Tag Archive | Crete

Artemis in Crete

[The following is an excerpt from Minoan Messages On The Gaia Path.]

balconyIS IT COINCIDENCE THAT I AM STAYING at a hotel named after Artemis? Artemis who has long been another resonant Goddess for me? Artemis who exemplifies the independent stage of life I went through after my divorce and before I met Ron? Artemis in her Maidenhood, her independence and empowerment, her strength and intimate relationship to the wilds, the woods, nature, her pack of hounds called the Alani? The Alani of which I became one?

I’ve read books and articles about Artemis, and relate to much of what’s written, yet I also know Her differently in some ways.

Goddess of the Hunt is one of Her appellations. However, as a devotee of Artemis, my sense is that as “the huntress” Artemis did/does not advocate killing. Rather, Hers is the power of dispensation and for stepping in as intermediary between hunted and hunter for a swift and painless death. In other words, if it is necessary to take a life for survival, invoke and invite her guidance and She may grant absolution to the one who deals death to a precious wild creature and/or an innocent of any species. Her bestowing of prowess with the bow—in her association with that tool—was for protection of the wild creatures, and to prevent suffering. Ultimately, Artemis is a Huntress of Souls, not hunting to kill in our mundane perceptions but to renew, protect, guide, save and inspire the wild and innocent beings.

In her other guises and energies, and at other points in time, Artemis is also known by a variety of names. For instance, on Crete, She is associated with Britomartis, Goddess of Mountains, and Eileithyia, Goddess of Birth and thus also of Death.

My own energy is connected to Artemis in some interesting ways. A zodiac sign associated with Artemis is Taurus, which is my birth sign. I have a strong attachment to not only the wild and untamed mountains of myriad landscapes, but also to woodlands, trees, and especially pine trees; Artemis, Goddess of the Wilderness, has been known to hold a “pine cone tipped wand,” and is a tree goddess. My given middle name is Diane, a form of Diana which is the Roman name for Artemis. She is Moon Goddess and Lady of the Beasts; I am most content at night or in caves, and have always lived with multiple dogs. The moment I ‘met’ Artemis, we were in resonance.

She has, however, been tainted by aggression, enslaved by the will of the oppressors, and made into an image of death-wielder or hunter of those She actually protects. There is a deep chasm stretching between Artemis-primordial and what they—the violent ones—seek to make Her. Her archetype has not the desire to kill or to destroy. She is the waxing moon of growth, the crescent moon is Her silver bow and Her discerning, protective gaze flies sure and true as an arrow from that bow. She is the Great Mother Bear, marking the trees to show all who come into the forest that this is sacred space. Who were the Amazons when Artemis led them into healing groves and fields of herbs where the animals showed ignorant human hands how to know blessed plants that could turn fear into peace, hate into love, and still the pains of birth and death?

Screen Shot 2014-09-13 at 4.24.41 PMHow can we see Artemis clearly if we look through the eyes of patriarchy and those who dominated even themselves, restraining any semblance of kindness? Harsh times rode in on horses disregarded except as vehicles, long forgotten as the wings upon earthly rhythms pounding freedom across the land. Can we close our eyes and feel the origin? Imagine one of the first faces of She Who Runs With the Wolves for they are Her friends, her kin.

I am stricken and saddened by how easily we forget to look before the onslaught of oppression, look into the forest mists of the times when harmony reigned and all of Great Mother’s creature beings were honored, each life taken a great sacrifice for which we gave thanks, asking beforehand for a volunteer … the wounded, the weak, the old. Grace is given for their life to be taken quickly, offered as sustenance in the cycle. The vibrational patterns of life, the energetic threads of relationality became snarled and were tangled, so that we forgot Her truth, Her Divine gift of interconnected honoring into harmony.

Under the light of the waxing moon, She cast shadows to protect the wild beings, to create equality—challenge and illusion—so they would not be taken too easily, would not be slaughtered without asking forgiveness, without prayer and invocation of Divine guidance to lead them to balance of sacrifice and nurturance.

There is tremendous strength in standing firm, in holding fast, in celebrating birth and death as equally vital in our human forms walking the manifest world. Artemis is the exhilaration, the growing light in the sacred dark, glorying in the soft shadows of night and the cool recesses of the cave, and the womb of renewal and joy of youthful vigor.

She has been tarnished and stained, contorted by aggressors who cannot possibly understand Her complexities, for taking a life is a mighty responsibility and the life taken is then to be honored in a way that reveres all life be it plants, animals or the unknown mysteries of the unseen realms that guide and direct us into opportunities for greater inter-relationship.

Her stories were told and written down by men who could not comprehend Her. Artemis is one who guides us to look within, in the dark, to discover whether we need to take a life or sacrifice our own or even to simply allow a flow of compassion into the relating of all life. She guides us into the paths of our souls, pointing with her arrows to that which needs to be removed or transformed.

The Amazon legends, like the stories of Artemis, were recorded by men; we must seek within our own hearts to find the truth between the lines of the self-reflected, ego-dictated aggression of patriarchy to locate pure source. Maybe the Amazons were indeed wild women of the forests who supplemented their gatherer diets with the occasional meat sacrifice. But I sense that whenever a kill was necessary, it would have been a grave undertaking, not a revelry of joy and laughter with fierce cries of jubilation and pounding upon the chest in dominance. There would have been no joy in the kill.

Artemis vibrates with protection, defense when necessary, and survival with a distinctive grace and reverence for all life. Humans have the will and the intellect to choose how we live, and Artemis will guide us through the dark if we open to Her power.balconyatdusk


“It is a gross misunderstanding to imagine warfare as endemic to the human condition.”

~ Marija Gimbutas, Professor of Baltic and Slavic Studies at UCLA, 1963-1989; Chair of European Archeology. Gimbutas

I feel sadness at how quickly average people — men and women both — have become excited by the idea that Viking women could have been half of the warrior force. What reason is there to celebrate violence in any culture? And yet, consider all the movies and television series that continue to grow in number where the female is killing and destroying; this is promoting the idea that women can only hold power by becoming better warriors/killers than the men. The promotion of that archetype is not coming from the core of feminine principles of a loving, transformative energy but from the obfuscating masculine energies within them. This will not resolve anything — this will not heal our world.Fresco at Knossos - Version 2

I wish people were as thrilled by the knowledge that there were many early civilizations that existed peacefully for hundreds of years, some for over a thousand years, within an egalitarian structure. Some of these towns and/or village communities were heavily populated; for instance, the “Late Cucuteni culture, c. 4000-3500 B.C., reached an urban stage with towns of up to 10,000 inhabitants at the center of a district surrounded by medium and smaller size villages,” while other large, peaceful societies prospered as well such as that of Catal Huyuk in Anatolia and on Crete we know of the “Minoan” culture. (Gimbutas) Further, hunter-gatherer cultures were usually egalitarian as well.

Minoan Messages

Minoan Messages Cover

available in paperback or epub

Ever lost sight of your identity and/or your purpose? Me, too!


Darla has been a spiritual eclectic for over fifteen years. She is rooted in her faith and happy in her lifestyle. But when her husband experiences a mid-life crisis and they suddenly move from Maine to Arizona, her grounding is disrupted on more than just the physical level. Darla realizes that somewhere along the way her sense of self and purpose got left behind. Were identity and soul misplaced or totally lost? She is clinging to the possibility that a pilgrimage to Crete can show her the way home to herself. As Darla explores the remarkable sites of the ancient Minoans, she opens to the whispers of priestesses long gone, and absorbs the vibrations of a matrifocal culture wherein its people knew the harmonic oneness of life. Upon returning home, Darla continues to explore the balancing of dark and light, to weigh the merits of cave dwelling and creative expression. Through experiences, reflections, and visions on a journey that was far more than Darla had imagined, she recovers her unique identity, embraces her true nature, and steps forward to manifest her soul-purpose.


My book expresses perspectives on eclectic earth-based spirituality as well as how earth divinity supports the universal relatedness of women’s journeys and our subsequent healing through those experiences. My paths as spiritual seeker and practitioner of earth-energy healing modalities have merged; this union enhances my ability to not only explore inner and outer landscapes, but to share my perceptions of them in a variety of unique ways that includes metaphor and tales of the ancient past.

 Parakalo (please), hop over to Lulu for your copy of Minoan Messages or to Amazon KindleEfharisto!

Three Gifts of the Wise


The night brought gifts to this child of the Goddess.

New moon to start all over, to value each moment as fresh and full of promise. I no longer shed the lining of womb, thus revel in the vibrations within the dark peaceful cave that is dry and reveals in stark curves all the growth and breakage equal treasures.

Rain fell to quench the thirst of a parched desert. My skin soaks up the moisture that won’t linger in the crisp air and brisk winds of dawn. I recall the gentle tapping against my window, sleeping, calm percussion. Already the clouds are being whisked away by Gaia’s broom of feathers within the rhythm of the woodpecker that picks up the beat of the quickly-gone rainfall.

A meteor shower I did not see, hidden by rare precious rain-clouds, yet I felt its fiery trails tickle me into early waking, replenished by water, and soothed by deep slumber in new moon pillow.

She comes in threes

and wakes the trees

holding forth her eternal smile

that calls to all of us

within the trials

of life.

Yet, here She is in all Her glory

where I share my bit of story

upon the new moon’s dark,

the meteor showers’ sparks,

the delicate droplets liquid crystal grace

as they easily fill the space

that is hollow and waiting for

the next precious gift of yesterday’s song

upon a culture gone for so long.

Yet a land whispering still

of its mysteries and secret well

wherein all will come to pass once more

for we hold the truth in store

and She will open the door …

with a key

that is part

you, part me …

and we will move into the peace of the past,

become the life where beauty and love at last

have freed strife from its cage

of plastic, metal and crumbling bones of age.

Malia, Crete

Malia, Crete

Imagine the truth of every moment resting in Her glory where gentle and slow and honor set the pace and rare is the hectic race to a goal that never becomes but is lost in the shimmer of desert mirage. I cry to think of how blessed I am to be able to enjoy such incredible bliss and perfection of life in a world where so many suffer. And yet I pray for all to know this wondrous grace as I so often do. She opened my eyes to heaven on earth and I have not turned away even when the dark nights may feel threatening. Whatever happens, I know Her Grace and love for She is Gaia and She is Infinite Sacred Presence. This body and personality may stumble and fall but my Soul has blossomed into realization of Her Grace in all things and I can now return as soon as Her Light sparks within the darkness. All it takes is the tiniest glimmer and the black becomes shelter, the hole a womb, the blood I shed is healing, and breath does not need to gasp and clutch at the throat for She is always breathing into me.

Sacred Leopard

Leopard Ax Head from Knossos Crete

Leopard Ax Head from Knossos Crete

Her spots are the powerful Dark Moon; I can fall into their inky texture and feel myself wrapped within their wisdom of reflection. They are the wells of the soul, the mirrors that hold the truth. They reveal a magical reversal of solar eclipse. Her spots are the protection of ancient polished jet set in perfect polarity to her amber pelt that shimmers in the bright sun, the tips sparkling with the glow of Divine power to purify, transform and manifest.

She is the cloak that walks so softly none can hear her gliding into the present revelatory moment for she sneaks up behind our distracted self and proclaims her power with startling sudden perception though she was present long before we knew her roar within us.

She is tenderness cloaked in strength, she is protector and nurturer, she gives and takes away the breath of living tissue. She is the fluid grace that stands her ground when necessary, and she is the purring whisper of bliss carried in a mighty fortress of sinewy action. She is insight, and her razor claws slice through illusion with discerning wisdom. She carries our innocence carefully in her powerful jaws, for miles, until we are safe. She gives voice to the strength of ages and scatters the bones of deception upon the ground where they return to dust.

She will drag us kicking and screaming back to the lair of our birth-knowing with the determination bred of loving protection. Or leave us behind to learn our own way, yet always there is the trail of her scent if we pay attention. Her eyes hold the essence of presence, calm and clear. She is warm, fierce and loving, but knows when to pause in stillness and allow our own grace to flow.

She is the cave and the solar flare, mysteries become One. She sleeps with a paw in various dimensions, deeply asleep yet intensely alert. She knows the bliss of the bridge between worlds and harnesses the power of the Divine even while suckling her kits. She is solitary yet intimately connected to the Life Force moving in and around her existence. She holds herself slightly out of synch so as to maintain her power as witness, guardian, teacher yet knows when the time of her own death has come. She is a creature of Earth and Fire, yet knows the fluidity of a river in her languid movements, and the air becomes hers with one powerful leap so high she touches the sky in reverence. She is the torch lighting the way through the cave, and she is the dark moon holding the sunlight within itself safe and protected.




View from the ruins at Hamezi, Crete

I close my eyes and hear distant voices, chanting words upon a melody of plant-strewn aroma, gentle and flowing as they connect with the cycles of life. I tip my head back and lean into the wind, for a moment I lose my balance and feel my body begin to tilt … I could topple and roll all the way down the mountain if I’m not more careful. I chide myself. Yet I do it again, tipping my head back, leaning into the wild wind, not even needing to breathe because the energy in motion moves in and out of my body without my lungs as if I am breathing with the land, with the priestesses of the past, and they are breathing for and within me. Could I stay here forever? Would anyone mind if I brought a pack and retreated here for a week or two? I smile. Probably not done. Silly thoughts. But I hear a whisper that there are these sacred energy portals everywhere. And I promise myself to find them at home, in the land of my own present birth-time. 

I look into the dry well, or cistern, and imagine pulling water up in a clay jar, careful not to let it bump the rocky wall and crack. I kneel upon a woven mat and begin to wash, cleansing my body, purifying my skin with a pungent herb, and then massaging an aromatic oil into skin that is dry and thirsty. The oil is a subtle color, and my skin glows with a hint of purple. Sacred rites. Past or future?

Does the wind ever stop, here in this vortex? I hope not. For if the wind were to stop, the transmission of wisdom would halt, the sharing of memorial patterns that weave upon the imprint of this place would pause, and they are precious indeed. One room is absent a roof so that we/they can lie among the sheltering walls yet be among the stars and moon, and soak up the luminous charge, connecting with the ancestors. I feel them calling, connecting us across the veil. This space yearns for a return to ritual, and we join hands and sing …


Ruins at Hamezi, Crete

Home from Crete

Deep joy and gratitude for the gift of my Pilgrimage to Crete … allowing Her energy to flow through me in new patterns, weaving new threads into the story-cloth that is my current path — the tapestry beneath this earth-walk — and feeling Her wonders wrapped around me like an ever-changing cloak of shimmering magic and love.

This gift of pilgrimage was through the Grace of Gaia and the warm, caring, inclusive natures of Cheryl and Lana, the Goddess Guides of Goddess Tours International. Absolutely everything about my journey was splendid — if you want an incredible, empowering experience within an intimate gathering of joyful women, I highly recommend going with Cheryl and Lana! I am writing a memoir of this adventure that will be available soon.

Water Calling

The Atlantic Ocean at Ogunquit, Maine. Certainly not an ocean I’ve ever wanted to swim in — COLD — although her magnificence is mesmerizing.

Following are pieces that streamed at various times during the past week …

Dreaming daylight images of swimming in the ocean … when I have never been much of a ‘water person,’ preferring earth and solid ground and dark caves of retreat in solitude. And yet, since deciding to go to Crete, I find myself beset by yearnings to swim in the ocean — to be renewed. And I am called to the Yemaya Assessu chant strongly, mysteriously … as if She is siren and I am helpless to resist. Not that I want to.


Swim within my own Divine current and allow the wisdom to emerge. It is easier sometimes to grab hold of the tailings of other swimmers as they stroke past in color and speed, but I can never be them, I can only be me. And so the practice is to admire and honor their fluidity while reaching deep within to find the spark that has been born within that makes me unique. The spark that was lit within me that no one else has in quite the same way. To create from that spark of soul and heart, to transform … to welcome the transformation of all my experiences and learning into something to share with others. Truly, I listen to amazing people with determination and drive and my knee-jerk reaction is to follow along because how could I possibly have anything to offer compared to them? And learning from others is fine and beautiful as long as I don’t lose myself or think less of what qualities I bring into the world … my contribution. And it doesn’t need to be grand or to create a big splash. As I flow along within the Divine current, perhaps I create a little eddy or an inlet or I carry a twig upon which rests the creature that will feed the one who creates the big splash that brings all of us into harmony? That would be lovely. So when I get snared by the pull of someone else’s energy, ask … what is the gift here to accept and move on? Where can this insight lift me or cause me to wonder … what now? It can be hard sometimes to be a little fish.

It seems funny to be so captivated by water images floating in my mind these days now that I am living in a desert. But perhaps that is Her secret gift — that now I need to reach my hands into the reservoir that has been filling up during the past years. To experience the arid land and light air that stimulates creative secretions. To release all that has been building up inside and allow the healing I have known to flow out into the river like the artery of red wisdom that no longer manifests physically. To simply open, release, allow, and welcome whatever the expression needs to be in any given moment. To broaden my brush and not try to control or restrict that which flows for it will find its own way out into the world … get out of my egoic desire to control and simply allow. Let it all flow, as I am in the third phase and it is not my place to inhibit the wisdom within me that is a gift of the Divine. Gaia knows where it all needs to flow.

My body is releasing the fat of hibernation-years as I let go of the weight of hand-crafted quilt-skins needed for my own healing. I am grateful for this move, for the challenges that re-awaken me to possibility and potential that seemed stuck in Maine. Much thinking and I feel more fire though I don’t yet know where to direct its heat. The weight of contemplative writing that flowed with such flooding ease has become lighter for now, like feathers that drift upon wind and water … they sink into neither and do not remain still for long. Perhaps the ‘voice’ I heard years ago is now ready to be born? “Wear the gypsy feathers well.” A portent? The message came, I think, before we ever conceived our move, but Gaia knew and was trying to let me know that it’s okay … I can do this … my wings have grown strong once more and I don’t need to let the fears of the past hold me down/back. I keep feeling nervous as if the lack of grounding is ‘bad’ but it’s not … I can become lighter and move more where heart calls and vision beckons. I can flow with the changing current of my journey.


As I reflect once more upon water, during another monsoon downpour, my thoughts first turn to Crete as an island. Is this part of why I keep feeling the water element calling? Further, is it that I am to bring the water element to the desert in my own small way? And yet, we are all living on islands big or small that rest within the ocean of our planet. Am I an island? Yes, I am an island, and an entity resting — or hurrying — within an engulfing over-culture. And yet, I am no more alone or separate than the earth-islands are for the ocean connects us all.

What might it mean for me to “bring water to the desert?” Healing? Love? Spirit? Inspiring creativity? Wisdom? What is missing here and how can I fill the empty cups of the beings living here? how can we tap into the planetary soul-well, the reservoir that will nourish all of us into an era of peace and joy? How can I nourish myself, my partner, the animals in my care who rely upon me? Is this ocean-within the reason that I am drawn to water now?

Many years ago, I knew the correlations of elements and qualities intimately … I valued and honored those interwoven ropes that created the net of the world. I fell away into a space of self-renewal — became the caterpillar in its cocoon. Now I have emerged and ritual is singing through me to be revealed, unveiled. “Goddess is alive, magic is afoot.” Change is here and transformation calls out to Goddess who calls to me. For we exist within this space as One.

Sadhana spontaneous and different this morning, shifting — waking to rain-laden cloud cover, the air pregnant with water, the memory of torrential downpour fresh from last night, I was swimming in the ocean yet on land! And I knew that the only appropriate music for contemplation was …

“We all come from the Goddess,

and to Her we shall return

like a drop of rain

flowing to the ocean.”

Symbolism everywhere … that I am called to the isle of Crete, to swim in Her cauldron of birthing liquid at the ending of monsoon in a desert where rain has blessed the parched earth for a brief season and led me gently into reconnection with sharing healing however that may manifest.

I have missed ritual and symbols of Divine Mother/Earth Goddess and the Divine Trinity — maiden, mother/queen, crone — and now once more wear upon my ankle the red/white and black braided cord made many years ago in Her honor. Back then, worn only in ritual; now, worn in life as on-going rite of renewal.

My life is now my practice, my spiritual path, they are not separate and can no longer hide the purpose as I begin to glimpse it’s face and form. I cannot decorate it in unbecoming colors or a traditional uniform because it and I have become our true selves and continue to evolve within Her ocean of birthing and becoming.

In The Sea

free photo © Wojciech Plonka | Dreamstime.com

I see the magic key

opening for me

a door into the sea 

of love wherein we

share all life.

I see me 

in the sea

born anew

fresh and full

of purpose.

The sea gives birth to a new me and I open my mouth to drink her in, feeling her flow through ears and eyes and throat and cells refreshed by immersion in her birthing waters. For a moment, I am no more, I disappear and we are here, together, Goddess and me. I laugh and submerge, rising in the foamy waves that wash away all preconceptions and notions of inferior status because of a past that no longer matters as it is pulled apart by the gentle tugging of current and seaweed, an ebb and flow that cannot be resisted — not that I want to, instead I float within the rhythmic rocking of renewal. All the stories coalesce inside and spill out into the sea to be changed, infused with the vibrations of Gaia’s healing tears, and then reabsorbed through skin soft and supple, no longer resistant or hesitant. 

I feel the sea of change, sweeping in her dramatic blue and white gown, reflecting green and orange scarves within her depths until I can see all the colors in me. Transformation pours out of my body, all of its orifices releasing their hold upon the illusion of who I was or should be until only the pure purpose of this form is whole and swimming free. 

I see the magic key for it is me. I am the key to my own life and everything else that stands in my way is swept aside by the powerful sway of the undulating ocean of life expressing her Divine love through this one droplet. Me. I ride upon her waves to the sands of time so warm and glowing with an inner light of sun and moon held from eons past, the tiny granules scrubbing the last bit of old scurf from my heels so I may walk with silken step upon the path that is before me and has always been here though obscured by layers of moldy shoulds and decaying negatory comments that I now see for what they are — the past in transformation, being destroyed to be birthed in her tears, flowing free and full as joy in presence and love in Self. 

Her ocean depths between the worlds are set to bring exploration of ancient glory and remarkable awareness that skimmed the surface of all existence like a shooting star across the sky, light and dark in rowdy play. Disappear and rise, the key always me, shined and polished, tumbled among oceanic trembles and sandy bars where reefs pristine only barriers now to what used to be in the sea. Swept away by the mesmerizing play of images through my mind from memory that is mine yet not. 

A sudden surge of boiling bubbles rise from the deep earth crust, a crack releasing pressure from within and then meeting air continuing to rise as steam … higher than I can see until drifting among the stardust of space and galaxy. Rising. Within my chest there is a mirrored lift, a bubbling to become — from the gentle gurgle of a newborn soul among the tired body form of existence but not new, only newly revealed, all along she has been dancing, treading water with infinite patience while I scrapped and fell and hid and tried not to be who I was. Isn’t she delightful now? She splashes water toward my face and I sputter with laughter that bubbles out of the once-was-drowning gurgle. And crystalline droplets flash in the air that is clear and blue, non-existent yet present as she breathes through me as air and moisture, filling my lungs and cells with renewal.

She is the sea and the sea is me. 

In The Land

free photo © Martina Misar-tummeltshammer | Dreamstime.com

She holds all memories within the land, the events are whispered from voice to ear and back again among the echoing chambers of the conch shell of Universal Sacred Sound. I know we connect with Her when we pause upon the land and look, listen to the voices of all wisdom vibrating among the peaceful solitude that is Gaia in Her most natural state. This is where I find Her most within me and within Nature burgeoning with life and harmony through transformation of existence.

Community of people is sacred, too, but can be overwhelming in its chaos for one who is not adapted to that kind of energy. Renewal is needed, solitude is precious as blood and water and air. She is the fire of my blood rushing and changing; She is the air I breathe, moving in and out to clarify and allow discernment; She is the water filling my body with love and creation; She is the earth that holds me steady and tucks me in at night to sleep dreams of inner and outer space where galaxies whirl and I taste the fullness of Being in both places at once. Serenity fills me in the land, walking among Her elemental children, listening to their laughter, smiling at their contrasting natures, the magical playground of a manifest Divine existence. And all within are held to the vibrating images and ethereal expressions of infinite time looping upon itself as now.

Maybe that is why I am drawn to walk the island of Crete. Not only for a connection to Sacred culture and community where the Divine Feminine was alive and well in the hearts and practices of the people. But to listen to the land, the sky, the ocean and sun — a place wherein all the elements dance and play in community of balance. Where better to feel Her Spirit among ancient land memories? To swim in Her warm waters, to rest upon Her sandy skin and hear the waves share the mystery of the universe which is all of us, and wonder … who am I? Really?

In spite of my hybrid heritage, I am not called to the cultures of my genes — not strongly, not long-term. I return again and again to the lands of Greece, Crete, Egypt … feeling a tremendous pull upon the threads woven, hidden, in the tapestry that is me. Is it simply the exotic sleight-of-hand, the veil of mystery, the rich allure of amazing cultures of melded magic and mundane? Or is it more? Did I experience past life there? In those mystical lands? The earth, She will speak to me about this. Maybe while walking Crete, maybe not until later in contemplation, but I already hear Her voice soft and wise in promise, Her hug of the land calling me into Her core where I will learn more about my Self, this life’s purpose, even if it is a ‘little life’ simple and humble. I will be listening, alert to Her rhythmic messages upon the land that calls.

What can I be for Her? How can I open to Her need for expression? How does She wish to manifest through me? Will our vibrations synchronize into a joyous new melody, plain and sweet? Always inviting Her wisdom and breathtaking joy and awesome inspiration — with open arms, heart, mind and soul. As I cross into the last third of my life, I am content yet also yearning to continue opening to Her voice in the world, in Her lands and wondrous creatures. My mind in its imaginative state, can experience what my eyes cannot see … yet.

And so I listen always … Her earth is under foot and within my bones, the same air I breathe in was once a current of air beneath a bird soaring above the Mediterranean, my salty blood was once part of Her ocean, and Her sun connects every day one to the other in continuity, me here and other beings ancient across the world. Are they there now? Time is illusion. Maybe I will walk beside a young girl of thousands of years gone by as she gathers greens for dinner and we will know the same moment, the same presence, hear her whisper “are you there?” And we walk the same land, our footsteps overlaid as one in the dirt of life that holds us in form.