Hot nature.
Humid thickness
of life
breath
and passion.Sticky spirit
melting senses
sleepy mind
moving through
watery air.Mosquitoes whine
ticks lurk
Summer is here.She’s heavy
weighty
watery
thick
green.Summer has come to the woods
Summer has bitten my thigh
Summer whines in my ear
Summer waits
for my ideas to bear fruit
rich, juicy, sweet.(6/11/13)
The Summer Solstice issue of The Oracle is out and contains a slightly revised version of my Womanenergy post:
Womenergy moved humanity across continents, birthed civilization, invented agriculture, conceived of art and writing, pottery, sculpture, and drumming, painted cave walls, raised sacred stones and built Goddess temples. It rises anew during ritual, sacred song, and drumming together. It says She Is Here. I Am Here. You Are Here and We Can Do This. It speaks through women’s hands, bodies, and heartsongs. Felt in hope, in tears, in blood, and in triumph.
Womenergy is the chain of the generations, the “red thread” that binds us womb to womb across time and space to the women who have come before and those who will come after. Spinning stories, memories, and bodies, it is that force which unfolds the body of humanity from single cells, to spiraled souls, and pushes them forth into the waiting world.
And, I was touched by this post and its Call:
Along the way, you will meet up with sisters who have answered their own calls. After years of trudging alone to the single note of our own call, we begin to sense first, then to see their dirt-smudged, tear-streaked faces. Their scars look comfortingly similar to our own. We are a ragtag tribe of outcasts, moon howling, spiritual homesteaders. The notes of our own call begin to merge and blend, and we become a symphony of stragglers, circling in sacred ritual- we are never truly alone. Our wounds are treasure maps tracing our stories back to the moment we said no, enough, no more, now, this time, my time. They bind us, these wounds, these calls, one to another on this dark wooded path.
To answer The Call is to choose a life outside what anyone else deems worthy, understandable, logical. We are heralded by some as over-emotional, ridiculous, dramatic, eccentric, strange, weird, unnatural. Others like us will recognize themselves in our journey, our
words, our artwork, our altars, our homegrown vegetables and homespun clothes. They will feel they are home when they smell lavender at our neck and see sage on our tables.
Our legacy is red, and burns with a passion we cannot contain so that it seeps out and stains our daughters and sons, marking them for a new way of life that emerges- because we were brave enough to answer a Call.
via Her Strange Angels: Call to the Wild Wood ~ A Blessing for the Solstice.
And, I was super psyched to get two new books free on Kindle this weekend:
From Lisa Micheals:
And from Rachael of the Moontimes blog!
I also appreciated this timely reminder from Chrysalis Woman:
It’s now that we Celebrate the womanifestation of the seed dream/s we conceived at Winter Solstice. Much like the Mother Mysteries associated with this time, we are giving our full attention, time and creativity to nurturing, sustaining and protecting our dreams, while reveling in the abundance of all that we are the creatrix of.
With all of this heightened activity and energy, we may find ourselves bumping up against the shadow of the Mother Archetype. With the full activation of our Fire energy that Summer Solstice generates, we can experience “burn out” by over-giving, over-nurturing, over-protecting, and/or over-doing. So remember to “Mother yourself” as you are caring for your creations. Seek out and create support systems that sustain YOU, as you work to sustain your hopes, dreams and all that you love.via Shine Your Light! – Chrysalis Woman – Returning to the Mother and Each Other.
I feel like I’m in one of these stages right now and working it through.
I’m still working on our own simple family ritual for summer solstice. It will involve many drums! 🙂
—
P.S. I have a good friend named Summer and I had to smile as I transcribed my “Summer” poem, because I imagined her biting my thigh and whining in my ear! (Really, it was a mosquito!) ;-D
WoodsPriestess 