The Feminine Divine

She walks softly on sacred ground. She respects all Earthly beingsbirds and beasts and the insects that give the tell-tale signs of the health of the Forest. She smells of wet soil, ferns, and oils of her own crafting…dark and musky, and totally, completely female.

She bends low to gather a feather–by its markings a red-tailed hawk–and adds it to the others decorating her long and mussed hair. She remembers the spaces between, she sees that which others cannot perceive with untrained eyes.

She’s a collector of bones and stones, odd things left by the Earth Mother for those willing to see–to learn and evolve. She is a practitioner of an ancient Craft, she keeps the Old Ways and the Light as well as the Dark. She reads the signs present in all Earthly thingsshe can see in shadow–and she decorates her face with the Blood of her Sacrifice to the Gods…warm and willing, a regretful yet necessary thing to feed hunger and the change in Seasons.

The plants speak to her like lovers whispering secrets; she uses all for purpose–medicines, sustenance, and deep magic bleeding from the Earth and the depths of the Sacred Land. She finds mysterious mushrooms and ghost flowers to aid in her Craft, as well as Blessed Thistle and White Sage to aid in her Healing Arts. She is hedge ryder, a keeper of the Old Ways and faith…a Shamanone who sees when darkness falls, one who can divine with the Forest.

Contemplative thought

When the words won’t flow freely, when it feels forced or too…linear…I can’t make it happen. I can’t manifest any of the dark, any of the light, any of the thoughts taking shape as visions and ”memories” in my mind.

I grow silent and withdraw into careful contemplation…as alone I came into this world, and as alone so shall I live, evolve, learn, grow, and eventually leave this world. To walk my Path is to be alone…but alone only in humankind’s dilemma. I am always surrounded by shadow; shadow that others see as nightmarish, frightening, unknown and unseen.

But we cannot see shadow without first witnessing the light that plays over all things to create it. I am embraced by the Earth Mother and Her ancient tongue—primal and freeing, exacting and comforting, loving and harsh—I grow strong and an ancient and wild Flame blossoms in my belly.

I’m home where insanity and dark dreams are my muses. I hear endless music and poetry within the deepest workings of the Earth, and all the Spirits connected and woven into this ever-changing web of energies.

I crave cycles and change. I see Spirit and flawed perfections in the Nature that holds us firmly yet frees us if we let go of this…ego. My prayers are quiet whispers and contemplations—no less meaningful or powerful for it.

My Gods can hear me, feel me, see me always and know no difference in the loudness of my breath. I see my Gods’ presence in all things, all cycles—in the death of a being to the rebirth and renewal of others; I see it in the Spirit of my Herbs, the dance in Fire, the wet passion of lovers’ frantic and primal mating, and most of all, I see Their presence and determination in my pregnancy and birth of my Daughter.

I will honor my Way and teach her to listen with open Spiritual senses, to be accepting of these traditions that carry on through us, through our Blood and Bone.