47. weaving
The experience of human perception is marked by contrast.
It is through difference that we explore consciousness, feeling into the endless question of “who am I?” by playing the game of “not that, not this.” Through separation, form, and the density of matter, we journey through the Earth realm on a quest to remember who we truly are - beings of Spirit.
Yesterday I wrote about loneliness and grief as two visiting energies swirling in my sphere. But today, as it always is, was different.
Yesterday was a day of raging and grieving.
Today was a day of reaching and weaving.
I should back up and say we watched Moana 2 tonight, snuggled up in front of the fireplace, oak wood burning rainbows in the hearth: a story about stories, about how we write our own stories even as we learn from and are guided by the stories of our ancestors. A story about the power of human connection, which spans across space and time, vibrates through chaos and creation, and shines the light of consciousness out of countless names and forms.
As I tucked Tanner in after the movie, I felt myself sensing the web of human connection threaded through me, extended from me, of which I am part, but not the whole.
I am thinking of the web of women weaving around me, our lives touching not just each other but many, and as we do, lighting a rainbow tapestry which stretches around the globe.
Asha, ancestral guide and energy healer of the Anishinaabe Kwe peoples, who gave me a profound gift of confirmation, vision, and fire activation and confirmed that the power of the River and the Great Mystery are at my back.
Cathy, Ban Draoi of the lands of ErĂu - Fola, a witch and medicine keeper who heralds from the same lands as my great, great, great, great grandmother Eliza Regan, and who arrived in my life in response to a prayer to come into deeper relationship and belonging with my ancestors, the land, and myself.
Maya, oldest and dearest friend and cosmic co-teacher, cousin and Alba kin from millenia past, who has a heart of blooming Hawthorn, who has danced in and out of life with me for incarnations beyond counting, whose body, mind, hands, and voice have invited me into the cave of my own shadows, helped me restore the mantle of my sovereignty, and set my feet upon the path of my soul’s calling.
Camden, she who Sees in symbols, Borderland bridge builder, mestiza mystic, shapeshifter and my mythic Ninshubar, who found me when I was in the depths of a personal underworld, threshold crossing into archetypal mother, and had forgotten my own name; she who sang it from the other side until I emerged, reborn.
Elly, Muse, Artist, Dreamer, and Firespark, who sensed and believed in who I was becoming even before I even knew transformation was upon me, who spun me tales of our adventures in the dream realm, which turned out to be prophecy; she is oracle and ritual and koan in human form.
Amber, Earth-voice, speaker of whale song, she who carries the memories of Grandmother Elephant, she who remembers water, she who is fearlessly and faithfully flowing in the Virgo-Pisces intelligence of weaving into words and dissolving into resonance.
My head begins to spin - no, not spin, spiral, as I call forth the women with whom I am weaving, with whom I have woven, to whom the threads are stretching towards now. I think of my mama Mary, my sister Amanda, my daughter Breanna. I think of of Magdalen, Inanna, Saraswati, Hekate and the ten thousand faces of the Goddess who guides me. I think of Angie, Nicole, Elizabeth, Erin, Katy, Myrthe, Katie, Alicia, Catrina, Marie, Audrey, Lauren, Stevie, Leda, Rachel, Anne-Marie, Malaurie, Holly, Naheed, Bageshri, Isabel, Anna, Lis, Kelly, Candice, Shannon, Chandise, Cat, Ashley, Sara, Mimi, Samantha, Megan, Iva, Marylin, Leah, Tammy, Cami, Gabs, Irene, Margaret, Eva, Janneke, Sarah, Melissa, Claire, Laurie, Blythe, Cyndi, Savannah, Naomi…
Our names and faces go on and on, swirling in my Being - no, not swirling, spiraling. Spiraling until the individual, distinct faces, each radiant and unique, begin to flow and merge and weave into each other, our light reflecting and refracting and prisming in fractals of beauty, witnessing, remembrance.
These life threads, each of ineffable vibrance, are not just tethered from me to you - it's also you to Her, and Them, and Us. One touches some, some touch many, many touch the Beyond, and we all touch the Earth.
We are all connected. This week, one of the messages I received was to be courageous and trust in this journey I am on, to know that completion is assured, that I am following the Mother River toward my destiny. I was offered a reflection that touched me deeply: the promise that through my work, voice, presence, and heart, I haven’t just touched lives but lit fires within - fires that burn steadily even now, even as I may not know where or how they burn, or what is unfolding around their heat and illuminated by their flames.
These names (and all those left unnamed) are not just names. Each one is a full, complete life - the entirety of the cosmos inhabiting one human form. We are each here, a soul spark, weaving something vast together, something I don’t yet understand.
We, Women of Earth, are sensing something, feeling it in our bones and blood, feeling the organic intelligence of our own blessed bodies, sustained by food and nourished by soil, the bodies of our ancestors transformed.
We are connected by the waters between us, by the winds around us, by our very breath moving in constant exchange with the trees. We are connected by the great rhizome below our feet. We are connected by the vast web of stars that hangs in the night sky.
I can feel us reaching for each other. I feel you there, just as you feel me here (even if it’s from afar and with too few conversations in between. Even if it’s with a twinge of sadness or nostalgia or envy or uncertainty.)
Somehow I’ve found myself in a holy and humbled place tonight, thinking of all of us, just where we are now, living and breathing and loving and tending and aching and grieving and serving and raging and hoping and praying and dancing and dreaming and growing and knowing and searching and longing and listening and whispering and choosing and reaching, and reaching, and reaching for each other.
We are weaving something. I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s why we came here.
So tonight, I think, just thank you.
Thank you for weaving with me - this vast, unknown, intelligent rainbow tapestry.
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