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.

Womb-time memory

'New Hope'- Barry Mack 48x72


Blood, bright red and shiny.
Today the pain is much less, she thought.
Better this time not to be hunched over,
waiting for something to move.
Better than a time long ago,
when she felt moved, and there was no trace.
Nothing but a faint memory, and a whiff of anaesthetic.
An ultra-sound picture,
taken by a well-meaning nurse and mother.
"Don't you want to see?" she asked, puzzled.
There was no pain then. Only numbness.

She grieves a past that never was,
and weeps for a future that will never be.

She thought she'd made peace with herself.
Until the long view came into sharper focus;
the lost highway of baby clothes and little girl dresses,
dimmed with the passing years.

And yet her womb is producing something.
How many are they?
How many growing in there,
feeding on shame, and self-esteem...
robbing creativity?
Something read, and remembered from Buddhist query:
If every living thing is an entity of the Mystic Law,
can she chant that these small,
dark growths evolve and support life,
instead of draining it?
Tiny bloodsuckers, drawing energy into the vortex.
What can ever come of that?

Blood.
Bright red and shiny.
Sacrificed to the earth.
Surrendered in love.
Each small thing released, and named.
One for each love she's ever had.
Some never embraced or admitted to.
So many tears shed, a deepening stillness spread within,
and all around.
Perhaps now her womb can be whole, and healed.

The Nature of Sacrifice

'Being'- Barry Mack

Repost from Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Nearly 3 years ago, prior to Hurricane Katrina, I began to receive messages, instruction, dream 'transmissions' regarding the nature of energy. How it is contained within nature. How it is transmitted. How it can be harvested, stored and accessed; utilized for protection, and for healing.

And about the nature of sacrifice.

At first these things seemed unrelated. And even though I was 'shown' how the act of sacrifice affected particular energy lines (literal and figurative), I was still not clear exactly what was considered a 'sacrifice'. Or that I wanted to know. Why was I being shown this?

The very word itself made me uncomfortable. I began to understand that it was the definition associated with the word that left me with this confused emotional discomfort.

This is taken directly from the Britannica Ready Reference:

sacrificen [ME, fr. OF, fr. L sacrificium, fr. sacr-, sacer + facere to make--more at do] (13c) 1: an act of offering to a deity something precious; esp: the killing of a victim on an altar 2: something offered in sacrifice 3 a: destruction or surrender ofsomething for the sake of something else b: something given up or lost. sacrifice vb -ficed ; -fic.ing vt (14c) 1: to offer as a sacrifice 2: to suffer loss of, give up, renounce, injure, or destroy esp. for an ideal, belief, or end 3: to sell at a loss ~ vi 1: to make or perform the rites of a sacrifice.

This didn't really engender much comfort or trust in my 'dreamtime' instruction. Suffering, loss, renunciation, offering to a deity. It seemed so last millennium. I thought about the story of Jesus. About terrorist attacks. How religious and political extremists believed they, too, were making a sacrifice, twisted and illogical though it might be to us. And about how this is usually done in the name of a deity. Not exactly something I wanted to look at.

Then I began to understand a bit more. I learned that the definition associated with a word was similar to an energy being placed on or associated with a symbol. That the word or symbol can evoke (or invoke) a particular energy, but it can also accumulate energy that becomes connected to it that has nothing at all to do with the origin or creation intent. It can become covered over with an energy that warps and obscures the very word/symbol itself.

I've been opened to learning over these past few years that the original idea and nature of sacrifice is intrinsically connected to love. Not as far from the idea of the resurrection story of the Christ as one might think, but before the myth itself was appropriated. Used by multiple religions in a quest for 'owning' the ultimate Truth about sacrifice. To be able to dictate how one should behave in order to be Christ-like. This in and of itself helped to obfuscate the meaning of the word. Through this knowledge, I realized that without the energy of love, true sacrifice is not possible.

And that was about it, until about two weeks ago. I'd been personally working with the elemental nature of fire, and it's transmutational properties. I received another message in the time between waking and sleep. I saw the word sacrifice spelled out in front of my closed eyes. And then it moved and shifted. The letters began to rearrange themselves... sacr..sacre..fire..care. Then it looked like this: sacred caring.

So simple, really, to take so long to understand fully. Sacrifice is not a thing, not a mental construct, not even an energy. It is the very intent that creates the energy. And behind that intent is love. This is where the idea comes from about sacrifice and miraculous healing. Lifting up a prayer, or raising your voice with open-hearted love in a state of complete selflessness allows one access to the Divine energy within and without. And moving out of the way allows this energy to manifest as ultimate healing. As Oneness.

I finally understood. I was being instructed to 'take back' the very word 'sacrifice'. Not as a noun, but as a verb. The original creation intent that has been lost within our culturally narrow definition.

So here is the recently defined version as I understand it at the present moment:

Sacrifice:
sacrificen [ME, fr. OF, fr. L sacrificium, fr. sacr-, sacer + facere to make--more at do] 1) To make holy, or sacred through an act of pure love. Sacred caring [the act and intent of] 2) in healing: the holding of a sacred space, a contained and witnessing presence within which a person might offer up something one is holding [something precious] in exchange for receiving the light of love and understanding.

I send this out into the ethers with love, light and many blessings.

R.I.P. FHM

I raise a glass in remembrance now to someone very dear to me; a wonderful lover, teacher, writer, actor, friend, confident, secret-whisperer, laugh-sharer, rebel, edge-walker, lightening-bringer, boundary-pusher, heart-opener, gasping, breathing, sighing and fully alive human being. Thank you for being present in my life. Thank you for loving me.

I'm here to tell you how much I loved him and how he changed my world for the better. I LOVED him. I can feel the tug of it now; I adored him. He had a particular energy signature that was all his own. Women everywhere could 'feel' it. I was certainly not alone in my experience. But there was a part of him that was just 'mine'. I knew that as well as I knew my own name. He was anam cara.

He was at turns vulnerable and powerful. He was tender and fierce. He was silly and profound. He was awkward and entirely made up of love. Tall and daunting. Close and forgiving. He was everything to me.

Through unforeseen circumstances he was lost to me. At least in a tangible, ordinary existence way. But his spirit exists somewhere, and the power of it created a hell of storm here in the Northeast tonight. A perfect way to say goodbye after 5 years.

So with a Guinness in one hand, and a whisky in the other, I wish you deep peace wherever you are now. Thank you for bringing through such beauty and power. Thank you for your teachings. Thank you for your sacred caring.

I love you, FM.

The Vernal Equinox

"Woman Ascending" - 48"x36"

The Vernal Equinox- The Sun crosses the equator and day and night everywhere on Earth are of equal length, with the Sun ascending here in the Northern hemisphere. Vernal means fresh and new, like the Spring. Equinox literally translates as "equal night". This year, the Sun entered into the sign of Aries on March 20 at 4:44am, marking the official beginning of the astrological New Year, and Spring.

It is a time of new emergence; life erupting from the trees and earth around us. And since we are the earth, this happens within us as we feel the clearing of the old grime of winter, the release of that which we no longer need to hold onto, and the rising of the light within.

A few years ago, I received a meditation from spirit. It is a nearly perfect exercise for Spring, assisting us in bringing in new energies while clearing room for it at the same time. It is also about honoring; yourself, the earth, and the light within.

A very talented artist and friend, Barry Mack, sent me the above photo of his "Woman Ascending" to mark the arrival of Spring in my world, and was kind enough to allow me to post it here with my meditation. You can see more of Barry's work here: http://architectsofanewdawn.ning.com/profile/BarryMack

Please receive this with my blessings.


Spring Meditation
***************************************************
Each morning at sunrise find a place in nature (a backyard, even a balcony would do) and face the direction of the rising sun in the East. It is connected to the emerald green ray of compassionate love and healing, calming, balancing and clearing, the heart chakra, and the Archangel Raphael. Briefly focus on something or someone in your life you are grateful for. Feel your heart-center opening to the warmth of the sun and the emerald green ray at your heart. Expand it until you are completely immersed in it. Open your heart to being present, fully present in that moment. Make a heart wish.

Each evening at sundown, take yourself outside and face the setting sun in the West. The West is associated with the Archangel Gabriel, the sea, and the ruby-red ray of the color spectrum that assists in physical healing, amplifying the kundalini energy and helping us to embrace responsibility for ourselves and our actions. Take a moment to focus on what needs to be released from your day (stress, anger, etc). Picture surrendering these energies (or relationships) that no longer serve you to this ruby-red light. Forgive judgment of yourself or others. Breathe in love and light, and picture expanding the ruby-red light to fully encompass you. Then visualize the emerald green light surrounding the ruby-red center in the heart area. Notice the shift as your heart center enfolds you in compassion and love. Know that you are whole and complete.

This exercise can be done each day until Bealtaine (May 1st), when you notice the ties that bind you have been released, and that your heart wish can be manifested fully and clearly.

Requiem- The Death of the Old Self

So, this is how it ends. Corrupted. Bereft. Empty. Lonely. Feeling as if I’d only just paid more attention, that none of this had to happen. I’ve spent far too much of my life and time feeling this way. And it’s such a short life.

Usually when someone contemplates throwing in the towel, there is a maudlin self-pity present. I have to say, it doesn’t feel like that to me. I know there are people who care, who love me. Who will be sad if I leave this earth. But I am aware of something they may not be. They only need me for their own reasons. To validate them, to be present for them, to be their mirror. And this, I think is what it’s about for other people. Will they grieve? Certainly. But will they grieve for me…or for their own loss? This is the human nature I have come to understand, to accept, but not to love. In truth, I am the only one who can grieve this life, my life. But do I have the courage required to do so?

Can I grieve the life that was, and the life that never was, and still remain here…present? Can I release this, and learn to feel again? Or is it too late for that? I’m so tired already. And old, aeons old. Can I lift myself one more time from this ground I stand on, a brittle, barren surface, and walk just a few steps farther on this journey? Perhaps a spark of hope will light the way, for it is so dark here, now.

I’ve spent my entire life living for others, for a cause, an idea. Living in service. Being of service. It is what drives me, what inspires me. And it’s also the thing I hate the most at this moment. For how can I truly be of service if I can’t even help myself? How can I learn to love my life, when I feel no joy?

I have been here before, in this space. I have had the light of the Presence move through me. I have been more alive than many can imagine being. I have been everything. And now, I am nothing. Why did I choose to stay, if I am incapable of creating love within my own life; within myself?

Do I have the strength to accept what is here in the dark, empty expanse, and live on? Can I find the spark of inspiration necessary to build a new hearth fire from the barely flickering candle of my soul? I cannot do it alone. This much I know. I must pray, and be open to receiving the light of my own soul, as it comes to embrace me. And if I wake up here, then I will have a chance to feel and create something new. And if not, then I will be free. Liberated.

And as I fall to my knees and ask for forgiveness, Goddess, will you be so kind as to hold a space for me, until I can hold it for myself? I think that might be exactly what I need…

The Seeds of Wholeness

I awoke today with a lead stone in my chest,
where my heart should be.
Heavy. Weighted down with grief, and anger.
Feeling wasted, barren.
Mind racing back to times gone by, and love lost.
Missing the beloved, separate from the other.
Separate even from myself.

Patterns of loss stamp themselves anew today;
deception, betrayal, jealousy, need, obsession.
The depth of emotion feels staggering to me.
There is nothing to be done but learn to be still now,
and not run to the next distraction.
Tears flow freely for myself, and then more.
Self-pity is unbecoming. Eyes red, swollen.
So tired. So tired of crying. So tired,
crying for a love destroyed before it could ever flower fully.
“Who?” You might ask.
“How many?” I would answer.

I have proven to myself that I was unlovable. Unworthy.
Over and over, the cycle repeated itself.
Deep, unrequited love.
Then I would hide behind a mask.
Which woman would I be today?
Which single-minded desire can I fulfill so that I can be loved, at least for a little while?
Eventually, it became a mask of independence and certainty, when I felt anything but.
I hid my vulnerability away, and the fear of not being seen truly became not being seen.
The prophecy became self-fulfilling.

Holding, and withholding became an instinctive,
protective way of being.
Fear of judgment and rejection drove away my ability to actively love, to be fully present to another being.
To receive the care of another being who was also like me.
Who is also God.

For I recognize myself in pain,
covered over with the grime of the past.
The questions “Does anyone truly see me?
Does anyone really care to see?” then became,
“When was the last time I allowed anyone to see?”

Then questions of divinity..
“Who am I if not God?”
“And if I am the female aspect, where is the masculine aspect to ignite the spark of my passion once again?”
“If I have recognized the light within, then why can I not see the divine within as complete?”

Memory surfaces, of my asking the mother,
“What is your dream for me?”
She was in the starlight, and she answered;
“The sacred flower of life- that is the dream for all my children. Speak the truth of your heart, and love.
Love, the verb. Love actively, without fear,
completely and passionately.”

Finally, emotion spent, comes understanding.
The stone in my chest, occupying my heart center
is like a pit... a giant seed.
And today, it cracked wide open,
spilling dry contents on the damp soil to be fertilized.
I surrender my dreams of union to the Earth,
and gift the mother with my sacrifice.
I water it with my tears, allowing the unseen beauty of my soul to radiate heat and light,
to nourish the tiny, fragile growth.
I turn over my sacred caring,
and will nurture the tender growth that arises.
I will allow the joy of wholeness to emerge.