I am in training. These past two weekends, surrounded by folks with hearts for heads and hands for hearts, I walked with a jar of water, filling up, pouring out, filling up again. You know this water? Nourishment. The one that signifies flowing–flowing like essence like honey like ambrosia. I am in training to be a Shanti Volunteer. To sit with sweetness and non-judgement, to be a Container. A Holder. Spacious.
Each day, Spirit dusts off a new brick in my path, the one I am creating, the one that’s always been there, obscured. All of this can coexist. All of my pieces and parts. I told Andrea that time felt so flimsy and relative. I can fall deeply into a day and skip lightly across months.
I looked around at the skills I’ve collected and realized that the pieces are all stacked and now I can build! All these years of scraping and struggling! Why have I been thrashing about in universities that squeeze and hex me? Why have I been bleeding from one minimum-wage job to the next? Someone bring me a tourniquet! I am a healer. I give counsel and love and hold up mirrors to show my community how powerful they are. I read the Tarot. I create ritual and sacred space and rites of passage. I am an ordained minister of SHES (Spiritual Healers and Earth Stewards) and Priestess of Artemis–the Huntress, the Protector, the Wild One.
Artemis is one of the Virgin goddesses, but virgin like the original Greek meaning. Virgin like “whole and intact unto herself.” Lacking nothing. Perfect as she is. Like you are. Like I am. I feel my own quickening coming on, throbbing with the lub-dub, lub-dub of the pulse of it all, of the Great Mother, of the global village or whatever you want to call it. Infinitely small and infinitely vast. But everything circling around the same center. All the humming converges in this: Inhale. rest. Exhale. rest.
Concentric. We share the same center.