment’s single heart is not aware of time’s depart upon the ashes scattered there, among the rocks and sand and fluffy hair caught on cactus spines that poke and prod me into finding fresh perspective in the momentary pause where I am captured in the claws; talons of hawk who circled letting each moment cycle into the next until the current stopped and together we knew, exchanged life one to the other in blessed transfer of existence, one to the other, give receive and give again, hold the wind’s hand. Ahhh…done, upon the winds once more I soar where once I was upon the floor of desert cholla singing earth, see how I’ve now been given birth into the breeze? Kiss the air, hug dark soil, see the light, and flowing my blood into each momentary toil where shift and change are gifts of life where bliss is all when resistance fades into the dawning blessed day.

When we offer word soup, it is a special spiritual blend of savory and sweet, enjoining all flavors into nourishing flowing soma because the words are poured from sacred sound into consciousness and then onto the page for communion.

Gayatri Mantra – Dhimahi

Continuing my journey through the Gayatri / GaiaTree Mantra …

Dhimahi — definitions or understandings of the actual word/sound are:

focus, attention, meditation, communion,

all upon and within the Divine

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Pause. Give her all of our attention, within this moment see Divine fullness of Being and exist within her as She rests within us and all matter. We are inseparable. And once we fully embrace the Divine Energy that is both manifest/immanent as well as transcendent then we are truly dwelling within Gaia. Then, we can give our attention to Her in every moment because no matter what is happening or not happening, our attention is on Her and we dwell in peace, radiating Light and Love. 

To consciously give ourselves time/space is a first step into communion as it is meant to be … every moment, all forms and non-forms present Her in themselves, in the essence and vibration of the seen and unseen. With focus, we reciprocate the presence.  

Oh, imagine to be within Her even when we have not set aside devotional time/space. Imagine the bliss of our entire life in alignment with Her. Then the pause and space for meditation upon the sacred is merely delicious icing — it is not the deep, rich cake of Source, Her cakes of heaven, because in full awareness we partake every moment, enjoying every bit, every crumb, as part of Divine sustenance toward growth and nourishing change and wisdom. 

I pause within space and time, to bring conscious awareness to Goddess in All, to honor Her gifts, and receive Her Grace and know the abundance of Her as Source. The vibrations raised within me during devotion resonate, permeating my body, mind and soul, raising me into communion with Spirit that will last throughout the day, clarifying, providing discernment to always see Her, this resonance rising up within me as an automatic Grace when I stumble, fall, or feel alone. She is here and a moment of focus recalled allows the opening to once more see Her and feel Her within and all around. 

There is no sacred transcendence because we are right here, right now. And She is Here. Why go looking for Her ‘out there’ somewhere? She is here in the comforting hugs, gentle words, soft eyes of love, abundant rains, painful reminders and the hurtful lessons that flow in this energetic world of illusory existence we create from moment to moment with the power of our thoughts and beliefs. 

Imagine … bringing Gaia into every second of awareness! Glorious!

And so I focus, meditate, chant, pray, do ritual, move … giving my attention to the Divine in gratitude and allowing Her strength, wisdom, love, to flow through me. Every time I open, inviting Her, She is already here, waiting to bring bliss and peace as the background of all experience. This is another gift of Source. Her Great Mystery is to provide a tapestry of joy in Being, of peace in existence, that sustains us through the dance of the world until all life’s rhythms are pulsing in Her together as One. 

We don’t have to wait or despair. We need not judge or feel righteous toward others’ devotionals. We are all on journeys … sharing as we go along, learning to find our way. When I pause to re-mind myself of connection with the Divine, when I open to Her conduit of love and channel of joy, when I being attention in devotion — no matter how long; seconds, minutes, hours — then during that presence of Spirit and Self, we are all aware. We may react when feeling the conscious devotion of another. Is our response kind, loving, honoring of their path in that moment? They have paused in acknowledgement of Source and I need only concern myself with my own response Do I pause and honor their journey to the Divine? It doesn’t have to be my path, but can I respect that it is theirs? And let go? Release the need for same, and its comforts to ego, and instead celebrate Divine Diversity? I cannot know what is in each person’s heart; can I pause in a moment of pure loving support, in compassion, in honor of the attention being given to the Infinite as felt by another? I feel Her within me in my own unique way, and Her gift is open-hearted, loving acceptance of my attempts to know Her. We manifest our own reality/illusion in devotion, and I choose Love. 

To love in attention and devotion to Matter and Spirit equally, as One.