Around the Mother House--RCG-I Blog

February 15, 2010 ~ An Ode to Mister

I met my husband 14 years ago. I was taking my two dogs to the vet in my pick-up truck when I saw another dog in the middle of a busy road. At the time, I lived at the base of Mount Hood in Oregon – so while the area was remote and quite wild, the main road that went through the town I lived in was heavily traveled because it was the only corridor from Portland to Mount Hood. In other words, being in the middle of that road was an extremely dangerous place to be for a small dog!

Anyway, I pulled over to get the dog out of the road, when WHAM!, he was hit by a car! I heard a loud pop and the dog actually began to scream. The driver who hit the dog kept on going, the idiot. The dog, whose name turned out to be “Mister”, was still mobile, so he ran to the side of the road holding his leg up crying loudly. I walked up to him, expecting him to run in terror, but instead he literally leapt into my lap.

Luckily, he was still small enough (30 pounds) so I carried him to my truck, loaded him up with my two dogs and headed off to the vet – which if you remember, was where I was going anyway.

The vet said that Mister was “lucky”. He only had a simple fracture in his leg and it would heal easily and was relatively cheap to fix. Whew! And what’s more, she thought she knew the owner. One quick called confirmed that a local business owner/mechanic was Mister’s human companion. Relieved at this, and tired from all the excitement, I headed home to my cabin and went on with my day as usual.

Later that afternoon I got a phone call. It was from Mister’s owner, Dave. He wanted to take me out for saving his dog. Apparently, Mister had been hooked out when Dave went to work and had got off his collar. Dave was very gracious and full of gratitude, for he really loved his dog. Of course, I said “yes” to a dinner date. Why not?

And so began the journey of love between the two of us. Our first date was simple enough – dinner and a movie – but I knew that night that I would marry Dave and that we’d spend the rest of our lives together. This year, Dave and I will celebrate 13 years of marriage – which, as many of you well know, is no small feat.

Mister died 4 years ago of prostrate cancer. He was the first of our three dogs to go. It was devastating to me and to Dave. I think of Mister often and wonder if I ever would’ve met Dave if he hadn’t wandered into the road that day.

I dedicate this Valentine’s Day to Mister – the beloved loyal dog who brought my husband into my life.

Do you have a story of romance found in unexpected places? Or pets who brought gifts of love into your life? Please share them with us at rcgi@yahoogroups.com. Not a member, membership is free and open to women everywhere. Visit www.rcgi.org to join today!

--By Jennifer June Sterling – Goddess mother of three, committed dog lover, and the adoring partner of “one of the good guys”.

January 20, 2010 ~ The Fact Is…

Parenting Fact: You are only as happy as your least happy child.

This is especially true if you are a sensor, an empath, or an old-fashioned co-dependent. And when you are a parent of multiple children, well, the chances that all your children are happy at the same time decreases dramatically.

Mother Nature, in her infinite wisdom, gave parents, especially mothers, this incredible radar system by which we are energetically connected to our children. I can actually feel what my children are feeling. Honestly, I love this. When my children were babies we practiced what is now called “attachment parenting” – which simply means breastfeeding, co-sleeping, being a stay at home mother. Attachment parenting strengthens the energetic bond between parent and child and reinforces the connection between souls.

Sigh. But, I am tired. Now that my children are older (almost 12, 6, 5 years) the constant reverberation of their emotional energy in my own psyche is exhausting. My daughter and my husband are going through emotionally challenging times – therefore, so am I. My youngest son is extremely competitive with his older brother, so is often upset and frustrated – therefore, so am I. My middle child is struggling to become more independent, which often scares him, and he reacts emotionally – therefore, so do I.

And yet…

Recently my daughter was the target of bullying at school – by both her peers and the staff. I sensed something was wrong long before she told me. And when she did tell me, I have never felt such blind rage before! Feeling her pain was horrible. But my energetic connection with my daughter provided me with unique insight into the situation that allowed me to honor her experience and handle it appropriately and effectively. (The staff got a good talking to from me and Josie will go to a different school next year!)

I think this type of attachment – this energetic, empathic bond between mother and child – is the same bond that our ancient matriarchal cultures shared. It is also something that we share with our animal familiars. It is a survival skill that is as much alive today as it was thousands of years ago. By bonding energetically, we are/were able to stay connected and offer protection to our children and our tribe-mates in an unpredictable and often dangerous world.

As tribal and intuitive people our bonds must’ve been extremely strong. Yet, this bond makes us incredibly vulnerable. Can you imagine the pain of having your child ripped out of your arms by invaders, never to be seen again? Can you imagine watching a sister burn at the stake when you can actually feel her fear and pain? Perhaps, we unconsciously rationalized the pain would be more bearable if we never connected that intensely to begin with. I imagine women shut down their psychic connection to others, including their own children, because of the agony and vulnerability it can create. I believe that this is, in part, why women choose to bottle feed over breast feeding, or choose to put their babies in day care at 6 weeks old and return to work. On an unconscious level, it is scary to be so connected to another being, especially when we know that we cannot assure their safety and happiness in this world. (Note: This is in no way a judgment of parents who chose the above options, only some random thoughts I have on the subject. I recognize and honor that parenting is a complex and individual experience.)

So yes, I am tired. But I honor my connection with my children and the valuable awareness it gives me as a parent. I honor my connection to my Tribe-mates – those women I circle with – and to my husband and my animal companions. Yes, I am more vulnerable because of these connections – if you want to hurt me, just hurt someone I love and am connected to – but I am also more alive because of these connections.

Who and what are you connected to energetically/psychically? How does it inform, change, challenge you? Join the conversation by becoming a member of RCGI. Membership is free and open to women everywhere!

~By Jennifer June Sterling, Goddess mother of three.

December 15, 2009 ~ Faith

Faith [feyth] – noun: 1. belief that is not based upon proof. 2. reliance or trust in a person or thing. 3. a system of religious belief. 4. loyalty, sincerity.

Faith is listed as a noun in the dictionary. It is a “thing” (as in a noun = person, place, or thing). I find this fascinating. I have always experienced faith as a verb; as something I “do”, (as in “act act of faith”). But understanding faith as a noun defines it as a state of being, not of doing. I am intrigued by this subtle nuance between verb and noun, between being faith and doing faith.

I have to admit, I don’t really get faith, at least not in the common meaning of the word. Faith seems to be the opposite 0f rational thought. Faith without common sense and sane reasoning is what leads to intolerance, to inquisitions and ethnic cleansing, and is at the root of the dangerous radical extremism found in many traditions around the globe. Faith is at odds with science. In fact, many traditions are proud of their non-rational beliefs and they way it contradicts science. Doing faith implies accepting doctrine without question, no matter how improbably or impossible the doctrine is. In fact, the more contradictory, the more faith is required. These traditions then use blind faith as a measure of how devoted an individual is to their religion.

On the other hand, purely rational thought devoid of intuition and faith is equally treacherous. It is what led to the mechanistic world view that denied spirit in the earth – it is what killed the living earth and the Goddess. As Goddess women we know the power of the heart over the mind. We know how the world has many unexplained forces that are real, tangible, accessible – but only through shamanic experiences , magic, or intuition. These experiences cannot be explained by scientific methods or rational understandings. Yet they are real and dear to our souls and lie at the heart of our spirituality.

No doubt about it. Faith is scary. Faith is dangerous. And it is also the only thing that can save us from the patriarchal world-view that limits us to what can be “proven” through rational thought and the scientific method.

No doubt about it. Rational thought is scary. Rational thought is dangerous. And it is also the only thing that can save us from religious dogma that dictates unquestioning adherence to insane beliefs and ridiculous myths.

What I love about being a Goddess woman is that it is based upon a rational faith. It is a blend of listening with the heart, faith, and listening with the mind, rationality. Goddess spirituality does not require blind faith. To the contrary, we are compelled to think, explore, to question. Although many of us do hold belief in an unseen world, trust in unseen forces is not mandatory. Nor are we required to believe the fictional stories of ancient texts as literal and the only basis for truth. In fact, one reason many of us walked away from the religions we were born into is precisely because of the mandate that we accept their version of truth without question.

To me, faith as a noun – implies blind acceptance and adherence without thought or conscious awareness. Faith as a verb is balanced and is something that one does with conscious intent and balances the heart and the mind. Rational faith does not require that I take the beliefs of any religious tradition (goddess or patriarchial) at face value. Nor do I need to accept any cosmology without holding it to both my mental reasoning and my heart’s understanding. Faith isn’t a noun. It is an act that I do deliberately and with clear intent and purpose.

Share with us your views on faith as you understand it. Would you consider faith a quality that you have? That you want? That is important to your spirituality? Please share with us at rcgi@yahoogroups.com. Not a member of RCGI? Membership is free and open to women everywhere. Visit our website at www.rcgi.org to join!

~Jennifer June Sterling, goddess mother of three, Josie 11, Zeke 6, and Oliver 5 ~ who love sharing the joys of mama earth and questioning her faith with her children.

November 1, 2009 ~ Warrior's Release

While the warrior’s eyes saw the flock of sparks that danced against the black sky as fingertips of red and gold released them from the top of the bonfire, her mind did not register their beauty. She was aware of the rough texture of the stump upon which she was perched, but again, the thought did not register in her conscious mind. In fact, at the moment, her mind was blank. The noise of the women who had gathered around the fire, the coolness of the night air, the blazing heat of the big fire all seemed to be very far away. She simply sat, staring into the base of the flames.

The Priestess sat nearby, quietly monitoring Tem and shooing off well intentioned women who would have approached the warrior and in doing so would have broken the energy of the moment.

This year’s Hallows ritual had deeply touched the big warrior. IN fact, the Priestess had designed this Rite with Tem’s heart very much on her mind.

The Priestess had known the moment Tem noticed that the ritual team had placed items from the outpost on and around the other offerings at the Ancestor’s place in the circle. Tem had frozen in her tracks, recognizing the belongings of her family. Bean had taken her elbow, and guided her to her position in the circle. Tem had participated fully in the Rite, but her eyes had frequently wandered back to the spot.

The warrior’s physical wounds had healed months ago. And she had gradually blended into the routine of the village, finding satisfying work to do and settling into a group of close friends. She had even had a brief romantic liaison with a local woman. But the Healer and the Priestess had spoken and they knew that the heart of the big warrior was still fragile and tender. And that deep down, Tem still held herself responsible for the tragedy at the outpost that had shattered her former life.

Of course, the incident was in no way Tem’s fault. The warriors that the Queen had sent to investigate confirmed that there was nothing Tem could have done differently, except perhaps to have been in the camp when it was attacked. But they had concluded that Tem would have simply been killed with her mate, her friends and the children.

The Priestess had hoped that this Rite would help Tem to let go of her pain and to turn toward the future at last. And watching Tem stare at the flames now, she thought it may have worked.

It took a minute before she realized that the wetness running down the warrior’s chest was coming from her eyes. Tem made no sound. Her face did not change. The Priestess waited. Finally, Tem took a deep breath and let out a great sigh. She quickly moved to sit gently next to the warrior. The Priestess looked into the flames, leaning slightly forward and resting her forearms on her knees. Again she waited. Little bumps rose up on her skin as the cool breeze sauntered past.

After a moment, she heard a rustling and felt the weight of a warm soft cloak fall across her shoulders. She leaned back accepted the small piece of chocolate the warrior held out to her. Placing the sweet half-way into her mouth, she turned to face the warrior. Tem’s eyes glinted mischievously as she bit into the other half of the treat, kissing the Priestess gently at the same time.

“Next year, perhaps you can be Guardian of the Rite.” The Priestess said lightly, smiling into the warrior’s now-focused eyes.

“Next year, perhaps I won’t stop at just one kiss.”

October 20, 2009 ~ Samhain 2009

As I am preparing for the Samhain, I take a moment to look out the window and observe what Mother Nature is doing at this time of change. How does She prepare for the journey into the Deep? What is the process that She undergoes to face the cold and dark side of life/the universe? The fact that at She is preparing for Her time in the Deep is unmistakable, if only one pauses to look at Her.

As the day light hours fade noticeably, I observe the obvious ways Mother Earth and Her beings react to it. I observe the gathering of food by animals, the leaves turning colors & falling off the trees, the plants turning brown and flowers turning to seed. Using symbolic sight/shaman’s eyes, I interpret what I see and transfer Her wisdom into my own.

I interpret the gathering of food by animals to mean that I must pull to me that which nurtures and sustains me; I must protect these things by putting them in a sacred place for they are necessary for my survival in the Deep.

I interpret the falling of the leaves to mean that I must let fall away that which does not serve; this means I must take an honest personal assessment to discern that which is healthy and that which is unhealthy in my self and in my life. I understand that the process of death and dying doesn’t have to be ugly or even painful, that even endings can be beautiful.

I interpret the process of shifting from flower, to seed, to root to mean that I too must shift my focus my energy away from creating and nurturing and protecting to the inner work of assessing my lessons and preserving the wisdom I may have gained. What I preserve now will create the fertile soil for my soul in the next cycle of growth.

Mama Earth is my soul’s map. If I sit quietly long enough and often enough Her wisdom speaks to me. As we move towards the traditional season of gratitude I am deeply grateful for the wisdom of Mother Earth as She guides me through my life’s journey.

~By Jennifer June Sterling, Goddess mother of three.

October 2, 2009

so..I am sitting in the Motherhouse, listening to Meg Christian sing "can we be like drops of water, falling on a stone..." and I am doing my work for the Tribe. Now, I have heard this song a thousand times. But somehow, today, the words sunk in. These are the words:

"Can we be like drops of water, falling on a stone? Falling, breaking, dispersing in air...weaker than the stone by far, but beware that.....as time goes by the rock will wear away."

Backdrop: This week, I have two primary tasks; to do my part in the preparations for that Hallows Gathering, and to perform the ritual registration of the latest batch of new RCG members.

The workshop I am preparing for Hallows is about re-membering our lives. Over this past turn, I have been working with my personal memories, confronting the pain and the horror, and striving to complete my healing personal process so that I may be of greater service in the Healing of the Tribe. So I have been doing a lot of meditation and contemplation about my own ancient day memories, as well as those that have been shared with me by others.

One of the large unanswered questions for me about the destruction of indigenous culture is Why. Why did the attackers feel a compelling need to spend hundreds of years, invest thousands of hours of thought and panning, kill millions of innocents in order to eradicate our Tribes from the face of the Planet? Why? What was/is it that was/is so threateneing? I can come up with only two things: 1. The way we live and who we choose to live with, and 2. The way we practice our faith.

Now, I have always thought of the Tribe as a conquered people. I have always thought of us as having lost. I have always thought of myself as a failed protector of a long-lost people.

BUT I WAS WRONG.

I realized that I was wrong today, as I sang the words to that song. I was thinking about how we were "conquered", and then I looked up...and realized that I was sitting in the Motherhouse, listening to Meg Christian, and preparing for a Gathering.

Wait a minute...we are still here.

We are still loving our women.

We are still practicing the Craft in Our way.

We....

EXIST! WE survived!

We are like a "weed" in the garden of Patriarchy. They hack us down, they dig us out, they burn us off the land. But somehow, somewhere, some little tiny scrap of a root hangs on. And when the earth quickens again, that root sends up a shoot, and breaks the surface once again.

Like that "weed", we re-emerge from soil. We survive. The very fact that there are 2942 women in the world who have joined RCGI (not to mention all the other groups and afilliations), the very fact that there are women all over the world this very day who are working for and with other women to plan their Haoows celebration means that we, as a Tribe, as a people, survived!

For this Guardian, that is a HUGE moment! In my heart, today I KNOW...we DID NOT FAIL! Yes, we died. Yes, we watched our loved ones die. Yes, we saw our villages and our towns and our libraries and our priestesses burned. And yes, we have got to deal with our wounds, and our pain and our sorrow. BUT were able to save enough of the root so that the plant would grow again. And as a result, today, I was able to sit in the Motherhouse, listening to Meg sing, and planning a workshop for the Gathering.

Wow. Happy New Year!

September 15, 2009 ~When Did The Crazy Train Arrive and Why Did I Get On?

Okay, what evil gremlin sneaks into my kid’s room each morning and intravenously injects them with 30cc’s of pure adrenalin? Seriously, my kids give the phrase “hit the ground running” a whole new meaning.

And it’s not that I am not a morning person. I am. I love getting up pre-dawn, making a fresh cup of coffee (or tea, depending on the phase in my life) and watching the morning news (or meditating, again, depending on the phase I am in). But for my adrenalin filled tots, morning consists of no less than literally bouncing off the walls and shrieks of joy – or pain, usually one followed by the other. It’s like watching kick-boxing for crack addicts all before the wee hour of 7am! Even our dog rolls his eyes and hides from them. (The cat runs outside the second they are awake; the smart girl.)

Have you seen that movie, “Crank”? If not, don’t bother its not that good. But if you have, well, that is what my life is like every day, times three. Here’s a quick synopsis – main character, a man, is injected with a drug that will kill him. In order to stay alive long enough to enact his revenge on who did this to him he must keep his adrenalin at an excessively elevated level. Thus, the entire movie consists of this revenge minded idiot drinking Red Bull by the gallon, snorting coke and injecting himself with stolen epinephrine. Dumb plot, I know. But if you ever wonder what life is like with three very kinesthetic children, watch this movie. I’ll gladly accept your condolences afterwards.

Sigh. It’s not like there is anything I can do about it. I start with gentle reminders and progress to sterner commands until I am barking threats at them like a drill sergeant. It goes something like this. “Zeke and Oliver, remember to use your inside voices.” “No, Oliver, it’s not a good idea to tie a rope around your brother’s neck to see if he can fly.” “No, Zeke, doing belly flops off the couch onto the dog isn’t allowed.” “Yes, Oliver, I know that Spiderman can walk on walls, but putting gum on your hands and trying to stick to the walls isn’t okay.” “Take off the gum and put the ropes away.” BOYS, take off the gum and put the ropes away NOW! One. Two. Three. Dammit boys, sit down and watch some frickin’ TV would you?”

Actually, I admire their stamina and creativity and think that someday these qualities will be quite useful. But just for today I’d love to wake up and drink my coffee while they quietly play with some blocks and then clean up after themselves. Yeah right, who am I kidding?

~Jennifer June Sterling, goddess mother of three, Josie 11, Zeke 6, and Oliver – who will be 5 this month!

August 15, 2009 ~ Star Dust

Every Summer Josie and I stay up late one night during the first week of August. We drive out of town to a remote country road, get out of the car and, standing amidst corn taller than us, look to the heavens in hopes of seeing a shooting star or two. The Perseid Meteor Shower occurs when our planet moves through a particular point in its journey around the sun where there happens to be a lot of cosmic debris flying around. The result is a spectacular display of shooting stars – nature’s fireworks. Every year, Josie and I get excited as the time draws nearer. This year, Dave and the boys came along too. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the patience to sit and watch the heavens, so our trip ended early with only one shooting star witnessed. Even so, the family had fun and all asked to do it again the next night.

Once the excitement wears off though, I always feel this deep, deep sense of grief. It’s funny, I never remember the sadness that the Perseid’s invoke in me until afterwards, but it is as inevitable as they are.

Why the sadness?

Because. Have you ever been in such a remote location that when you looked into the night sky you were brought to your knees in awe? Have you ever seen billions upon billions upon billions of stars stretching from horizon to horizon, wrapping the earth with a diamond studded cloak? It is beyond breath-taking, it is awe-inspiring and can make the most atheistic in us, start to wonder. Witnessing the Milky Way – the breast milk of the Great Mother – is a magical magical path that reminds us that we are not alone nor forgotten. For those of you fortunate enough to have traveled the remote spaces on earth, away from city lights and human interference, you know what I am talking about.

And I can’t help but wonder about a time in our past when EVERY soul on earth would look up into the night sky and behold the enormity of the Universe. How did seeing the stars so close and yet so far inform their reality? What is lost deep within our souls by existing in a world where an individual can live an entire life without seeing the full magnitude of a night sky unencumbered by city lights? I wonder how we would be different as a society/culture, and of course as individuals, if we had time each night to stare out into space and contemplate the universe and our place in it?

Stars dust is what we are made of. Literally and symbolically, stars are a reminder that we are part of something larger, something incomprehensible, something mysterious. They remind us that we are but a speck in this cosmic dance and it is humbling in a good sort of way.

What inspires you to feel more connected, alive, and part of this mysterious universe? Share your stories and thoughts online at rcgi@yahoogroups.com. The list is open to members only. Membership is free and open to women everywhere. To join, visit http://www.rcgi.org/members/members.asp.

By Jenny June Sterling – Goddess mother of three, 10 year old Josie, 5 year old Zeke, and 4 year old Oliver~ seeking the joy and spiritual lessons of being a mindful goddess mama.

June 15, 2009 ~ Unlocking the Mystery One Dream at a Time

Dmitri Mendeleev discovered the Periodic Table of Elements.

Why should you care? I imagine that the Periodic Table doesn’t evoke many warm and wonderful memories for most of you. In fact, the opposite is probably true – you were most likely introduced to the Periodic Table around 6th grade when your middle school science teacher pulled down a curtain containing a larger than life chart. It was probably around that time that your eyes glassed over and you thought – how the hell am I going to pass this class?!?!

But, there is more to the story of the Periodic Table than you were told in middle school. To fully grasp the enormity of the story, we have to travel back to the ancients – our foremothers initially conceived of the world as having only 4 elements. Over time, smart & observant individuals discovered the other elements. Slowly, as they watched, listened to and experimented with each element they began to discover their individual properties. Yet, still, there was no rhyme or reason to them – they were just sort of there, existing in an increasingly complex system that eluded organization. Eventually, someone discovered the atom and then things started to get really complex and scientists were left with this conundrum – all these elements, no real way to organize the pile of them.

And perhaps our understanding of our world would’ve stopped there, if it weren’t for an intriguing event in the life of scientist Dmitri Meneleev.

One night, Dmitri Meneleev went to sleep and dreamt of the elements. In his dream, he had a vision where all of the elements were dancing around him. All of a sudden they stopped and fell into a formation. Mendeleev woke from his dream and wrote the formation down on the back of a napkin. Thus, the birth of the Periodic Table.

The question is: is the Periodic table a divine revelation that gives us a window into the greater mystery that surrounds us? Or, is the Periodic table a random construct imposed upon us by science?

I choose to believe the first idea. I happen to believe that there is a greater mystery that our minds cannot fully comprehend, but can unlock in increments. The significance of this story isn’t that the mind unlocked anything – it is the soul, the subconscious that made the discovery.

And the Periodic Table is only one example out of hundreds of scientific discoveries that arose from not mental gymnastics but from dreams. Chemistry, paleontology, physiology, medicine, mathematics, all have been not only touched, but radically altered for the better by dreams. Srinivasa Ramanujan (1887-1920) was one of the world’s greatest mathematical geniuses. According to Ramanujan, inspiration and insight for his work many times came to him in his dreams. A Hindu goddess, named Namakkal, would appear and present mathematical formulae, which he would verify after waking. Such dreams often repeated themselves and the connection with the dream world as a source for his work was constant throughout his life.

I love all of this. It gives me hope that there is a greater mystery to life and it is not the mind alone that will be responsible for developing greater insights and understandings. And as a parent, it is a reminder to cultivate my children’s spiritual, intuitive lives as well as their cognitive learning..

Can you think of a time when a dream had a large impact on your life? Share it with us at rcgi@yahoogroups.com. Not a member, join us at www.rcgi.org. Membership is free to women everywhere.

~Written in a dreamy state by Jennifer June Sterling, goddess mother of 3.

June 1, 2009

by Kip Parker

She looks even more like the Fairy Queen than ever in her ceremonial garb. She notices me out there, and is not fooled for a moment, even though I am striving to appear casual as I lumber past the space they will be using for the Trance Dance.

I am one of the tribe's Guardians. Strolling around the grounds of the Gathering is kind of what I do. To the casual observer, I am not doing anything. But the Queens and the other Guardians know; I am working. I am observing, reading the scene. A moment's conversation, a flirtatious remark, a casual touch on the shoulder are, to those who recognize, the tools I use to move the energy.

She sticks her head out into the hallway and says my name. I turn my full attention to her; she is not the Priestess whom I serve, but it is my nature to be attentive to any of Them if They have need of me. She says, "Would you be interested in doing some Guardian work with us for this ritual?" I smile, and follow her into the space.

I am given a role, and I line up for the procession, alongside Her personal Guardian, Barb. Barb is My Bredu (my sworn sister); we have discovered shared memories. We are to lead the procession, carrying the tree banners into the space. I have not had opportunity to work energy in partnership with this warrior before. At least not in this lifetime, or in the same room.

We lead the procession into the space, stand the banners in their places and turn to stand shoulder to shoulder in front of the fireplace, watching Her as She enters the circle. As she crosses the membrane, she hesitates for a moment. Her eyes show us the joy and excitement She feels, seeing us stand together, holding the circle.

I glance at Barb and smile. She touches my shoulder, and I feel more at home than I have in 3000 years. In my heart is a picture of us, standing on a bluff, overlooking our village, shoulders touching just like now. The Priestess looks me in they eye, and I know She sees it too. She recovers Her composure and enters the space, and the ceremony begins. I do not know if a split second has passed, or an eternity.

The music begins, and all the guardians in the room follow our lead, and pick up the bamboo poles provided, drumming a counter beat on the floor as the women begin to dance. Over the next two hours (or was it a millennium?) something astounding happens; the Guardians play. We play!

The music and the dancing and the drumming amplify the great joy that we have just found in one another's company. For the first time since IT happened, there is innocent joy, unrestrained by the Shadow that normally permeates our souls. Barb and I end up swinging the sicks, clacking them together like children having sword practice. Other guardians dance around and between us, laughing. She has admonished us not to do that, but we cannot restrain ourselves. We grin like children. Even I dance.

The next morning, as the camp awakens, I am again strolling around the grounds. It looks the same as yesterday, women beginning to stir and sleepily move toward the dining hall. But everything has changed; it is a new day. We, the Warriors have connected, shown ourselves, and found the joy of being together. Nothing will ever be the same again.

Yes, the sadness and the pain and the wounds are still there for many of us, but today we know that we are healing, and that we never have to feel alone in our pain anymore.

And the Wheel goes round. Blessed be.

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