17 Ewes milk dancing revolution
Saturday January 29, 2011:
It is the first stirrings of spring. New lambs have arrived. The first milk
of the ewe is special, rich and thick, it nurtures all who sup upon it. The long winter is over, or so we think … In the insistent beat of the tambourine, in the silver trembling of her voice, the Ewe goddess comes to show me how to dance.
Imbolc is also Bridget’s time. Brigit, bright one, queen of all the land,
goddess of poetry, smith craft, inspiration and fire comes to. My feet want to follow the rhythm of the Ewe goddess but my body wants to move with the fire of Brigit. So I do both.
Brigit and the Ewe goddess might be twin’s sisters. Their femaleness challenges the magical tradition of the twins. Until now, I have encountered the twin spirits as male or ungendered. Perhaps even, the Ewe Goddess (who’s other name I don’t know) and Brigit are one and the same, a multi-aspect goddess. She invites me to crawl out from the darkness of winter into the light of hope and spring. Surely now, the light is returning and winter has truly gone?
But no - it is still cold and the wild wind snaps. I hear the footfall of the great Bear of Winter as she paces firmly across the sleeping land. Here is the ferocious mother; with her great bear claws she rips at what is no longer serving us. She leaves behind sore and bloody wounds that only time will heal.
She stalks the bare hillside on heavy feet. I stand in stillness and go within to root out what I need to let go of. I use her Great Bear Claws to tear out my fear of death and give it to the salt water that might be my tears, the healing flow of the sea, or just salt and water sitting humbly in a bowl waiting to help me let go.
I walk in my garden and touch the cold cold earth. I feel the tender silky first leaves of the snowdrops rising from the frozen ground. Bravely the sweet little flower pushes her way out, even though the frost of the clear moonlit night lies in wait to bite at those first tender shoots. I lose myself in that vulnerable fragility. Beneath my harsh winter frosty crust, I find soft hope for the coming year, it hardly dares to stir and shift. But I know that nothing can hold back the dawn.
I light a candle and hold it cupped in my hands. I feast with my fingers upon its warmth. In my mind’s eye, I see the golden flames dancing at first tentatively and then more bravely in the shelter of the orange glow that is it’s reflection upon my cupped hands. I think about love and how the simplicity of loving without ego can best help me nurture myself so that I may support a friend who is taking her last painful and terrifying walk in this life.
Oh but what is that sound? I hear the infectious beat of the tambourine. My feet start a-skipping. I dance with light lambs feet, irrepresseively and joyfully, hopefully and courageously. In the face of love, fear is defeated. I dance with the Ewe Goddess, stamping out the fear and dancing love in. I dance for those resisting tyranny whether at home or abroad, I dance to awaken myself from the long winter sleep, dancing in hope for a bright future.
“Leap for joy like new-born lambs,
Chase the bitter wind away.
Together dance into the light.
We have the courage to resist!”
My body on fire, I dance on. The song spins from me as I twirl; insistent instinctive with the rising beat of the tambourine. AS one, the dances release the energy and we come to a ragged circle. I find the stillness within my breath and slowly allow it to calm me.
“Let this be the courage we all have to resist,” I think, remembering my fear and knowing that love is what will fuel the revolution within me, and the revolution outside in the world.
White chocolate melts in my warm mouth. I feel nourished and strong, ready to rise up and move forward as the sweetness fills me with the energy I need to face the coming months. And on the edge of my hearing, the sweetest of maternal bleats comes to me between the voices of my companions. Softly I bleat in answer and remember the feeling of lacing my fingers amongst the curling softness of the fleece on my sofa at home, and am comforted.
Saturday January 29, 2011:
It is the first stirrings of spring. New lambs have arrived. The first milk
of the ewe is special, rich and thick, it nurtures all who sup upon it. The long winter is over, or so we think … In the insistent beat of the tambourine, in the silver trembling of her voice, the Ewe goddess comes to show me how to dance.
Imbolc is also Bridget’s time. Brigit, bright one, queen of all the land,
goddess of poetry, smith craft, inspiration and fire comes to. My feet want to follow the rhythm of the Ewe goddess but my body wants to move with the fire of Brigit. So I do both.
Brigit and the Ewe goddess might be twin’s sisters. Their femaleness challenges the magical tradition of the twins. Until now, I have encountered the twin spirits as male or ungendered. Perhaps even, the Ewe Goddess (who’s other name I don’t know) and Brigit are one and the same, a multi-aspect goddess. She invites me to crawl out from the darkness of winter into the light of hope and spring. Surely now, the light is returning and winter has truly gone?
But no - it is still cold and the wild wind snaps. I hear the footfall of the great Bear of Winter as she paces firmly across the sleeping land. Here is the ferocious mother; with her great bear claws she rips at what is no longer serving us. She leaves behind sore and bloody wounds that only time will heal.
She stalks the bare hillside on heavy feet. I stand in stillness and go within to root out what I need to let go of. I use her Great Bear Claws to tear out my fear of death and give it to the salt water that might be my tears, the healing flow of the sea, or just salt and water sitting humbly in a bowl waiting to help me let go.
I walk in my garden and touch the cold cold earth. I feel the tender silky first leaves of the snowdrops rising from the frozen ground. Bravely the sweet little flower pushes her way out, even though the frost of the clear moonlit night lies in wait to bite at those first tender shoots. I lose myself in that vulnerable fragility. Beneath my harsh winter frosty crust, I find soft hope for the coming year, it hardly dares to stir and shift. But I know that nothing can hold back the dawn.
I light a candle and hold it cupped in my hands. I feast with my fingers upon its warmth. In my mind’s eye, I see the golden flames dancing at first tentatively and then more bravely in the shelter of the orange glow that is it’s reflection upon my cupped hands. I think about love and how the simplicity of loving without ego can best help me nurture myself so that I may support a friend who is taking her last painful and terrifying walk in this life.
Oh but what is that sound? I hear the infectious beat of the tambourine. My feet start a-skipping. I dance with light lambs feet, irrepresseively and joyfully, hopefully and courageously. In the face of love, fear is defeated. I dance with the Ewe Goddess, stamping out the fear and dancing love in. I dance for those resisting tyranny whether at home or abroad, I dance to awaken myself from the long winter sleep, dancing in hope for a bright future.
“Leap for joy like new-born lambs,
Chase the bitter wind away.
Together dance into the light.
We have the courage to resist!”
My body on fire, I dance on. The song spins from me as I twirl; insistent instinctive with the rising beat of the tambourine. AS one, the dances release the energy and we come to a ragged circle. I find the stillness within my breath and slowly allow it to calm me.
“Let this be the courage we all have to resist,” I think, remembering my fear and knowing that love is what will fuel the revolution within me, and the revolution outside in the world.
White chocolate melts in my warm mouth. I feel nourished and strong, ready to rise up and move forward as the sweetness fills me with the energy I need to face the coming months. And on the edge of my hearing, the sweetest of maternal bleats comes to me between the voices of my companions. Softly I bleat in answer and remember the feeling of lacing my fingers amongst the curling softness of the fleece on my sofa at home, and am comforted.
posted by Blackbirdowl | 8:47 AM
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