I live and work in a beautiful place with a river and beach and the wild west coast. Having grown up without a TV, as a family we read a lot. This lead to me writing a lot which in turn lead to a habit of writing poetry to make sense of my world. My grandmother painted. Lovely oils and water colours which she encouraged me to try. For many years I did very little, life was not conducive to creativity until came a time when life turned on its head and suddenly I found expression in creativity with the Intentional Creativity method taught by Shiloh Sophia McCloud in her Color of Women training. So here I am, writer, artist, ritual maker showing my offerings to the world.
“I flow,” she said, flicking a wave up with her finger. “To the depths,” she said, rolling smoothly over the wave and descending to the ocean floor. Then rising from the depths of herself, allowing the water to sheet from her body, she drifts up to the beckoning moon that lights up her surface and calls for her tides to rise.
She is rising still and every moon she sweeps to the top of the sands licking at the dune plants. In between full moons She will hold back, chasing crabs, washing up offerings, lazily playing with waves. Tidal movement flows over her and I, cleansing and nourishing with the healing of the water.
Unwind the bindings clip the tight stitches release everything from bondage allow it to move. Let the song erupt, the tears to flow move and shake hear the heartbeat of life gyrate, slide and listen sway slowly to that unique rhythm of walking your own path. Know the spirals of life follow them into the centre of the deep mystery let it explode like stars into your being wear the galaxy like your favourite dress go on, let her out, bursting forth this foot stomping, hip swaying, light bearing Mystery of life. This is what the Divine created a coded map, a blueprint, a light in the world that cannot be hidden. Come on, the sea is calming The wind is steady, unfurl the canvas and light up the world.
Are you brave enough to stand at the very edge Peeking over into the void of all that there is Into the potential of yourself Where your edges come to play? This is the place of passion And the place of pain Rest here a while as there is work to do. The work of unwinding the heart and its vessels The mind and its thoughts The body and its stresses It is time to unwind here at the edge Pour the wine, there is food and great company For we are a tribe of seekers Looking for that place in our Being That says Yes! This is where I need to be. I offer you an invitation to rest here At the edge of the universe And sip wine and catch the ball Of Red Thread when it comes your way.
She who is the weaver balanced on the edge Pulls each thread tight as it passes under and over Under and over again without tangling or leaving snarls She wraps the thread of Being in and out of the line dividing darkness and light.
Balanced like a tight rope walker above the abyss Of the endless void with its sparkling darkness And the crucible of bright heat of a molten sun Warming the bright blue fabric rippling beneath The veil of the universe.
She who gazes with compassion at the colourful threads Her fingers flying to gather the breath of the dragon Weaving, over and under, the ethereal magic into the hearts Of the brave that waver on the edge of the wide universe Waiting and open to her ministrations.
She who is the Weaver of Hearts casts about to Gather those souls broken perfectly open The spirit soaring through the darkness Keening in anguish, broken threads trailing There is strength to mend with her flying fingers.
When She who is the weaver of hearts hears that brave call of the soul Taking more of the dragon’s breath she threads her needle Aiming at the rift with quick stitches making intricate patterns Tenderly pulling the edges of the gaping wound closed Allowing the heart to back gracefully off the edge between darkness and light
She who gathers the shadows as she weaves Picking them carefully from the lips of the wound Tenderly sitting each pool of tears on the rim Ushering them after the mended heart, creating a cushion to cradle The heart that birthed it against the next rending of the fabric of Being.
She who is the Weaver of Hearts of the Dragon Hearted Invites those who are not afraid of teetering on the brink To embrace their brokenness and allow the light to shine Through the weaving that will hold it together While never quite closing the gap of lessons learned.
Then she settles, to watch and wait, for your next visit To the edge of the Universe.
She says: Array is on display. I am cloaked with the web of life of all Beings, seen and unseen. Trust that the strands may break sometimes and then be woven back into being by your Beloveds and the Creatrix of Life. This is a great adventure, holding space, being active, creating, heart held in a cloak of knowing, of gentleness. WE are on display, come, take my hand, be a part of the Array.
Creating give a choice in how we react and respond to whatever is happening in the world. As an active participant in the creation of this world and how we desire to live in it.
As we awaken to the need to shape our future we understand there is a transition in stepping through the next portal and re-choosing life
Part of the quest to choosing a future is to retrieve lost parts. For some, like myself there is a tendency to smother the lost parts in a shame that belongs elsewhere. Letting go and allowing rejection that was cruel, being used, not respected, not treasured is the part of the path to being able to re-choose a different way of being. If we can leave the stories that define us behind, what then remains in front of us to walk into?
She says: “I am rooted in abundance and reaching for the stars. I am your sadness and your joy. I am your courage and your fear. We are together and loneliness is a state of mind. You do not listen well when you are stuck in this limbo of depression. Mess is as mess does, so we shall just accept our limitations and keep forging forward. It is OK that we do not look like, act like, work like others.
The tree of life is rooted in the creation of the beginning of this earth and reaches for the stars, for the moon that breathes me. She pulls in the tides, heralds the seasons and brings the other side of light to life in the darkness. We are grounded and we know how to gaze at the moon and stars. We are of the cosmos, having an earth experience in this lifetime.
If we all embrace our strength and walk forward with authenticity, boldness, unafraid of the voices that try to pull behind, then we walk with freedom, healthful and strong under the gaze of the Devine.
Held by the fore-mothers. Relax into the cradle of their being, the cradle of the universe. Listen, learn, we are connected to all things.
Access is through lines of ancestors holding you and your spirit body. The energy field extends out beyond. Is there willingness to walk an authentic path? She is stretched into the universal web behind us, plugging into the energy both above and below in the matrix of all Beings, the conduit for transmission. Access is through being conscious of being plugged into the Divine Source.
The grandmothers bring the bowl of inspiration that you may drink deeply of their wisdom, knowledge and magical gifts. The three drops of inspiration show on our face. Remember the path, remember the journey, here is the bowl – drink
Unwind the bindings clip the tight stitches release everything from bondage allow it to move. Let the song erupt, the tears to flow move and shake hear the heartbeat of life gyrate, slide and listen sway slowly to that unique rhythm of walking your own path. Know the spirals of life follow them into the centre of the deep mystery let it explode like stars into your being wear the galaxy like your favourite dress go on, let her out, bursting forth this foot stomping, hip swaying, light bearing Mystery of life. This is what the Divine created a coded map, a blueprint, a light in the world that cannot be hidden. Come on, the sea is calming The wind is steady, unfurl the canvas and light up the world.
There is that time every day when the light dims and the door sighs softly as it closes on the day.
When the bright moon hovers under the horizon not yet ready to leave those over the curve of the planet to the rising light.
The mysteries begin to gather waiting, shuffling into play order in which to be told. Taking time, allowing space for each other.
She, Wisdom Winder collects the playlist tugging the thread back to ancient libraries gathered by generations of women, Wisdom women dancing.
Shadows grow longer, fires are kindled for warmth and the scrying of the flame gazers. She Who holds the scroll begins to unwind Playing out the mysteries of deep story.
There we are Smack in the middle of the wisdom line drawn from the mystery lines through to our frontal cortex. Excitement shaking us hanging onto every word, every action and expression as the Legendary Self is storied into Being.
‘It’s in the stories”, she whispers, ‘After the light dims and the fire is lit and the women settle to listen, only then will She dance her feet stamping the rhythms of women’s wisdom throughout the cosmos.
It’s in the legends of all Legendary Women who have gone before.
Visions of Clarity 