I have never known what to call you… but I have known you all my life.
I grew up in a the small-town Texas world of: brimstone and fire. damnation! hallelujah! Of being taught to serve and fear a God who was a provider and punisher.
Never a nurturer. How could He be the alpha and omega, I would think, without bringing forth birth or nurturing?
Feeling lost in theses questions in my formative years, Instinctively, I would sit outside and feel you.
To feel alone with you, who I could not identify but who I felt. You, who were so great and vast, that instead of sitting beside you, I felt I was sitting under you, like you were the sky - or inside of you like you were the universe.
I would watch cycles go on, over and over, the birth and death and rebirth.. again and again…
of blackberry bushes out by the road, trees losing acorns and pine cones, the migration of birds..., rainy seasons and how they brought birth….. the dry seasons and how they made everything whither. I've seen in nature, the basis for legends of goddesses and how they've encompassed both creation and destruction. Because you are both,
and the nurturing. I have found that you have the power of the alpha, and omega, while not being absent in the middle in between.
I have felt you in so many places.
In breezes perfectly timed, blowing my face and shoulders and my hair in a moment
that perfect moment when I needed to wake up and see myself in the context of the world around me, and let trivial worries wash away
through the loud silence of a night filled with crickets, or through your whispers of wind throughout the trees or kicking up dust on the dirt road where I lived
I could hear you speaking.
Without words you were telling me that all I needed and all i would need to know was already there. There was no thought to think, no love to make, no wisdom to give that wasn't already there, in every particle of everything, waiting to be taken in, translated and given to others in whatever form they understood, be it love, food, a conversation, an encouraging touch on the shoulder, a song.
I am, we are, but vessels, sharing and directing your magnificence with one another.
I would need to learn to open myself and receive it in order to give it.
To me, the giving of these lessons has always been the work of a mother teaching her child. A great mother who encompasses all stories of mothers, all goddesses and their legends, in every story of woman's strength and intuition, All ways of attempting to understand this great SHE -- you, within whom all birth and distruction, all wisdom and love is contained, And now as mother myself, your wisdom moves though me and into my children... This passing of ancient wisdom and love, through me and to my children, is both a spiritual practice to honor you, the great mother, earth, goddess, and also a way that I see you within me.