Monday, January 15, 2007

The Goddess as a chocolate fudge cake

A gentle drizzle fell against my face as I stepped over the nettles onto the path. The earth held my feet in an elastic grip, firm but not constraining, quietly insisting that I become conscious of how I stepped. I gave my attention to my feet.

The softening mud pulled me deeper into the earth, cradling my feet with firm but gentle hands. As I stepped, the sour tang of decomposition rose and mixed with the sharper green odour of the winter wood, stirred by the brisk little breeze drying the rain on my face. Moist and succulent, soft and yielding, like the best of chocolate fudge cake, the earth held and released me, held and released me. And as I stepped, I sighed aloud with the sheer sensuousness of it's texture.

It sucked at my feet, schlurpped and licked, silently giving beneath my weight. With a soft glup, it enfolded and embraced, then let go with a comical pop as I pulled my foot free. On and on I walked, slowly, carefully, lovingly placing each foot tenderly upon the earth, sensing the textures with my feet, noticing their consistency, moaning with pleasure at my favourite.

Dabbling my bright red wellied feet in a puddle, I giggled like a contented four year old. It didn't matter how muddy I got, everything would be alright. Moving back along the path, I sighed deeply, filled with a warm sense of fulfilment, loving and being loved by the mud.


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