Sunday, December 19, 2010
They didn’t tell me of the other road to Spirit;
one more hidden and softer to tread,
paved with fallen leaves and rich dark soil,
the scent of earth heavy on the wind.
Nor did they tell me of Spirits other home;
a mansion of hills and deep valleys,
sheltered by giants that sway in the breeze,
sweeping the sky with brushstrokes of love.
I didn’t know Spirit has another voice;
booming as the surf crashes to shore,
heard in the flow of the winding brook
and in the mighty song of the Wren.
Never was I taught of Spirits true face;
found in the countenance of animals and beasts,
peering from dark places with ancient eyes,
through which I see another way.
There was no lesson that the hand of Spirit;
is as close as the one reaching out,
seeking compassion, finding mercy
in the tender grasp that does not let go.
I learned these things from bowing
to the Elders and the Earth,
wise to the ways of Spirit,
and the yearnings of the young.
I learned that Spirit loves to dance,
to screech and pound the drum.
So now I do, my body submitting
to the wild places within.
I listen now to the call of Spirit
in the sounds of the feral and untamed,
in cries for compassion from the lips of the living,
and on the whispering breath of the dead.
I move across the landscape of Spirit
with ecstasy in my soul,
my heart the drum, my breath the song,
my sweat the elixir of passion.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
As we move into the dark time, I wanted to share a poem I wrote to give heart that the light is always with us.
She stood upon the feverish sands,
with lonely heart,
and empty hands,
as the mists gently offered
damp kisses to her cheeks.
The wind aroused her crimson tresses
to dance like the folds
of silken dresses,
upon the breeze that cooled
her disheartened countenance.
The sea heaved truly before her,
akin to the lover
who once adored her,
when lips did touch and
fingers met skin warm and soft.
With robes sweeping wildly Erin green,
she looked as a shade
in a child’s dream,
which walks on air whispering
As she gave witness the sun did set
upon the crest
of the waves it met,
till darkness cloaked her
within a ravens embrace.
She stood on the shore, her eyes beholden
to the full moon
it’s visage golden,
bleeding pure light
upon her furrowed brow.
And when the moon did reach its’ peak,
standing in waters
cold and deep,
she raised her hands
to the stars above.
“Arianrhod, I call to thee,
Mother of the
pray thee hear my petition
in beautiful Caer Arianrhod.
My lover tis dead, my clan tis scattered,
all that to me
has ever mattered,
has slipped through my hands
which once were strong.
And I know not why I have been cursed.
nor why upon me
this scourge loosed,
in your woven tapestry
that is my life.”
Seen through a tear that doused her eye,
the Silver Wheel
in the sky,
began to spin and
whirled a shining path.
A thread of light did gently land
upon the sodden
and from it’s brilliance
a woman buoyed forth.
Her radiance lit the seaside far,
as round her flamed
the hallowed stars,
that were the celestial
lanterns of Emania.
Then from her mantle did she lift
a silver scepter
with amber tip
and pointed to the
“Turn ye waters from this shore
and from this one
who does implore
from me the answers to
still her heavy grief.
For I shall not to her bestow
the answers she fosters
within her soul,
nor will your waters
give her release.
No coward stands here.”
Anon the waters did recede
and from the woman
took their leave,
till her sodden form
stood bathed in Goddess light.
Then the Mother looked upon her face
with tender eye, and
with soothing grace
Her ancient voice
drifted melodically to her ear.
“The lyceum in Emania holds
a thousand warriors,
brave and bold
whom answered the call to
battle with their lives.
And as I move through the passageway,
I ask each one
what they would say,
now that they have left behind
what they held dear.
Nary one has spoken yet
of suffering, bitterness,
Instead they speak of gratitude
for having been.
So listen Daughter to what I say
within my light
you shall find your way,
you need only make the journey
to who you are.”
Then the Goddess disappeared
and with Her took
all the woman feared
sweet warmth replaced the coldness
of her soul.
Turning now toward the path
that would take her home
she heard a laugh
and knew she would never again
Monday, September 20, 2010
When I feel free I can hear my own voice. I can let my tongue form words that speak what is true. There is an unlocking deep within, somewhere near my heart that opens a gateway to my Soul. When I feel free I do not confuse my voice with the voice of Spirit and my desires are no longer my own.
It does not matter where I sit or what surrounds me as I write – when I feel free I am everywhere. I am not a profound writer; I am not well versed in my language. Sometimes I cannot grasp a word and the feeling falls away. When I feel free none of that matters for I feel and that is enough.
I am continually discovering who I am – I love the journey I have taken; a journey to freedom.
I hear a crickets call – it is soothing with its rhythm and predictability. I see a flock of tiny birds darting here and there and I long to know connection like that. Tiny insects skim along the surface of the water, changing its course in their own small way.
My mistakes in this life are my greatest stories; complete with all the drama and the lessons of the fables. As a child I believed I was meant for something great and now I know I am. Living is a mighty and courageous act.
The critics’ voice within me may not be silent but it matters not, when I feel free.
I know I am good enough for Spirit.
Experiencing the expansiveness of freedom is as simple as surprising yourself by breaking out of the predictability you have structured in your life. Take off from work early and visit a park, explore the beauty of the natural world or walk in the rain and smell the fresh scent of Earth.
Freedom is within you, you only need to choose to release your wild self and run with the untamed.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
My sadness moved me to the sunrise today.
As I watched this most beautiful spectacle;
the impossible rise of fire in the sky,
I was not so impressed.
Sure, it was magnificent; the deep orange haze lighting the top of the mountains,
then the brilliant yellow orb bravely taking its rightful place.
I thought to myself, in that fleeting way, “I should do that.”
As my face warmed I closed my eyes and you were there beside me.
Ears perked up, deep dark eyes looking out over the ocean;
both of us gazing in the same direction.
I felt your small soft body rest against my hip and
sensed your rise of excitement at being on the beach.
Content for now to sit by my side but preparing to move beyond me…
there, into the horizon, to a place I cannot follow,
there, into the mystery, to be welcomed by this glorious sun.
Your life has been bigger then this fire could ever be;
more beautiful than this sky with its blue and gold,
more miraculous then the rising of the Sun.
How could any event move me after having known your perfect devotion?
How will any grand occurrence ever touch me again?
You have been enough and I have been blessed by your mighty love.
Your tail wags, your eyes squint into the sun
and I know it is time for you to go.
I will not keep you here;
even though every cell in my pounding heart cries out against releasing you.
I watch your small legs, sturdy now and sure, navigate the sand
and I am brought to a measure of peace to see no tremor in your steps.
I want to stop you with words, a million thank you’s for your life,
but there are not enough and it is time.
I see you - young again - your fur soft and shining,
reflecting the light.
As you turn to look at me for the last time
there is no gray upon your sweet face.
Then…you disappear into the glare of a sun that could never be
as magnificent as you.
Goodbye dear friend.
May I one day be the woman you saw in me.
May you bravely take your rightful place in the lap of God.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Morrigan’s Yew grows strong and tall
She shelter’s me in the dark
Beneath her branches I softly fall
to be grounded by her roots.
For though my journey is made alone,
walked both in day and night,
She guides me to where all is shown,
My truth brought to the light.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Just past 5 am
I am watching the sun rise over the mountains and ocean.
It is warm on my face, this sun,
and the smell of the sea is rich and strong.
All around me is the song of many birds.
I am alone here.
No one walks the beach at this hour,
so I survey a shore line free from human interference
– except my own.
I say a prayer to Great Spirit; a prayer for my family – all of them.
I pray that one day we know love and peace and healing – together.
Even as the doubt rises within me
I know how strong the hand of Spirit is
and that all things are possible.
A man now walks the beach.
He faces East and raises his arms
as if to embrace the fire in the sky –
perhaps he did.
I love where I live.
It has been a hard time.
The pain of my family finally spoken;
truth shared and denied, anger erupting, tears released.
I love these people, all of them,
and I grieve even as my own anger rises –
rises because of the grief old and big.
I have never been comfortable with it,
have always known we deserve better,
have never been able to get to “better”.
I am releasing so many dreams and expectations,
allowing for the possibility of an unremarkable life.
It may be that I will never write that book,
live in the home with huge windows in the forest,
save my family.
When I feel the letting go there is sadness
but there is also more room for breath.
Perhaps I will only ever accomplish that…
Breathing into me.
Me being enough.
I have seen the fear in my family, all of us, fear I know so well.
The fear that drives us to clutch to what we know,
cling to it as though it will save us,
although it never has.
I realize that we have never feared things dying –
instead things living.
But we have mighty hearts and live anyways.
I listen to waves come to shore,
to angry crows claiming food,
to the gentle foot falls of a man walking on stones.
This life is full and beautiful –
as am I…
and that man DID embrace the Sun.
And I am breathing into me.
Friday, May 28, 2010
35 years of bleeding,
a wonder; how much has been shed!
The cleansing, renewal and letting go,
Earth’s magic alive in me.
Some say it is my most powerful time,
some say it is deeply unclean…
For me it is the black velvet edge of sleep –
leaning into soulful darkness –
hugging my own body
with tender memories.
I know it is coming to an end,
soon the time will arrive when it will not
and there will be grief
You see – this is how a woman ages;
our breasts – from which you fed
on which you lay your weary head
listened to the ‘thump thump’ of this strong heart -
begin to wilt
like the keening woman,
who falls yet is fierce in her sorrow;
passionate still, but tired.
Hair begins to grow in places unfamiliar –
it tickles and softens the lines in our skin,
makes fuzzy the places that once were clear.
The waters of our bodies sometimes trickle,
like a retiring mountain stream,
when we are full with joy or rage,
our lives rich with feeling;
this moistness evidence of our passion.
Silver shines in our hair,
curls up close to our skull.
I believe wise women who came before me
live in each one.
They whisper to me and we snort and giggle.
Sometimes we shriek.
This is how a woman ages
Our bodies returning to the earth,
plainly reaching down to Her.
Our blood tranquil – our sensuality nestled
deeply in wombs that no longer shed.
This is how women have always aged.
Without pills and surgeries and plastic baggies
hopelessly trying to mimic these soft swinging full breasts.
I will age as my mother, my grandmother, my foremothers,
as all women; with some sadness and with some relief,
carried in this magnificent body -
bent and stooped -
until it is time to turn my face
and make my journey home.
By Deborah May 2010
(image by Durga Bernhard)
Saturday, May 22, 2010
I looked into the mirror one day
and saw the softness of my hair.
My breasts sat high, my eyes shone clear,
my skin was smooth and fair.
And somewhere in my memory
past time and spoken word
from a place of new beginning
a gentle voice was heard
Look and I will show you
the colour of your love
the orange hue of passion
and the green of perfect trust.
A maiden I may be
but secrets in my eyes I see
and I know that it is me
who is hope for humanity
I looked into the mirror one day
and noticed the widening of my hips.
My breasts were round, my hair was wild
there was a fullness to my lips.
And somewhere in my memory
past time and spoken word
from a place of fruitful healing
a loving voice was heard
Look and I will show you
the creations you can birth
from the pain and bliss of living
come your offerings to Earth
A mother I may be
and from my core I give to thee
the healing that is me
that my children may be free.
I looked into the mirror one day
and saw the dimness in my eyes
my breasts had sagged, my hair was gray
my face was etched with lines.
And somewhere in my memory
past time and spoken word
from a place of winters stillness
a wise old voice was heard
Look and I will show you
the bounty of your harvest;
the joys of mine bestowed to thee,
as you return to Goddess.
A crone I may be
and with my voice I do decree
come to know all three
the Maiden, Mother, Crone in thee.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
The saying “become one with nature” makes no sense to me. One does not become one with nature any more then the ocean becomes one with the bay. They are one and the same – a continuous flow – one to the other. So are we. We are nature. Although we talk of “returning” to nature, what we are really doing is realizing more of our Self, discovering aspects outside of us that we hold within.
The blood of our bodies is our life force; nourishing us, replenishing us. As blood flows through our veins it carries the life force within that sustains us. Blood is our oceans, our rivers and creeks that carve a path within to the heart of who we are.
Our bones and skin are our foundation and protection. These make us strong; able to withstand the physical challenges of life. They grant us the ability to hold and to carry, to resist and to yield. Like the earth, rocks and trees; we are solid, able to carry the weight of our bodies and the desires of our hearts.
Each breath we take is like the wind sweeping across the earth, cleansing and clearing away what debris it encounters. Our breath is the most powerful of our reflexes, each second from birth to death it sustains us, feeds us. And like a gentle warm breeze our breath can calm us and soothe our soul.
Within all of us there is the fire of Spirit; the passion that leads us to love, to defend, to change and to create. Our spirit is the essence of who we are; the real Self beyond the doing. Spirit is the being that we are.
Our Spirit is present in all other elements within – it rides on the waves of our bodies; flowing through our blood and feeding our life force. Spirit rests deep in our bones and on the surface of our skin; igniting our powerful selves to stand firm or to bend and embrace. Spirit is carried on the winds of our breath and in the sound of our voice. Connecting with breath will always remind us that Spirit resides within.
We ARE nature, no matter if we live among the trees of a forest or the skyscrapers of a city – we are the rivers, the trees and rocks, the cleansing fresh air and the Spirit of the natural world. What we do to nature, we do to our Selves.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
I sought knowledge all my life,
all my life I sought knowledge.
And with each thing I learned
I believed it to be true.
Each new truth became a root
and anchored me more strongly
to where I stood.
And I believed this to be good.
Even when I was unable to move,
my roots so deep in my foundation of truth.
Even when the world turned around me and people came and went,
I stayed where I was,
in my truth.
My truth did not accept the invitation
although I saw this occurring around me.
And there I stood.
Before long my roots
began to crack the foundation
they were buried in.
The earth began to break up around them,
screaming for air and moisture and nourishment.
Exposed now, my roots began to wither.
Until one day
I easily toppled,
with just a slight breeze.
I was left
Truth cannot stand not being fed.
And now I think that perhaps truth is meant
to be less like the trees
and more like the breeze.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Everything is Spirit and there is a Supreme Creator.
There is no evil. What appears to be evil is a lack of compassion.
My greatest accomplishment will be when I come to love all of humanity unconditionally.
To really give I must give past my comfort zone.
To honour Spirit is to honour the path placed before us by walking it.
Straying off the path is natural in this human condition.
Every soul desires to be in a state of love.
What I most fear is what I most need to embrace.
Healing begins in my own heart.
The greatest among us are those who live compassion by extending it to those who are seen as deserving it the least.
My path has been exactly as it has needed to be.
Creator is truly loving.
All emotion comes from Creator and is our spiritual voice.
The dark is a time of great disrobing, shedding and revelation.
My story is not important.
What I say is not important.
What I do with these hands and heart is vital.
Aging is a blessing and being born a woman is a sacred honour.
There is wisdom that comes from oppression.
I know who I am and in that knowing there is great mystery.
I will never stop unraveling the layers of me.
My Spirit is alive and abundant.
I have all I need inside this container.
Holding the hand of my sisters and my brothers is a hallowed privilege.
I have enough time.
Monday, February 22, 2010
I lay in the centre of an open field…
bordered by trees that stretch and lift their arms toward the sky.
The sun is high and the day is hot.
I lay supported and held,
melting into you…
You of greatest beauty; smell of earth, taste of salt,
voice of thunder and hair of fire.
You who guides me,
moving the earth with one twitch of your finger.
You who washes me with your tears,
shapes me with your breath.
I lay in this field and my mind is full
with thoughts of the women of my time;
running from themselves,
from their memories from their true desires.
I weep for all the women in my time that cannot find their voice,
cannot raise it to sing your praises or scream out your rage!
They run from their bodies, Goddess,
and are kept from knowing the gifts of pleasure
and of power you give.
I lie in this field and hear your music;
drums that beat and pulse
as does my belly and my heart.
I mourn all the blood that is spilled without honour or meaning.
Blood of the women of my time in countries far away
and in places near.
I grieve for these women while I lay under your hot sun,
sweat trailing between my breasts
and the heat of rage tingling up my spine.
I have been these women….
I feel you coming before I see you;
Air expands and Earth trembles,
Fire in my Spirit ignites and Water floods my eye’s…
O Goddess…I see you coming to me!
I cannot move as I watch you moving closer…
your body huge and round and naked.
Your ample breasts swaying as you move your massive hips,
your thighs rippling with each powerful step you take.
Your belly round and strong and full.
You are all that is fierce and good and terrifying and real and
I AM IN AWE.
Goddess know that I am yours forever.
You squat beside me…
Your yoni alive, open and red as lava.
You grin at me and in your smile is everything I need.
Your eye’s go on forever,
your lips hold back secrets of millennia.
Goddess you show me what Woman is.
That is all…
you stand and simply move away;
one moment solid as rock beside me,
the next like a veil of cloud.
As you go my heart is filled…
I have never known a love like this.
I whisper into the Air that is you,
into the Earth that is you,
my words on fire with promise…
I will not forget….
Not my sisters
And this is how She rises.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Will this war ever end?
It has been so long and peace seems
no more than a dream.
The anger and hatred are as hot and dry as the wind that blows over the sand.
It is only through the grace of God that weapons will be laid down.
God's grace is long in coming.
Do these World Leaders not know that there is no such thing
as making ready for God?
For God is here and to be lived each day,
through every breath,
in every tear.
Will these children find safety and shelter from fear,
or know the blessing of being held to a warm and protective body?
Tired eyes yearn to close;
precious heads seek a soft lap and a hand to stroke soft hair.
These are the living angels, these witnesses to terror.
You are so beautiful.
Here….let me hold you in my arms,
wipe the dust from your wet face.
I will rock you to sleep, my body your shelter
and no sound will touch you,
no flash of light will wake you,
you need not clutch to your own heart.
I will sing to you a song that will carry you to dreamland,
and you can play in the warmth and soft light of the sun.
Remember always that this is truly all God wants for you;
this beauty, this sanctuary.
War is not of God,
but you are,
and God weeps for your fear and loves you.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
My Grandfather is great and bright,
his heart is strong and his spirit shines.
He teaches me with great patience and wisdom
about the ways of my people,
lost in a sea of shame, but finding their way.
He fills my heart with compassion for those who forgot
the ways of the Earth; who wandered
great distances, settled in foreign lands,
rushed to conquer and spill blood.
He say’s in whispers
– a voice full of tears –
“As long as there is breath within,
you can be the memory of peace
and the possibility of sanctuary.”
My Grandfather warms my face,
lights the darkest places
just by wishing it to be so.
I listen to his soft voice so that no words
are lost to me
and when there are no words
I sit in his presence and listen another way.
My skin absorbs his teachings and he shares…
“I rise every morning and with each new day
offer you the gift to go another way.”
I tell my Grandfather of all the times
I have risen
only to fall.
the Earth shakes a little,
He says it matters
that I rise.
I rest my spirit in my Grandfathers’ loving light
and fall into soft warmth and gentle song.
There are no more words,
only the enormous sound of love
and the silent calling of my Ancestors.
I turn my face to the many
and welcome them into my heart.
I have found my tribe.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Embrace your weeping heart,
love it into existence,
the tears washing your soul
like showers from heaven.
Do not apologize for the time it takes.
Throw your hands in the air,
push your voice from your belly,
until angels hear the call of your wild self.
Greedily accept the caress of feathers
upon your dry and aching throat.
Walk hard upon the earth,
each footstep a commitment…
I AM HERE I AM HERE…
Awaken your Mother,
with stomping and wailing,
until she takes your heart in Her fist,
a clutch tender but stanch,
that will never let you go.
And listen with great concentration
to the wind
to the fire
to the sea
for within each of these one can hear
the fierce and the innocent
laughter of God.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Happy New Year to all! I trust the holiday season was all you needed to refresh and renew for 2010. I am very excited to write you with some updates and share exciting news with you from Divine Source. Forgive this post for being a bit more lengthy but I am sure you will find information of interest.
Divine Source is offering a School for Shamanic Practice. The School is named The Circle of the Whispering Earth. Through the Circle a 13 month Shamanic Practitioner apprenticeship is being offered, beginning in February 2010. The COWE has 3 main goals:
1. To build sacred and supportive community amongst peoples interested in honouring and remembering their connection to the Earth upon which they live.
2. To enhance the learning of shamanism by connection to the land upon which the student lives (as did our ancient ancestors) and to hear the unique voice of that land.
3. To honour the Ancestors and open to their teachings through connection to Spirit and accessing otherworld.
This is an exciting opportunity to delve deeply into your own Shamanic calling and learn to hear the Earth as she whispers to you. If you are interested, please send me an email for a detailed overview; including course details, timelines and cost. You can also visit: divinesource.ca
Also, Divine Source is offering a second Women’s Shamanic Healing Circle! In this circle we will utilize the sacred journey, sacred creativity, ritual and sharing in order to deeply connect to our healing path. You will come to develop a deep relationship with Spirit, honour your own inner wisdom and celebrate your journey with other women. Beginning February 9, 2010 we will meet every two (2) weeks, ending on May 18, 2010 (8 Circles in total).
Please read what this participant has to say about her experience in the Circle:
“Effective Healing becomes meaningful and results lasting when we are in the hands of an authentic Shamanic Healer; one who has done the work of healing her own wounds. I have felt safe and supported in Deborah’s hands and this has fostered a new level of trust for me. It has been an honour and a joy to participate in this group of courageously strong women, myself included. Our willingness to bare our souls in the desire to heal new and ancient wounds is a testimony to the levels of love and trust generated within the group. This particular healing path has touched me to my core; as it continues I realize the stirring it has generated is part of my soul’s awakening - a journey that has no end.” ~ Shannon Wills
As always, the monthly Shamanic Ceremony and Drumming Circles are continuing with our first one for 2010 on January 30th. We will be at a bigger location due to the growth of the Circle so please let me know if you are interested in attending for more details. The circle begins promptly at 7pm. More information can be found on my website: www.divinesource.ca