My first steps on the land were filled with familiarity. The ancient rocks felt like old friends. Through the shifting seasons on the earth and in my life, I returned here again and again. Wandering far from the road and marked trails, I instinctively followed the contours of hills and sagebrush meadows. Welcoming the quieting. Flourishing in my belonging in the open space of relationship that wild places so generously share.
On a warm summer afternoon, I felt drawn to the land for ceremony. Gathering up medicine items, gift offerings, food and water, I walked along the arroyo and through the trees to find the place calling to me. I said hello to the soaring ravens, vultures, and hawks, and soaked in the pine-scented air. I relished the peace of the towering red rock mesas and the embrace of the turquoise sky.
Unexpectedly, I felt the sensation of others joining me. Their presence was visceral, though unseen. Elk. A thundering herd of elk gathered in spirit, circling around me. A heightened intensity and awakeness filled the air. The elk had come as a council of Grandmothers.
The Grandmothers surrounded me with their loving, pure awareness. So clear in their focus. Unwavering in their purpose. I couldn’t pretend not to notice. The ancestors had come. And they had something to show me.
Honor the feminine. This, said the Grandmothers, was my sacred task.
Honor the feminine. Even in a world that tells her to stay small. To silence her voice. To distrust her point of view. To hide what she knows, sees and feels.
Honor the feminine. Even in a world that harms the feminine. That threatens her existence. That says her injuries and woundings don’t really matter: it’s deserved, it’s her fault, it’s just part of the deal.
Honor the feminine. Even in a world that objectifies her. And expects her to objectify herself. Judging her body. Everything about her should be other than it is – a different size or shape or texture or color – in order for her to be worthy of love.
Honor the feminine. Even in a world built out of either/or options: victim or victimizer, oppressed or oppressor, power-over or powerless.
Held in the center of the circle, I could feel the Grandmothers calling me to take a closer look at my inner world. Because the outside world will not change if I keep carrying it around inside me.
The Grandmothers were calling me to untangle from the lies. To see with the clarity of the Ancient Ones’ eyes. To reclaim the love. To center in my heart, deeply rooted in who I am in a vast field of relationship. To feel this in my bones. To walk this with every step. Creating circles within circles within circles of relationship.
Reclaiming dreams. Awakening potentials. Growing love from the inside out. Holding wide-open space for healing and belonging. Seeing beyond the seen. Remembering wholeness. Relishing the mystery. Weaving new webs and unweaving the old. Nourishing the continuance of life.
Honor the feminine.
The feminine honoring the feminine.
This was my sacred task.