Art: Liz Darling
Amen to the apples that fell, so that we could fall to the Earth and feel our bodies —belly to dirt. Amen to the enticingly round globe of red, color of blood, seductive juicy wisdom. Amen to wanting just one bite. Amen to woman, blessed woman. Round and voluptuous in her skin, redefining sin, redefining pleasure, redefining becoming, redefining sensual. Redefining the gift of shedding and snakes.
Amen to the uterus -the universe —butterfly of creation. Always transforming.
Life Death Life
There is a reason the apple seeds together form the shape of a star And that apple is round, like a woman’s plump belly when she is full of creation. Whether blood or babe, art or story, plump with ancestral memory or destiny songlines. Plump with motherland stories. She is, a wild Matryoshka, a universe blossoming like flowers —offering fruit. She is the wisdom of life experience.
Once upon a time
God was a woman
I return to this poem, in times of forgetting. In times of remembering. She is rearranged here in narrative form, so that the message moves through, more rounded, more full. Alive again in her life death life ever renewing potentiality.
As I contemplate my last year, and the start of this, I find myself more and more aware that I am in transition within my spiritual self, my deeper core truths and knowings are also being rearranged, rearchitected, reawakened. I feel a bit like Sleeping Beauty, after having had her finger pricked -still asleep with the entire kingdom, while the world outside changes, evolves, de-evolves. Somewhere there is a prince (the ego/higher self) moving in, preparing, entering the kingdom of briars and thorns. The thorns and briars move of their own accord. He enters. He that is me, that is my awakening mind, my awakening ego. Towards the she that is me, the inner sleeper, the inner beauty, the inner soul. What happens when they kiss? Alchemy. Inner union.
I have navigated different spiritual paths on my journey (in this lifetime) and have a sense of the deeper spiritual journeys of past life religious and spirit seeking. There is a kind of toggling that I do, in this lifetime, between the divine feminine and the divine masculine -the ancient moon mysteries, and the post christ, gnostic esoteric sun mysteries. I sometimes do an either or dance. And at times, I find myself in a natural weaving, in which the ancient mother and the ancient father are woven within my marrow and my flesh, within my blood and my breath, within my soul and my ego.
To reject one is to reject an important aspect of my inner self, of my inner kingdom, of my inner knowing.
Blood mysteries and sun mysteries
Moon mysteries and Christ consciousness
The Wise, Ancient Mother and the Celestial Father
yes to the union
but also, to the origin in my womb story, to the re-wilding origin story of my body, as female body, to my soul, temple priestess of my awakening
that also, God is Mother, God is Womb. God is Blood Mystery sparkling with the radiance of a thousand suns. God is Birthing itself anew through me, through you. Below and beyond. Within. Above and in the abyss.
God is a mysterious unfolding blossoming shedding, spiraling vortex of multitudinous multidimensional multilinear songlines.
For this, I am grateful. Because I can hear her song this morning. Through the self that is me, that is woman, that is mother, that is bleeding, that is shedding, that is awakening.
In the red firethorn berries hanging abundantly outside my door. In the blue sky cascading over an expansive red desert that was once a sea. In the hope nestled inside the birdcage of my ribs, chirping her longing.
Let us awaken more into the sacred union of mystery, as we are birthed into the holy (whole-y) new. Anew.
rise oh my soul and sing your sacred song.
image: unknown