Dream Fragment – Re-awakening the Feminine Heart

Heart of the small one, tortured…
broken open by grief, longing, yearning.
Tear-filled eyes, shining with pain.

“In service” answered the bright being,
Her eyes smiling kindly,
shining with the light of the stars.

The small one reaches out her hand to touch the light one.
“How can I live this way, with a wound that will not heal?”

“Grace is yours for the asking, bright one.
Accept what is, embrace yourself in all of your fullness.
Become one with your heart” answered the Mother.

“It is too difficult here, alone and without physical comfort.
I want to come home.”

She wavered in her lavender fullness, and revealed a rainbow heart, beating at the center of the world, in time with the small one.

“This is your heart center, and your heart is your home.
You carry your home inside, always.
The Presence is not outside, but within.
Your own divinity is soft, receptive; strong in vulnerability.
Loving…in both joy and pain.”

“Then where, bright one, can I find freedom in restriction, and stillness in chaos?”

“That is what you are feeling, child; The All of your Being.
The heart is movement- ever-shifting, conscious, active, loving.
The stillness you seek is illusion.
Only in acceptance and honoring does the pace slow enough
for you to perceive your connection to the totality.
And then, you are in Oneness.”

…and still the small self asked,
“And is there anything in that for me?”

Again, the Goddess smiled.

“Why, of course. It’s all for you, dear one.
When you open your heart,
the totality of All That Is opens.
That is the true liberation of spirit from form.”

Invoking the Cailleach

A chill wind rustles the leaves of early autumn
and the girl slips out from behind the tall,
straight trunk of the retiring maple,
her gaze still watching the summer fade behind her.

It must have slipped past without her notice,
the shift more subtle than usual this year
despite the dreams and visions.

When did the burgeoning ripeness of the Mother
turn to the visage of the Crone?

How long has the Old One been standing
in the Northwest corner,
waiting for her to see?

The girl knows that the summer boy
has departed for good once again,
without a parting kiss,
no honoring of love shared,
or even a proper goodbye.

The tears of sorrow fall to the ground,
the unseen beings silently accept the offering.

The Ancient Mother is aware of all this,
the pain palpable as she watches
the bright red heart of the girl crack open.
This is the fertilizer for the seeds of the new
though the girl does not yet know.

The long eye of the Cailleach
glances simultaneously back to all that was,
and forward to all that might become.
The longing of the girl who awaits her release into death
has invoked her full power,
unknowable and full of destruction.

The Hag misses nothing,
noting the cowardly withdrawal
of the masculine.

The denial of love, a closing down, an easy conquest.
Where are the men who used to hold the space?
When as Badbh she wields her scythe of blind Justice,
this transgression will not be forgotten.
As the earth slowly releases the final bounty,
the cycle of her power grows.

With her left eye, she gazes forward
into the harsh wind of deep autumn,
and the soft dreamtime of Winter.

The Morrigan cracks a wide, forbidding smile,
relishing the tearing away of the old
creating a space for the tiny seeds of hope
to be planted in the now barren soil.

The Ancient Crone reaches out her arms, waiting.
Time to clear what no longer serves,
and welcome the girl
into the embrace of the twilight.

The Cailleach knows the Truth of this world;
All things must die.
And what she cannot teach through love,
will be learned through fear.

There is no difference save what we create.