Write it, Paint it, Dance it, March it, Vote it
Keep It Hollow
The Spaniards came to our village in 1524, but they couldn’t get anybody to go to their church, so they demolished our old temple and used the stones to build a new church on the same site. (This was a common practice.) But the Tzutujil people are crafty. They watched as the old temple stones were used to build the new church, and they memorized where each one went. As far as the Tzutujil were concerned, this strange, square European church was just a reconfiguration of the old. (When I was learning to be a shaman, I had to memorize where all those damn stones were, because they were all holy. It was like being a novice taxi driver in London.)
The Catholic priests abandoned the village in the 1600s because of earthquakes and cholera, then came back fifty years later and found a big hole in the middle of the church. “What is that?” they said. By then, the Indians knew the priests destroyed everything relating to the native religion, so the Indians said, “When we reenact the crucifixion of Jesus, this is the hole where we put the cross.”
In truth, that hole was a hollow place that was never to be filled, because it led to another hollow place left over from the temple that had been there originally, and that place was connected to all the other layers of existence.
For four and a half centuries, the Indians kept their traditions intact in a way that the Europeans couldn’t see or understand. If the Spaniards asked, “Where is your God?” the Indians would point to this empty hole. But when the American clergy came in the 1950s, they weren’t fooled. They said, “This is paganism.” And so, eventually, they filled the empty place with concrete.
I was there when that happened, in 1976. I was livid. I went to the village council and ranted and raved about how terrible it was. The old men calmly smoked their cigars and agreed. After an hour or so, when I was out of breath, they started talking about something totally unrelated. I asked, “Doesn’t anybody care about this?”
“Oh, yeah,” they said. “We care. But these Christians are idiots if they think they can just eradicate the conduit from this world to the next with a little mud. That’s as ridiculous as you worrying about it. But if you must do something, here’s a pick, shovel, and chisel. Dig it out.”
So some old men and I dug out the hole. Then the Catholics filled the hole back up, and two weeks later we dug it out again. We went back and forth this way five times until, finally, somebody made a stone cover for the hole, so the Catholics could pretend it wasn’t there, and we could pull the cover off whenever we wanted to use it.
That’s how the spirit is now in this country. The hole, the hollow place that must be fed, is still there, but it’s covered over with spiritual amnesia. We try to fill up that beautiful hollow place with drugs, television, potato chips — anything. But it can’t be filled. It needs to be kept hollow.
~Martin Prechtel
A Prayer for Chaotic Times
I am SAFE.
I am HELD.
I am LOVED by Her.
You are SAFE
You are HELD.
You are LOVED by Her.
We are SAFE.
We are HELD.
We are LOVED by Her.
❤️
Who is Her?
In the ancient tantric tradition, Adhara Shakti is the Goddess, the divine feminine who supports us in the physical realm. She is the supportive energy in the soil and rocks of our Earth, and in the bones of your body. She is there in the the steady beat of your heart and the solid support of your pelvis and spine. She is there, always there, in the ground beneath you.
To me, Mama Earth embodies Adhara Shakti. I am safe. I am held. I am loved by Mama Earth.
A Clearing
“here is the month i decided to shed everything not deeply committed to my dreams. the day i refused to be a victim to the self-pity. here is the week i slept in the garden. the spring i wrung the self-doubt by its neck. hung your kindness up. took down the calendar. the week i danced so hard my heart learned to float above water again. the summer i unscrewed all the mirrors from their walls. no longer needed to see myself to feel seen. combed the weight out of my hair.
i fold the good days up and place them in my back pocket for safekeeping. draw the match. cremate the unnecessary. the light of the fire warms my toes. i pour myself a glass of warm water to cleanse myself for january. here I go. stronger and wiser into the new.”
~ rupi kaur
☾☽
#Beautiful
Blessings of the Dark
Today I am grateful for:
1. The dark half of the year. Time to slow down, dream, reflect, contemplate. #Darkness
2. Welsh Goddess Arianrhod. She lives in a wheel of stars at the center of the night sky. Arianrhod keeps the dead safe until it is time for them to be reborn. #RestingPlace
3. Celtic Goddess Elen of the Ways. She is a whisper, a gentle wind in the wilderness. Elen shows us our true path. #WayShower
4. The bone collector, a Celtic Crone Goddess who collects the bones of the dead animals all winter and sings them across the void to be reborn. #BoneSong
5. Hindu Goddess Kali. She dances a power dance and demands we embrace our shadow. #LookInTheDark
6. Babylonian Goddess Tiamat, the primordial power and chaos of the depths. She both creates and destroys. The early patriarchal kings claimed to have destroyed Tiamat, but we all know better. #Primordial
7. Ancient feminine energies / archetypes of darkness. These dark goddesses hold so much wisdom and power. #DarkWisdom
🌙
Originally posted on Facebook, 11/28/19
Image: Paris Catacombs by Nancy L
Get Still
Sometimes getting still and listening deeply is exactly what we need.
Mothers
There are mothers.
There are birth mothers.
And there are stepmothers.
There are adoptive mothers
and there are soul mothers.
There are real life mothers
and there are heavenly mothers.
There are deceased mothers and mothers alive.
There are mothers of darkness and mothers of light.
And there are mothers of Heavens and of Earth.
There are mother goddesses and the holy womb.
There are angelic mothers of saints and The mother of God.
There are always mothers.
Mothers upon mothers upon mothers.
Earthly mothers.
Holy mothers.
I am told they are all in me.
It takes a while to see,
But in a luminous moment, I do.
~Mette Welhaven Naess