The bull and the thread

Saturday September 15, 2007: Queen’s Wood Highgate, London

Acorns and newly fallen leaves crunched under my feet as I hobbled slowly down the steep path into the oak grove. The September sun warm on my shoulders, a light breeze gently brushing my cheek.

She walked on eight legs into the circle. Winding around her silvery thread, she created her all reaching web, catching us all within it. Like so many other goddesses, she wove and span and in turn, in her honour, to acknowledge the turning of the wheel, so we also entwined our voices, our words following each other in a cannon as the harmonies lifted to the tops of the watching trees.

“We are the weavers,
We are the Web,
We are the flow
And we are the ebb”

And into this place of gratitude came Demeter, Corn Mother, Gaea and others. Symbols of abundance, we honoured them and our own harvest here now and that which was to come.

And there too following the great Isis, wings spread across the city, into the quiet woods came my green eyed muddy coloured river goddess, her brown hair flowing like the water, snaking as the river does through the city.

The soft wool wound and twisted as we wove a web of community. Our feet led us in a gentle circle, binding the connection closer.

“Weave and Spin, Weave and Spin,
This is where our love begins.
Mend and heal, Mend and heal,
Take a dream and make it real?

Strand by strand,
Hand over hand,
Thread by thread,
We weave our Web.”

One by one, we followed the path through the labyrinth, walking amongst the waves of song, held by words, intention and melody.

“Every step I take is a sacred step.
Every step I take is a healing step.
Healing, healing, healing my body
Healing, healing, healing my soul”

Carefully I walked for the way was rough. Only the thin gold shining thread showed me where I was to go. Round I went, turning suddenly back upon myself, now walking straight forward, now twisting this way and that.

It was dark, but I felt that I was not alone. Tired though I was, doggedly I walked on, carrying the invisible load, feeling it weigh me down, feeling the pain in my knees from the weight.

A last turn, then I stopped. In front of me, under a golden light he stood. He was huge, a great black and shining bull. He lifted his head and seemed to fix me with an amber gaze. I met it, feeling a trembling take my whole body, wondering when he would charge and how long it would take me to die.

But he stood still and in his gaze was a kindness I had not expected to meet. It was going to be alright. The weight lifted. I stood up straight. I knew now that I had all I needed. I bowed my head in reverence and gratitude and turned and made my way back, light of heart and foot.

Hands grasped mine as voices lifted and we moved easily into the spiral dance, passing and connecting with each other as we danced, voices lifted in gratitude for the abundance of our personal and community harvest. Hands raised, we sent the cone of power up into the sky. Beside us, a small boy who had solemnly walked the labyrinth with us, applauded. Dropping hands, we laughed together and made ready to open our circle and feast. And the amber eyes of the beneficent bull watched me and I felt complete.