Celebrating Internat'l Women's Day - Liberating Eve

I've been doing SoulCollage® again!

It’s not that I’m angry with my dad. I’m not. I’m not mad at him, nor am I mad at men in general. But I am angry with the culture that formed my dad and me, the culture that stereotyped and shaped both of us into what we were “supposed” to be: “Men are to be big, strong and important, leaders, of course; and women are to be small, weak, insignificant, “helpers”, naturally. Not only were Daddy and I both raised in that mileau, but when Daddy chose a career, he chose one that “tricked” my mother into becoming no larger than a fly—a fly on a wall, always observing, but never invited in as equal. O, equality was preached all right: "Eve was created from the rib of Adam, not from his head to be lorded over, but to walk side-by-side", but that sermon was always quickly followed by “Wives, be submissive to your husband in all ways.” This damn patriarchal culture made both my mother and me so small and so “less than”.



But, to further complicate the story, I am a “Father’s Daughter”, Athena, birthed from the crown of her Father’s head, birthed fully grown and fully armored, sword drawn and yelling her war cry! The “Athena’s” of our world have been taught to promote, defend and protect this culture, and I faithfully did for over 50 years. Then one day, my body failed, and my eyes opened. The armor became way too heavy. Like the Tin Man, it had rusted so that I couldn’t even find my heart anymore, and I realized I didn’t have a clue how to rest and trust myself and my intuition, let alone God.

It’s amazing how hard is for me to rest and trust. That’s another “gift” of the Patriarchal culture. We are taught: be ever on guard, every watchful, lest the Enemy lie to you and trick you into rebelling. God help the woman who becomes like “them”, one of those “Feminists”, who, are like Eve, are easily deceived and demand equality with God.

Well, I AM Eve’s daughter: naked, unashamed, listening to the snake (an ancient symbol of women’s intuition). Well, at least that’s who I want to be, except I find I can’t get rid of all this damned armor. My armor is made up of words, and these words have taken their toll on my body. I’m always tired, no matter how much I rest. I, we, women, we’ve lost so much. Our battles seem endless, even today, in 2012, there are men who would still have us barefoot and pregnant, cooking their dinners, raising their children, promoting their careers, and serving their “Lord”. Here it is, 2012, 2000 years after Jesus the Liberator came to help set us free, and men are still trying to take back our basic right, our reproductive rights, the most intimate choice we can make.




Damn it, I’m ready to liberate Eve—I took a bite of that apple in 2004, and it tasted very good. I want this armor off, and I have the keys—it time, maybe I will truly be like Eve. NAKED AND UNASHAMED, awake, continuing to make the choice to live the bigger life that I am supposed to live. I am FREE on the inside, now to help set my body free to relax and enjoy!

Ceridwen, the Archetype

I love the old goddess myths and stories, especially the myths of the crone godesses. In Christian spirituality, she's the Black Madonna. In Celtic spirituality, she's Ceridwen.

I've been drawn to the Black Madonna for years, ever since I was introduced to her by Sue Monk Kidd, in her book Dance of the Dissident Daughter (gosh, has it really been 10 years???). I see her in the Christian Scriptures often; Shekinah, Sophia, and the maiden in The Song of Solomon in the Hebrew Scripture, as well as represented by Mary Magdalene in the New Testament. The Song's maiden and I have been intimately acquainted for nearly 20 years, and Mary Magdalene and I have walked together now for at least the last eight or so years.

Each of these women have an archetypal energy--and archetypal energies seek us out. We don't go looking for them, but they seek us and guide us and have a great affect on our lives.

And it seems that Ceridwen, pronounced Ker-RID-Wen, the Celtic Lady of the Lake is also a prominent archetypal energy in my life.

I discovered a wall sculpture of her a couple of years back and bought it simply because I was drawn to it. She was black and strong, her strong arms and legs encircling a great cauldron, and she was stirring the pot. Something inside of me moved when I first saw her, and I've learned to pay attention to those feelings inside.

I didn't know much about her then, and I still don't know much about her, except that her name and her story showed up on the Eve of Winter's Solstice this year--and that too caught my attention. Here's a little info I found on the internet:

* she, too, is a cauldron, which symbolizes wisdom, transformation, new birth, and creative inspiration.

* she is wise, powerful, resourceful, and she's a crone, associated with the moon, science, prophecy and poetry.

* she's past child-bearing years (a crone).

* it seems her one great weakness is interfering in her children's lives??? (o yeah???, me?, never!).

* and it seems she is the mother of Bards, Singers, Healers and Poets, in fact, one of the most honored Bards of the Middle Ages.

Since she showed up this year on the Eve of Winter's Solstice, I decided to honor her energy in my life and paint her.

It's sad that crone have been labeled "witches" and so dishonored. It's given all of us older women no place to go as we watch our lives be transformed. I'm grateful to Jung, Kidd, Bolen, Bourgeault, and so many others along the way who have taught me to welcome the crone energy, especially with it's shadow side. Their stories have taught me not to be afraid of darkness, to not be afraid of the inner journey (the journey into the abyss or the underworld), and to rest in the knowing that life changes, and to welcome those changes.

So, here's to Ceridwen, another "dark mother", who has helped me on my journey.

Blessed be.

Life Giving Holy Dove

I actually got to stay home all day Thursday and today, so I hit the studio! Might should have cleaned house--could vacuum and mop, but I really wanted to paint. So, guess what won!?!

I loved this song when I first heard it--and sang it--Sunday:

Spirit of truth and love
life giving holy Dove
speed forth Thy light
move on the water's face
bearing the lamp of grace
and in earth's darkest place
let there be light.

I knew Sunday that I wanted to paint that verse; I'm so glad I had time this week to do it. First time I've had the watercolors out in a very very long time. Still not sure I'm through, but close. Had so much fun painting it.

New Painting - Emerging

I've been working on this for the last couple of days. It's done from one of my SoulCollage(r) cards, and it's painted in acrylics. I thoroughly enjoyed doing it. Inside all of us as women is a young one emerging, as well as an older, hidden one who helps us along: maiden, mother and crone. I also thought of my grandaughter who's definitely emerging, with her mother and her grandmother nearby. We become who we are by standing on the sholders of those who've gone before. I think I heard that somewhere!

Namaste!

PS, a later addition

She Is

Maiden, Mother, Crone
Cocooned, Emerging, Guiding
Daughter, Mother, Grandmother
Seeker, Birther, Wisdom...

She Is

A ROOM OF ONE'S OWN

A ROOM OF ONE’S OWN

I invited him in
Told him this was his house
“Take off your shoes, stay awhile
make yourself at home.”

“Rearrange the furniture if you like.
You can discard whatever’s in your way,
even if it seems precious to me.”

“Here,
here in my heart,
in this space
make a room of your own
to just be.”

He came in, looked around and smiled,
then walked to the mantle in the Great Room.
He noticed something was missing.
He cleared a place,

then put Her picture there.

I was surprised. He was pleased.
He was home.

SABBATICAL, SEVEN YEARS, THE GREAT MOTHER (MY OWN), AND ME

I sat with Jim last night and discussed me taking a “sabbatical” the last two weeks of the year. He “high-5’d” it. Isn’t that the coolest?

Sabbatical – bringing a period of rest to the end of a cycle.

Seven, one of THE prime numbers in every tradition. In my own tradition, the Hebrews considered the number 7 to be the most sacred, the sum total of the most perfect world number (4) and the most perfect spiritual number (3). The number 7 marked “completion”.

My mother moved down here 7 years ago in May. Little did we know how HUGE her move down here was, especially for the 2 of us. Moving Mother here, into my space, has been a welcoming of the Feminine.

Father God (my Daddy) was “out there”, different from me, beyond me, always a “mystery” that in my femaleness I would never be able to measure up to. There is no doubt in my mind that my Daddy loved me, absolutely, but that love was from a distance, the way Father God did—from out there, above and beyond me, a Mystery I would never be able to penetrate, a God I could never pretend to be like. Father of my Spirit.

Mother, on the other hand…my Mother.

Mother God, (my Mother) is God IN me, God in my shape, in my form, speaking with my voice, God revealing my Self to me, God loving me from INSIDE of me. She is Mother of my Soul.

When we asked Mother to come live here with us, little did I comprehend that I would be inviting the Feminine, yes, the Goddess, the Mother of my soul into my psyche. As a new Catholic, I had just met Mary, and I knew I loved her—immensely. And Christmas, 2003, was huge for me. I received what I believe to have been a supernatural gift, the gift of mandalas, for nearly 3 months, pictures and words from deep inside of me, marking me and preparing me for what I know now to be a huge paradigm shift, and I knew even then that those mandalas were a gift to me, not from the Father, but from the Mother.

All that happened 7 years ago, and the changes in our lives have been cataclysmic—perhaps not so much from the outside, although even those are big, but on the inside, as well.

When Mother moved down here, I wanted to be open and honest with this sheltered woman. So I told her the biggest and baddest things about me and my family that I could come up with. “Mother, Jim and I occasionally drink, and I find myself saying bad words pretty often, and Robin’s belly button is pierced.” That was it. I had now come clean.

Good heavens—it’s almost comical now.

In the past seven years, Mother and I have been introduced to all kinds of new things, new words, new thoughts; i.e., alternative life styles, bi-sexuality, polyamory, Burning Man, the Wisdom of Hoboses…my family itself, so beautifully intact in 2003, has crumbled. Two of my sons have gone through psyche shattering divorces. Another son has decided that we’re too much to deal with, so he stays away. I’ve lost two of the very best friends I ever had in my two daughters-in-law. I’ve watched my grandchildren lose their innocence. I’ve seen alcoholism rare its ugly head in the lives of friends and family. Divorce has once again not only ripped my family apart, but it's ripped apart the families of very dear friends. And even now, I'm reminded again how short life can be, and how everything can change in a moment.

That’s outside. Inside? I lost God for two years. I couldn’t figure out what to do with Jesus. I lost my faith. My body froze in fybromalgic pain in November, 2004, and it’s still frozen. I live with it all the time. And, god forbid, I’m on anti-depression medication, they tell me for the pain, but I also know it’s also for the depression.

What has my mother done during all this? She’s done what God does—she’s loved. She’s watched. She’s been there. She’s seen it all and heard it all, and she loves us still. She watched especially close as my image of God was shattered. Father, Son, and Bridegroom no longer work as well as Mother, Daughter, or better yet, Ground of All, Source of Everything, River Beneath the River, etc. God is not so much “out there” speaking from outside, as IN me, speaking to me in my own voice. And from my own creative experiences (also in the last 7 years), God didn’t so much just speak creation into being as birth Creation. Neither did God “finish” in 6 days; She’s still giving birth to an ever-expanding Universe all around us.

Mother (God? Or Millie?) has walked me through the Great Shift in my soul—from evangelical Christian to catholic (universal) Christian. She has watched as my religion, politics and heart has changed. She’s watched as what was very neatly boxed and defined broke into billions pieces—and like Leonard Cohen sings, “That’s how the light gets in.” How has Mother responded? With blessing. Yes, blessing. Mother Millie hasn’t exactly understood (nor have I) or embraced (nor have I) all the changes, but she’s blessed it all. Mother God on the other hand?

Well, that’s what the Feminine does. She takes your hand and circles you round and round, down and down, until you come into the Abyss of your own soul. And she sits with you in the depths of hell until you die—and She stays with you until time for your resurrection.

Then, She says, as a Good Mother does, “Rest Sheila. It’s time to rest your soul and your body. Take a Sabbatical.”

So I will—not so much a “silent retreat” as I first thought, even though The Great Silence sounds delicious and I expect to enter it often, but a Sabbatical, a time of rest after a cycle of energy being spent. I highly recommend it. And I’ll let you know how it goes. I suspect to come home after the first of the year refreshed, healed in mind and spirit (maybe even in body), and ready to tackle the next 7 years of growth.

Selah!

BTW, I'm still a Christian. I still love God the Father, I adore Jesus, both God and man, and I believe in resurrection. It's just all bigger and far more glorious that I first imagined.