earth based spirituality – Page 8 – Feminism and Religion

Changes, part 1 by Sara Wright

A Reflection

Two days ago, I climbed a nearby mountain on a quest to check on some wildflowers that have been disappearing. I noted the leaves in the hardwood forest were crackling under my feet and the two small brooks were dry. When I reached my destination, I felt discouraged. Not again. A whole series of trees had been cut to open a view that made no sense. Across the horizon some trees, but no mountains or water ‘views’ although I was standing on a mountain ledge (and just how many mountain views do we need here in the mountains anyway)? After perusing the area with keen attention, I was convinced. The wildflower I was seeking had been burned to a crisp under a solstice sun after the protective trees were cut, and I had to accept that this jewel was gone for good. Worst of all this travesty occurred in what was supposed to be a protected “recreational community forest.” (translation: human centered – nature is just being used).

Firefly Night by Sara Wright

Warm nights
stir
sweet
moist air
waft
through
open windows
golden lights
begin to
blink

Understory by Sara Wright

“If this isn’t the manifestation of the Great Goddess Greening the Earth I don’t know what is.” – Sara

Time stretches, folds back on herself as I gaze out the window squared by the four directions. A slanted sun glows golden green in early twilight. How comforting to see the trees rotting on the ground and new green wrapped all around me like a cape. The hemlock branches are almost black against the sun that sets early in the gorge. The phoebes are still – a few leaves flutter – lemon lime emerald – we haven’t names for all the impossible hues of green. I am suspended. All thought disappears into shadowy sheltering hemlock and pine against a darkening sky – the day is fading into twilight…. To be steeped in green is to be blessed by the trees who will get to live out their lives as Nature intended because of the people who cared enough to save these forests – a gift for all who see…. Beyond the window a steep gorge has sprung to life – jewelweed and oxalis bubbling out of stone. Crystalline water flows down the hillside…It is clear to me why springs were experienced as holy places. The crisscrossing of downed trees fallen under wind and winter weather is nourishing the next generation of seedlings. Fallen birches send anti- bacterial mycorrhizal mycelial fungal threads to protect other trees and plants from disease. We know almost nothing except that the skin of this precious earth holds the seeds of new life. No wonder I can sleep…\

Visions of the Goddess and Woodland Earth Stars by Sara Wright

Bird migration has peaked. I am hearing less mating songs as the birds who are staying nest around the house, although in the deep forests the warblers’ poignant songs are still tearing my heart out. The two phoebes who nest above my door are busy preparing home. Just yesterday I found the most beautiful goddess image, one that I have not seen before, a Lebanese goddess figure dated 16-1400 BCE that seemed to embody the birthing and nurturing aspect of the goddess, women and birds…

Now I turn to wildflowers. I have finished transplanting more wild violets, lily of the valley and some pulmonaria and my rain barrels are already dry. The drought has begun. Because I no longer garden during the summer months, I am especially attached to all the wildflowers that cover the ground around my house popping up day after day. I want to be everywhere at once!

The Gift of Breathable Air – Fire and Air – Before the Turning by Sara Wright

In the last two hours the air has finally cleared – clouds, light drizzle (the blessing of even a few drops of rain) and sweetly scented air allows my nose to pick up the intoxicating fragrance of the lemon lilies on my porch – For the last 40 hours we have been breathing dead air – or death air as I call it. Headaches for me, and sneezing coughing dogs force me to keep the windows closed, the porch door shut, and unless it is necessary, we stay inside.

All of us are so sensitive to atmospheric changes…

This time the pollution comes from Canadian wildfires – nine million acres of forests are still burning. When I emailed a friend about the air in Montreal she quipped how the air had cleared and the US had exaggerated the problem (not one word about the fate of the trees – this well-known feminist woman considers herself an environmentalist). I wondered just how accurate her assessment was because here in Maine the air was not breathable, and the blue skies were only softened by haze. I didn’t need the clean air index to tell me that we were all breathing poison. Just the thought of more burning forests ANYWHERE chills me leaving me in a state of profound despair.

Mary’s Garden by Sara Wright

Opening the doors to mist ‘Mary’s Garden’ each morning is entering a magic realm. My nose sniffs the scent of fertile woodlands even as I gazed out at an impossibly deep white shroud for months, and presently peer out at pale green earth, bees, and budding trees.

All the original contents of Mary’s Garden, mosses, lichens, liverworts, hemlock seedlings, stones and pieces of bark are buried or supported by the richest detritus and soil that I gathered with such care from a protected forest of thousands of acres just before the snow set in last November. There is a small pond in the center of the four-sided container, edged with emerald moss. Two of my animal fetish friends, a Zuni bear and frog live among the greenery. All throughout the winter this lively miniature woodland created a living link to ‘my’ beloved forest, a place I longed to be part of but could not traverse during winter months. Mary’s garden has been a source of endless enchantment and comfort during the coldest winter days.

My Powers are Growing: Are Yours? by Caryn MacGrandle

When I first found the Goddess and Women’s Spirituality almost a decade ago, my change and growth was painful. I hosted Women’s Circles, and often, they veered a tad towards venting but with self-realization and a determination to do better.

I did. And I watched the others in the Circles do so as well.

Powerful stuff. And it made me a believer in the strength of coming together while retaining our individual will and paths.

I am a different person today for all those Circles. They changed me in ways that no amount of counseling, journaling or pharmaceuticals ever could.

Community. Support.

Coming Home: The Goddess Rises…(part 1) by Sara Wright

The beginning of spring flies in on wings and croaks at my feet.

In four days, the landscape transformed from a dirty white shroud into a palette of heavenly browns. The goddess is manifesting on the first flights of the geese and ducks to open ponds, finally freed from ice. Crocus, emerging sage green bloodroot spikes, trillium, bloodroot, the arrival of phoebes, white throated sparrows, turkey convocations, the mating of the wood frogs, and the tiny amphibians we call spring peepers sing up the night.

Yet spring in the speed lane is deeply concerning. Temperatures skyrocketed instantly from mid 30’s to 80’s. Although the rivers and streams are still running there is no overflowing water. A few nights ago, we had the first round of light spring showers; then temperatures cooled down and now it is cold again. Many threatened wood frogs, salamanders, red efts, and toads were forced to migrate to ditches and vernal pools, their only breeding places, without warm rain; how this will affect these most vulnerable species remains to be seen. At present the earth is still moist but this drying trend is especially troubling since it has been consistent for several years. I am keenly aware of why the ancient pre -Christian goddess was first celebrated in the spring as the Rising Waters because adequate rain/flooding is the Source of all Life.

Blue Ghosts: Are you Closing Your Eyes to the Mysteries of Life? by Caryn MacGrandle

I grew up north of Dallas Texas in a suburbia hell called Plano: a concrete, strip mall jungle devoid of nature and trees beyond the contrived and manicured ones. When I married an Airforce pilot and escaped to Minnesota, Mississippi, Colorado, California and then Illinois, I learned how much I needed nature.

Fast forward twenty years and on my second marriage, we moved just south of Huntsville, Alabama to a small valley community where the foothills surrounding it signal the beginning of the Appalachian mountain range.

Home. My cells sighed in relief.

Soon after moving to Alabama, my troubled second marriage ended. And I found myself, like so many other Americans, uninsured. I was able to get my blood pressure medicine online but not the Clonazepam prescription that I have always used for my anxiety. When my dad died suddenly in the 90’s, my panic attacks began, and since then my anxiety had been an always present force in my life.

May Day Celebration by Sara Wright

Warms spring rain. The flooding fractured a poorly built bridge, rising waters overflowed moss covered banks – roads disappeared under the deluge, and I was out transplanting the last of my perennials! Working in the rain is a sensual experience – the scent of sweet earth grounds me, the sound of rushing waters not only stills inner chatter but reminds me that this is the time of year that every tribal culture used to celebrate the coming of the rains, the rising of the waters, and the blessing of wildflowers. Today, I know of no one that celebrates May Day but me, although some still honor this day as a Turning of the Wheel of the Year. And how can the latter not be?

After transplanting, moving stones, and feeding the tadpoles in my frog pond, I check on the progress of all the wild bee loving violets around the house. No flowers yet. I visit the brook to peer down at budded trillium and marsh marigolds. One golden blossom greets me in the rain; Mary incarnates! The first delicate trumpets of trailing arbutus glow like pearls. Too late for frog breeding, vernal pools are now overflowing.