Teachings from The Mother Lodge: Listen To The Worlds of GrandMother

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Listen To The Worlds of GrandMother

Trees talk. They not only talk, they sing. Like a choir they ride the rise and fall of chords on the wind. They sing great masterpieces written by the sylvan equivalents of Mozart or Bach or the B52’s.

I love to listen for each individual voice, pick out the moaners and screamers and get the feel of the sedate older trees that hold the undertones, the bagpipe drones, the solid notes.

I wait for the wind to come and open my voice, to activate my dreams, to blow away the dreams of others that contaminate my ability to hear my own inner Bach or B52’s.

If I listen well, if I listen too long I get carried off in the knowing that each leaf is a voice and I am listening to millions. The sound of the wind and trees communing with each other becomes intimate and even erotic. I am in the place where words no longer matter and tree talk is much sweeter than anything I have to say.

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Make Me An Oak Tree

Great Mother,
I pray to become a sword,
named Doubt-Slayer,
named Fear-Killer.

I pray to become
the standing rock
the bursting seed
the bleeding heart
the crystal skull
and
the medicine pipe.

Great Mother,
make me an Oak Tree.
Rooted in your moist decay
and grainy black heart
of abundant Life
reaching
down to Fire.

Great Mother,
Make me an Oak Tree.
Branches rising and feeding
every leaf
as it journeys to Light
to dance
to flame
and to die.

Great Mother,
Make me an Oak Tree
that bridges
Earth and Sky,
grounding and flight,
body and heart,
heart and mind,
mind and spirit,
ancient-wise and infant-green.

Great Mother,
make me an Oak Tree.

Old Bones

Curled in and hunkered down
I am warmed by a fire
that I feed with old bones.

Earth brown toes
draw pictures in the dirt
of flying Hawk shapes
and etch poems in
some ancient language
remembered.

It is my Rosetta Stone*.

Decoded,
split open,
pierced in the chest
and bent straight again,
I have been forged in fire
and hammered into a
sword woman who weeps.

I am in the river.
I float away watching endless blue.
For a moment I smell the salty scent
of dissolving into everything,
of joining and disappearing
into someone I don’t know.

I am afraid
so I think about hiding
in the hedgerow
when I was small.
I remember the voices
I heard when I closed my eyes
and the pictures they showed me
of light patterns and
giant burning spheres.

Now I am a floating woman grown
who burns bones
and thinks in poems,
who writes letters to God in the dirt
and moves downriver
past the deadwood
to the sea.

The Way That Witches Were

The witches of the past gather outside my window at night,
they follow me across my yard when it’s dark and chatter in the herb garden. My throat grows scratchy and sore from the not telling of all we have to say.

I am a witch*.
I am a witch in the way that witches were
before anthropologists and wanna-be’s
began to define them
so they would have something to argue about.

I am a witch in the way that witches were
before anthropologists and wanna-be’s
began to define them
so they could become an authority on something
they were to afraid to become.

I am a witch in the way that witches were
before it became a catch phrase
for slightly different women,
( also called colorful and eccentric )
and those running from their Christian parents,
(without ever really knowing Christianity themselves,)
in order to find a sense of self,
a club to join,
an archetype to cling to.

I am politically incorrect.

I am a Witch in the way that witches were
when everything was a face of Spirit
and all things
and all thoughts
were fuel for the cauldron of Life.

I am not a spell caster.
I have no interest in snagging you a lover
or making you rich.
I bring the babies, I help the dying,
I do what I can for the sick.
I revere the rights of women
without ever forgetting the rights of men.
I remember what matters and
I know the face of the enemy.

. . . and speaking of the enemy, please understand this :
I do not hate Jesus and love Satan.
I do not hate any Lamp of God and there is no Satan,
only dark holes in wounded humans
filled with fear and blinding shadows.

I know I frighten people
but I am only a candle
made from the leftover bits of beeswax
that once were my ancestors.

I am three braided candles.
One of God
one of Goddess
and one of Self
whose flames join and burn as
one
one
one.

I know Power,
and respect it as an ally.
I do not own it or try to become it.
I know Surrender in the same way.
I know that Knowledge is Sacred
and that great care must be taken of it and with it.

True Craft is born of Knowing Sacred Law
and never forsaking it
for the laws of culture or society.
It is Alchemical* in every sense of the word.

It takes many years to learn these things
and if you already know them you will understand.
If you do not,
and if you want to
then keep praying,
keep journeying
and perhaps you will find an Elder to guide you.
-But always remember:
they are very few
and
very far between.
Be wise in what you choose
and give no allegiance to humans,
only to Spirit.

The witches of the past gather outside my window at night,
they follow me across my yard when it’s dark and chatter in the herb garden. My throat grows scratchy and sore from the not telling of all we have to say.

With Wings

On my Womb there are Paintings.

Images of Women with
woad*- blue Crescent Moons
on soft foreheads.
Dark Moon dancing and
firelight waving into ancient tree tops.

... of squatting births
and of Burnings*.

I carry them close through the grocery store,
past the rows of “Stay Free”
and “Always with Wings”.

I sing inside myself
“If dreams were Thunder and
lightning was desire
this old house would have burnt down
a long time ago.
Make me an Angel
that flies from Montgomery...”

I recite a mantra to myself:
Stay Free Always,
Angel,
with Wings.

*Quote: Angel From Montgomery
by John Prine

For Cait as She Begins Her Moon Blood Years

Guard well your mind.
Fill it with Visions.
Feed it with knowledge.
Open it with keys of
intuition and discernment.

Guard well your heart.
Do not place yourself where you must become hard
and do not lose sight,
that lovers and children
are beautiful to give to . . .
but it is the SisterHood that fills you.

Guard well your body.
Choose carefully who touches you,
who enters you,
who lives with you,
for you will carry them always
in some dark part of Self
that forever remembers.

Guard well your womb.
Let it nurture only the dreams that You choose
and cleanse only yourself
and that which has your blessing.

Guard well your loyalty.
Live your life solely for yourself
while constantly preparing
to one day be the wise woman
who will tell the young girls
what it means to have lived well.

Guard well your freedom to choose.
So that when you are old
you will be a walking museum
of tender giving,
kind and respectful lovers,
and wisdom earned
through mistakes honestly made.

Guard well your soul and self.
For there are spirit sellers
and soul grabbers
and self haters
who may look like friends
or lovers
or teachers
or gurus
who long to pull you in
and have you tell them they run the world . . .

They don’t.
You run the world.

Guard well this Self
that you have been Blessed to carry
to become
to teach
to enthrall
to frighten
to love.

Place your trust in Law
and the
Great
Golden
Giving
Guru
Goddess
of Self.

A Claiming Mark

If you can pinpoint the place
where the pain lives
and travel to it’s center
you will find a boat.

It may be nordic
or a dugout canoe
or a slave ship
or even the Barge to Avalon
but it will be there. . .

and if you are brave enough
to step aboard
you can travel across
and through
and into the dark places
where the Women of Since Always wait...

You can see them tattooed
and ritually scarred.
You can see them birth
and grow old
and die
and still remain.

If you are ready
you will turn around
and look through the
cave’s yoni* red opening
to see your own
Cesearean scars
and pierced ears
and aging in the glossy glare of magazine covers
and the promise of Death.

If you are willing
you will feel the hands of those women
settle on your shoulders and
mark your heart with a claiming mark
that is timeless and telling.

and when you return
to this now
and this place
if you look carefully
in the mirror
or water’s surface
or scrying* bowl
you will see
a tiny crescent moon
in the center of your eye.

Luminous Yellow, Velvet Green

When I was very small
I knew that God
was the way the tree in our backyard
slanted at just the right angle
so that if I was barefoot I could
make it to the tree house
without my big brother’s help.

I knew that God was the leaves
that hid me there
so I could watch the neighborhood dramas and games
in splendid solitude.
Just me and God,
just me in God
and
God in me.

Everyone said that our church was the house of God
but I knew that God
was the feeling inside me
when my Father opened the great carved wooden door
and I heard the wonderful
click clacking of my sunday best shoes
on the gray slate floors echo
and fill the sanctuary.

I used to sneak away from Miss Connie’s
room to the empty chapel and
stand in the colors of the sun
shining through the stained glass.
I knew that God
was the rainbow lights
on my patent leather shoes,
my white lace edged socks
and
my small dancing fingers.

When I was very small I knew that God
was in the hedgerow
so often filled with tiny lights
that ran beside our house
and when the wind blew
in gentle waves over the beach grass,
Witches Grass they called it,
I knew it was God’s breath that did it.

Then,
one day
in a dark garage that smelled of
car grease
and
gasoline
and
dirty rags
and
stale aftershave
a neighborhood man
picked me up and set me on his work bench.
He pushed me back
and held me down with a yellowed hand.
He mumbled threats
and
hurt me in unfathomable ways.
His dry fingers
probed and stabbed
at places inside my body
I did not yet know I had.

For the first time,
I left my body.
Not enough to escape
but enough to see
from the dirty window
rows and rows
of bright yellow tulips
at the house next door.

God was there
but
God was on the other side of the glass.

I didn’t cry.
I watched the luminous yellow and velvet green
wave at me
and it was enough
to keep the thread from snapping
but not enough
to stop the planting
of a cold black seed
in my tiny womb.

A tumor grew from the seed
and each small shame,
each childhood fear
and school age failure
caused it to grow and grow
until
I had to press God down
tight and small
and hide God away
in a locked up place
with the key swallowed down
hidden safely in my stomach.
...and the key stayed there.
...and the box stayed locked for a very long time.

Tonight
I lay alone
in candlelight
and a state of wonder.

I see that
years and years of earth and sky,
the nursing of babies,
the singing, the teaching, the writing,
the soft watery eyes of old women
and the warm breath and fiery hands of lovers
have all worked
and worked
on that lock until finally
the determination to love against impossible odds
the willingness to face the yearning
full hearted and empty minded
broke open the box.
Stained glass colors flood the room
and I remember.

I remember when God
did not have a name
or a place,
or the superimposed face
of an absent lover.

I remember
not Spirit
or enlightenment
or dharma
or even The Force
but the God before words
the God of my childhood.
Luminous Yellow and Velvet Green

The God of yellow tulips,
of warm bark,
of Sunday shoes
and
the bright certain flame
that warms from the inside out.

Gloria and Kyrie,
Majuba Orisa,
Aho all that is Wakan.
Be drawn down into this circle Sister Moon
for the light you reflect this night
is mine.

mso/1999

* * * * * BLOG GLOSSARY * * * * *

~ALCHEMY~
the process of bringing elements or ingredients (both physical and energetic) together in the correct ways and in the correct amounts so that the resulting whole is greater than the sum of it’s parts, so that a new ‘something’ is formed or born.
~BRUJA / BRUJO~
female practitioner of Latin American indigenous folk medicine and healing
~BURNINGS~
commonly referred to as The Inquisition. Beginning in the 1100's "The Burning Times" was a period of massive torture, persecution and murder of non-catholics sanctioned and orchestrated by the Catholic Church. This holocaust (not taught about much in schools unlike others) is still shrouded in misinformation and emotionalism on both sides.
~DRAGON'S BREATH~
the forces of nature; the forces of nature harnessed and influenced by a practitioner of Magickal and Alchemical Arts
~GNOSTIC~
One who believes him/herself to know. Gnosis is described as a transcendent as well as mature understanding. It indicates direct spiritual experiential knowledge and intuitive knowledge, rather than that from rational or reasoned thinking. The word AGNOSTIC comes from this root and conversely means not to know or to be unsure of.
~INTENTION~
(1) the desire to make a change
(2) the desire to align one’s personal will with the design (will) of the Great Spirit also spoken of as Wakan Tanka or God
~INTENDING~
(1) the planning of how one will make a change
(2) the act of changing one’s life in order to align one’s personal will with the design (will) of the Great Spirit
~INTENT~
(1) your desired result from any given action
(2) your Soul’s plan for your evolutionary development
(3) Intent; The Will or Design of The Great Spirit or God
~MAGICK~
the process of intentional transformation. In this context it is often spelled with a k at the end to distinguish it from stage magic
~MEDICINE~
the natural gift or blessing that all things carry both in physical and spiritual realms
~ MEDICINE WOMAN / MEDICINE MAN ~
practitioner of Amerindian indigenous folk medicine and healing
~MEMORY~
the ability to access knowing from other times and places, the absolute KNOWING of one’s self as a timeless Spirit Being
~MYSTERY SCHOOLS~
the teachings of keys to mystical understanding and Law. There have been many kinds / types all over the planet
~NAGUAL~
(see tonal) the spirit and energetic world. All that exists that we do not normally experience with our five common senses. The term Nagual can also refer to a person who has gained the ability to create change in the 'spirit world' with as much (or possibly more) strength as the change they are able to create in the physical or tonal world.
~PURIFICATION LODGE~
commonly incorrectly referred to as a Sweat Lodge. Some of the correct names are; Purification Lodge, Rainbow Lodge, Stone People’s Lodge or an Innipi. It is a small dome shaped structure used for Sacred Ceremonies of cleansing and healing. Also used to prepare for other ceremonies or events of great import.
~REACTION VS. RESPONSE~
reaction is action without prior thought or deliberation, it is programmed and feels “automatic. Response is action taken with discernment of the present circumstances and the possibilities for impact that action may initiate; as in response-ability.
~ROSETTA STONE~
a stone tablet found in 1799 carved with 3 languages including ancient Greek which allowed Europeans to decipher hieroglyphics for the first time.
~SACRED POINT OF VIEW~
the foundational understanding we have within us of the Universe as a vast and expansive playground. This point of view expands and changes as we heal, become whole and gain greater and greater connection to Spirit. If we are growing we are constantly shifting and changing our Sacred Point of View.
~SCRYING~
the use of crystal balls, dishes of water, surface of water within wells and many other tools to assist one to see beyong 'mundane' reality
~see (non-capitals) / See (capitals)~
seeing; looking at the ‘mundane’ using only the physical eyes
Seeing; Using all the senses, both tonal and nagual, to fully ascertain the reality of the present moment
~SHAMAN~
A word meaning, literally, self healed mad man or woman. Shamans do not belong to any one culture or system of knowledge. The personal and spiritual healing & integration undertaken by a shaman is what determines the difference between a mad person caught in webs of cultural induced confusion and a self healed Healer with the ability to walk outside the box of normal awareness.
~SHAMANIC~
having to do with Shamanism which is the art of using both tonal and nagual skills to bring about intentional change.
~SOUTHERN SEERS~
a lineage of Naguals and Shamans from Central and South America
~TONAL~
(see nagual) the physical world. All that exists that we normally experience with our five common senses
~WITCH~
male or female practitioner of European indigenous folk medicine and healing. The term witch does not imply evil or satanic - in fact satanism and the devil were concepts invented by Christian "politicians" and therefore did not exist before the christian church.
~WOAD~
A BLUE DYE USED FOR TATTOOING BY THE PRECELTIC INHABITANTS OF WHAT IS NOW SCOTLAND, ENGLAND AND WALES

Teachings from The Mother Lodge