The Goddess is Alive in Every Woman
Copyright 1999 by Susun Weed
The True Story of How She Came to Be, How She Disappeared, and How She Returned
In the beginning, everything began, as it always does, with birth. The Great Mother of All gave birth, and the Earth began to breathe. Again, and again, and again, the Great Mother gave birth. And the plants began to breathe and the animals began to breathe and the two-legged ones began to breathe. All forms of life began to breathe. To breathe, to live. In the air, on the land, in the water, and even in the fires of deep sulfurous vents where light never shines, all forms of life began to breathe. And they were all very hungry.
"What shall we eat?" they asked the Great Mother. "You eat me," she said with a smile. And they did. They ate of Her body. The plants sent their roots down into the earth and they ate of Her flesh and Her bones. The plants drank Her clear blood. From her deep springs, from her flowing waters, the plants ate. And they grew strong. And they gave birth. The grasses multiplied and rippled in the wind. Roots grew fat and juicy. And everywhere there were amazingly-shaped leaves, and flowers of many colors, and fruits wondrous to behold.
The animals ate Her. They did not eat Her flesh and Her bones as the plants did. They could not send their roots into Her, for they had legs and they moved about on the face of the Earth. Some of the animals ate of the grasses that grew from the Mother. Some of the two-legged ones ate the seeds of the grasses and the roots of the plants and their leaves. They ate and they ate and they ate. They began to give to birth, too. Soon there were many, many mouths eating the Mother. There were many, many feet stirring up the red dust of the Mother. There were many mouths to praise her abundance. And many mouths to feed.
"I am you and you are me. I am here for you to eat. Now eat me. Eat all of me." she urged them. And some of the animals ate Her flesh and Her bones in the form of the other animals. And some of the two-legged ones ate Her flesh and Her bones in the form of the animals. And her clear blood became red. And this red blood flowed in the bodies of the animals and the bodies of the two-leggeds who ate of the animals who ate of the plants who ate of Her. And the Great Mother was well pleased.
Now this red blood flowed in the bodies of the two-legged ones. It flowed in their bodies and it sang to them. This red blood sang to them of the endless wisdom of the Great Mother, and the endless dance of the moon, and the endless spiral of birth and life and death. And the ones who were round and full like the Mother felt the blood stirring in their bellies. The good red blood moved in their bellies and they were full of wonder, and they said to the Mother: "What shall we do with the red blood that moves so strongly in our bellies, Mother?" And she replied: "Give it to me. Return this blood to me. Nourish me. Allow me to replenish myself from your blood." And so they did.
Each month when the moon grew dark and disappeared, the blood began to flow from between the legs of some of the two-legged ones. From the wombs of the two-legged ones, the blood flowed: red and rich and nourishing. The red blood flowed into Her and she said: "You are me and I am you. Your blood is my blood. And my blood is yours. Forever and forever, we will nourish each other. And if you will keep holy the days of your bleeding, I will teach you all the secrets of the plants and the animals. And if you will keep holy the days of your bleeding, I will teach you all the secrets of Heaven and Earth." And so the women kept holy the days of their bleeding, and they grew wise in the ways of the plants, the ways of the animals, and the ways of Heaven and Earth.
And so it was for many, many turns of the Earth around the Sun. Until the change. No one really knows where it started. Like a small fire, at first it seemed harmless. The women were wise and they thought no harm could come to them. Were they not the very Earth herself? To harm a woman, was it not the same as harming the Mother? And who would be so foolish as to harm their own Mother? To harm the source of nourishment and comfort and strength?
Yet there were those who were so foolish. Deluded, they grew arrogant, and began to tell the story of creation in a strange way. They began to believe that a man gave birth to the Earth and to humans! They said that man was the source of all nourishment and wisdom. They said that man was the image of God, and that God was jealous, and angry, that God demanded pain and blood and despised the simple pleasures of the body, of the earth. They said that God lived above, not within the earth, that God lived in heaven and was above all life. They said that men were above all life, too. That man had dominion over all of life, over all of the Earth herself, to do with as he pleased.
Oh, how silly their stories were. Surely no one could believe such stories! Surely everyone could see clearly that woman was the source of life, and nourishment. Surely it was clear that the women's blood was the life of the Earth and the life of the people. And that the pleasure of the body was holy, was sacred, was good. That the Earth was alive, was our true Mother, and must be respected. That we are part of Her, dependent on Her for our very breath.
But, like a small fire left alone when the wind is blowing, the strange stories of God, of man as creator, grew and multiplied. The small fire of deceit rapidly became a raging storm, a storm that threatened all life. For the men began to say that the blood of women was bad, that women's moon time blood was dirty, unclean, even dangerous. They began to say that women themselves were dirty and dangerous. They began to say that the Earth was dirty and dangerous. They began to think of themselves as apart from the Earth, as separate from the Earth, as better than the Earth. They began to think of themselves as apart from women, as superior to women, as the master of women.
The women did their best to tend to the holy fires. The women did their best to keep the days of their bleeding sacred. The women did their best to teach their daughters how to learn from the plants and the animals and the Earth. And the women did their best to be true to the mysteries of the moon-time and the wisdom of the Great Mother.
But the men were lost. Without the wisdom of the women, alone and apart, the men forgot the ways of peace. They forgot that the Earth was their Mother. They forgot that all women were sacred. And they began to fight. At first they fought only among themselves. But soon the sickness spread and the men began to fight the women. They began to torture the women. They began to kill the women. They bound women's feet for this pain gave men pleasure.
They burned women at the stake for how dare any woman pretend to know the healing ways of the plants. They stoned women to death for it frightened them to see even the smallest bit of her holy flesh. They cut out the pleasure parts from between her legs for here was a power that seemed uncontrollable. And they told her, again and again, until she began to believe it was true, that she was not sacred, that she was not made in the image of God.
They men told each other that women were inferior, that the animals were inferior, and that the plants were inferior. Soon, puffed up with false pride, the men began to devise ways to use the women and the animals and the plants without respect for their power, without respect for their sacredness. The men began to believe that their view of the world was the only view of the world.
From one side of the Earth to the other, they abused the women and the plants and the animals. They used them without regard and kept them locked away. They ignored the cries of pain. They came to believe that women and plants and animals actually enjoyed being hurt. They confused some women so terribly that these women began to believe that they actually were dirty and in need of punishment. They tortured so many women that the wisdom of the women seemed to be the lie, and the lies of the men took on the trappings of truth.
But the Great Mother lives in every woman. In every place and every time, the Great Mother shows herself in the form of every living woman. "Eat me." she whispers in the dreams of the woman. And the woman throws off the bed covers and walks barefoot into the moonlit night. She is yearning. She feels a deep stirring in her belly. She looks at the moon and she fancies that she hears the moon speaking to her. "You are sacred. You are the beginning and the end of all existence. I am you and you are me. Keep sacred the days of your bleeding and I will share with you the wisdom of the plants and the animals and the very Earth."
Can she believe it is true? Dare she believe the truth of the words she seems to hear? All her life she has been told that she is not pretty enough, nor smart enough, not strong enough. Everything seems to tell her that she is too round, too emotional, too sensitive. And not sacred, in fact, the complete opposite of sacred. All the days of her life she has heard the stories of the wonders of man, the creator. She has heard it so often that it has the sound of truth: God is a man. God is all powerful, so men are all powerful (and women are weak). God is clean, so men are clean (and women are dirty). God is pure, so men are pure (and women are filth). God never bleeds from between his legs and men never bleed from between their legs (so the flowing blood of women is a sickness, a curse, a punishment). How can she believe that her blood is sacred? How can she allow herself to feel pleasure, to name it good, to name it holy? How can she dare to believe that she is the Goddess?
Yes, the Goddess! The Goddess who is alive in every woman, in every place, in every time. The Goddess who whispers in our dreams. The Goddess who smiles in our lives. The Goddess who stirs the blood in our bellies. The Goddess who knows that every woman is wise and powerful and sacred. The Goddess who calls to us: "Keep the days of your bleeding sacred. Remember that your blood is the blood of life, the blood of peace. Feed me your blood, your moon-time blood, oh my daughter, my lover. Feed me, for I hunger and I thirst for you.
"Return to me. Return to yourself. Remember yourself. Remember me. I am the Great Mother. I am the Goddess. I am the Wise Woman. Listen to my words. Listen to my song. I am in you, thus I can never be lost. My story is your story. And it is the true story of birth and life and death. Eat me. Feed me. You are woman and so am I. Through me, you exist; through you, I exist. We are the ones who create. We are the ones who nourish. We are the ones who open the gates between the worlds. We are the ones who must reclaim ourselves, who must reweave ourselves.
"Oh sister, dear sister, the threads are thin, the song is faint. Tell me it is not too late. Tell me that you hear me. Tell me that you believe me. Tell me that the Goddess has returned. Tell me you are listening to the plants and the animals and your own deep knowing. Tell me you are looking past the slick, simple lies and into the messy, complex truth. Tell me that you feel the red blood stirring in your belly.
"Tell me it is not too late. Tell me the sisters are awakening. Tell me the moonlodge is rebuilt. Tell me that the words of White Buffalo Calf Woman were not in vain. Tell me that Kwan Yin's heart is not breaking. Tell me that Venus is safe. Tell me that Artemis roams free in the woods. Tell me that Lilith is welcome at your table. Tell me that you remember that pleasure is holy to me. Tell me that you refuse to believe that you delight in pain.
"Tell me that you feel me reaching out to you from the deep core of your being, from time out of mind. Tell me that you feel me waking up inside you, waking you up to your beauty and your power. Tell me that you are reclaiming your truth and turning a deaf ear to the lies. Tell me that you remember that you are the Goddess. Tell me that you remember that you and I are the same. Tell me you keep sacred the days of your bleeding. Tell me you honor your crones.
"I have been with you since the beginning, and I will be with you at the end. I am part of you and you are part of me. Allow me to love you. Allow me to honor you. Allow me to return."
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The Goddess Ungirled
by Lisa Sarasohn
How I learned to love my belly and found the Sacred Feminine within
Yes, it's true: my path to the Goddess has been learning to love my belly.
When I was fourteen, my mother handed me a girdle, something that she hoped would help me present a smooth line under the straight skirts she wanted me to wear. That's how the war on my belly began.
An artifact of the early 60's, this girdle was not one of your soft, stretchy latex numbers that supports and gently shapes. No, this was the Gestapo of girdles. It was so stiff that when I held it between my hands and tried to pull, it wouldn't give an inch. When I packed myself into it, a diamond-shaped reinforcement panel clamped itself over my tummy and rectangular reinforcement strips patrolled the outside of each thigh.
The three or four times I wore this contraption, stuffing my naturally curvaceous belly into this prison for my flesh, I could barely breathe. I felt like I was suffocating--the thing was killing me. So I hid it in the back of my bottom drawer under some sweaters and managed to "forget" to wear it.
But my well-meaning mother, the one to whom I looked for guidance on becoming a woman, had already delivered the message:
Your comfort doesn't matter, whether you can breathe doesn't matter, whether you can live fully and freely doesn't matter. What's important is that you look good. If your belly is too big, if it doesn't fit in, you have to hide it, crush it. Your belly shouldn't be seen, it's embarrassing, shameful, wrong. You're a misfit by nature, there's just too much of you. You have to hold yourself in, you don't deserve room to breathe. Don't take up too much space. What's important is that you fit into the very narrow definition of what's acceptable. Left to be yourself, unconstricted, unrestrained, you'll stick out, bulge out, be totally inappropriate.
When I was seventeen, both my mother and father encouraged me to go on the Stillman Diet to slenderize my shape. Remember the Stillman Diet? The food plan was eating nothing but protein and water for a week or more. So I just ate protein--mostly cottage cheese--and water for weeks at a time, trying to shrink my belly from sight, trying to emulate Twiggy, my Goddess of Thin.
When I first started dieting, I enjoyed a sense of control in my life that I had never had before. Dieting was a way I could outwardly comply with my parents' directive and at the same time defy their prescriptions for what I should do, how I should feel, who I should be. At least when I was dieting I could say: No, this will not go in my mouth. In dieting I found a way to assert my own will.
That sense of control came with a pricetag, though. In order to diet so strictly I had to deliberately deny, suppress, and override the sensations arising in my belly--sensations of hunger along with feelings of desire, pleasure, joy, grief, anger, and fear.
The message I swallowed in my attempt to diet was this:
You don't deserve nourishment. Food is bad, wrong, dangerous. Your appetites are by definition dangerous. The more you feel hollow--better yet numb--in your belly, the better. Don't feel what's happening in your belly—those feelings are dangerous and should be ignored. Empty yourself out. If you feel empty and hollow in your belly, you're doing something right.
But the fact is my body did need nourishment, and being human I did need to feel a whole range of hungers, and being human I did need to feel full. So my weeks of compulsive dieting alternated with weeks of compulsive eating, times when hunger, fear, anger, pleasure, and desire would not be denied. Such feelings emerged in my belly as an irritation, a grumbling, a restless stirring. These sensations were so terrifying and intolerable that I tried to extinguish them immediately--soothing, smoothing, stifling, or snuffing them out with food.
In twenty years of alternate dieting and bingeing, gaining and losing twenty pounds five or six times each year, I gained and lost at least 2,000 pounds. I obsessed about food, my weight, and my shape. I was lonely, directionless, and unhappy because I was too preoccupied with "trimming my tummy" to cultivate a sense of identity or purpose or to develop any intimate relationships. I was fighting the war of "fitting in" and "feeling full," and the battlefield in this war was my belly.
When I was twenty-four, I knew I was losing the war. It was becoming obvious to me that I would never find lasting happiness either in consuming another bag of cookies or in squeezing myself into size seven jeans.
As a teenager, I had witnessed a demonstration of yoga at the Unitarian Church my family attended. Not knowing how else to help myself, I started taking yoga classes. I found yoga to be a gentle way to start reinhabiting my body. Four years later I was a professionally-trained yoga teacher.
As part of my continuing yoga training, I began to learn about hara and to practice movement and breathing exercises which develop and strengthen hara. Hara is the Japanese word for "belly," the belly as both our physical and our spiritual center. In a word, hara identifies the belly to be the source of our spiritual power.
(Even in English, "gut" is a word for the belly and "gutsy" means daring, spirited, brave.)
The belly as source and site of spiritual power? Here was a new angle on what I had only known as a source of embarrassment and shame.
The benefits of developing hara, as I read about them in Karlfried Graf von Dürckheim's Hara: The vital centre of man, one of the few books on the topic, were totally appealing. I was nearly salivating as I read that one who develops hara unites with the nourishing, creative, regenerative flow of the universal life force. One who develops hara experiences security, confidence, courage, creativity, serenity, identity, authenticity, autonomy, sense of purpose, sense of kinship and connection, boundless energy, and stronger immunity from disease. In Dürckheim's words, one who develops hara experiences a power "which is not a power one has but a power in which one stands." More than anything else, I knew, I wanted this experience of hara in my life, for myself.
But although I lusted after the benefits of developing hara, a certain nameless dread would arise when I did the hara-strengthening exercises for more than a couple of weeks. So I'd stop for a few weeks. Then I'd take up the practice again for a couple of weeks. My practice was like running up to the edge of the ocean, sticking a toe in, and running back to dry land.
Bringing energy and awareness to my belly did stir up these feelings of "nameless dread," and something more. One morning, in a room full of long-time yoga practitioners and spiritual seekers who, like me, were engaging in this hara-strengthening practice, I began to giggle. And I giggled and laughed for a half-hour or more, for no reason at all. I began to suspect that whatever feelings were lurking in my belly, they might not all be dreadful. Those feelings hidden deep down in my belly might also include joy.
I was intrigued. I made it my mission to immerse myself in the study and practice of hara: to plunge--full-body, full-being--right into that ocean which I had been avoiding. And I wanted to make practical information on developing hara available to women in more popular terms than Dürckheim's book could provide. His book is dense and theoretical, and seems to address itself only to men.
I also resolved to define my "approach/avoidance" pattern with respect to practicing the hara-strengthening exercises as something important to investigate, rather than as a personal failing, a character flaw, or a lack of commitment. And it's this investigation which has brought me home to the Goddess.
Here's what I discovered:
I discovered that ancient peaceful and egalitarian woman-centered societies flourished in Old Europe and the Near East for thousands of years, that these cultures worshipped the Goddess, and that they understood their universe as woman's body. These people's icons, their Goddess figurines, show that they honored woman's big belly as the source and site of the power creating, sustaining, and regenerating the world.
I began to understand the connections among woman's belly, women's power, and the power of the Sacred Feminine--in the ancient past, through history, in our times, and in my life. As Elinor Gadon writes in The Once & Future Goddess,our bellies are our power centers, "not just symbolically but in physical fact. When we say we act from our guts, from our deepest instincts, this is what we are speaking of. The power of our womb has been stolen from us."
And so it has been: women's power has declined as woman's belly has been violated and shamed. As I researched this connection, I saw that 5,000 years of patriarchal culture has degraded belly, body, woman, the Sacred Feminine, the soul, the feminine sensibility in both women and men, native peoples, and nature--all in a single process of devaluation. Because the belly is the bodily site of feminine sensibility, our patriarchal culture marks the belly as a target of assault--through rape, unnecessary hysterectomies and Cesarians, reproductive technology, legal restrictions on women's authority in pregnancy and childbirth, and belly-belittling fashions, exercise regimens, and diet schemes. The same logic which drove patriarchal culture to raze the sacred groves in which women and men worshipped the Goddess has driven it to desecrate women's bellies
.
No wonder bringing awareness to and energizing my hara stirred up feelings of "nameless dread." For thousands of years the dominant culture has made war on women's bellies; overt and covert brutality has made the belly an uncomfortable place in which to be. And no wonder I and so many other women have cycled through compulsive dieting and compulsive eating in desperate and failing attempts to shrink our bellies from sight. In a culture which literally hates women's guts, those of us who have internalized that hatred have often expressed it by heaping abuse upon our bellies in our efforts to "fit in."
My research eventually took me (where else?) to the lingerie department of a local department store. I studied the tags hanging on the girdles and read what they said about the benefits these items were supposed to deliver. I noticed that the promotions for these undergarments read like an FBI directive for suppressing foreign insurgents: "Achieve firm control…obtain total control…eliminate undesirable elements." Here it is, the evidence: the girdle is an instrument of social control, a device to contain and restrict the expression of women's natural power.
The gruesome information that I've collected on the culture's violence against woman's belly has actually had a liberating effect. Now I can make a distinction: that whatever dread I may feel as I bring awareness and energy to my belly, those difficult feelings are like a hideous rug which has been hiding the entrance to the room below, where my treasure awaits me. Those feelings have been surrounding my belly; they are not my belly itself. I need the vitality and power of hara more than I need to avoid whatever difficult feelings may arise.
And so I've designed a sequence of eighteen belly-energizing, power-centering movement and breathing exercises which I've drawn from yoga and other healing traditions, and which I've practiced almost daily for the last five years. And I've written a myth--a story of creation, a story of the heroine's journey--which narrates the movement sequence. ("In the beginning, Woman created the world, and the world was Woman. She fashioned clay into a bowl, fired it in flame, cooled it in wind and water, and set the bowl within her belly..")
As the exercises enact the creation story, they become gestures in a transformational ritual of self-affirmation, spiritual empowerment, and connection with the energy of the Sacred Feminine. I call this ritual "Honoring Your Belly."
As practicing this ritual brings me to experience new levels of creativity, confidence, trust, stamina, compassion, identity, purpose, and connection, it also brings me to an ever-deepening sense of the Goddess as an undeniable, tangible presence within my body, within my belly.
How do I experience the presence of the Sacred Feminine within my belly? When my belly is active and alive, I feel a radiating warmth, an expansive vitality there. Sometimes I feel a pulsing; sometimes I feel a stirring or spinning sensation, as if a small world were spinning there. Often I feel a spaciousness and a satisfaction in my belly, a sensation of being full and whole.
Intuition, guidance, and wisdom--usually delivered in feisty, no-nonsense, down-to-earth, practical terms--seem to emanate from my belly. Sometimes my belly feels as if there's a big beautiful black woman there, like a volcano, rumbling way down deep in my soul.
When my belly is awake and energized, I feel a resonance there with the center of the earth, as if there's an invisible cord extending from the center of my body to the planet's center. And I feel that from my belly center I'm umbilically linked to the loving, protecting, guiding energy that surrounds us. I feel that I belong, that I'm included, that I'm welcome in this world.
I'm not alone in finding connection to the Goddess through honoring and energizing the belly. For the last several years I've been teaching the "Honoring Your Belly" ritual in workshops and retreats, and I've produced an instructional audiotape album so women can learn and practice the ritual on their own. Many women are telling me that bringing awareness and energy to their bellies is ushering them into a deeper experience of their own power and their relationship with the Sacred Feminine. They tell me that moving and breathing deeply from their bellies engenders an experience of embodying the Goddess.
The delight of that experience eliminates any temptation I might feel to ever wear a girdle again!
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For more information about workshops, the instructional videotape, and The Woman's Belly Book: Finding Your Treasure Within--visit Love Your Belly or email lisa@loveyourbelly.com
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Crone Magic-Crone WisdomCopyright 2003 by Dr. Tonya K. Freeman - Minister - Metaphysician
As I have aged, what has been shown to me by the Dark Mother are wonders that I could never have imagined. For this I am forever grateful.
Knowing that with age comes wisdom, magic takes on a whole new meaning for me. Working with Crone Magic is scary for some because Her moon is the Dark Moon. The unknown, the void from which all things are created. This is not a moon for the faint of heart but for those that know and understand what the darkness represents and are not afraid to use it, to identify with it, to enjoy it and gain power from it.
If one desires to feel this power, here are a few insights that will help to make your Crone Magic powerful.
The Dark Moon is also known as the waning crescent moon. It is related to the Sabbat of Samhain, which many call Halloween.
In the womb of darkness, the moon rests for three and one half days. During this time she is gathering information and laying the foundation for new ideas to take hold.
This is a time to perform spells for prophecy, cursing or chaos. Of course, if one curses another, they shall reap that which they have sown. “Do what ye will but harm none.”
The Dark Moon energy is one of great power, for any and all magical work.
Justice can be sought during this moontime.
Take time to go deep within, understand and gain knowledge of self…the anger, the passion that courses through your blood, guide these emotions to work in a positive way. The Dark Moon, an excellent time for deep meditation (this is also true of the black candle).
Black is the main color of Crone Magic. It is the absence of color, yet encompasses all colors. Black, which many are fearful of, represents protection and transformation. It dispells negative energy quickly. Black is also good for banishing spells, the Divine Femi9, night, the universe or yoni-verse and lack of falsehood. One of the colors of the root chakra, the first chakra, is black. This is where lies your foundation in life.
Another Crone Magic color is purple. Ah, the Royal Dark Mother. Purple represents pure divine power, it deepens spiritual awareness and is used for attaining ancient wisdom and finding that which you seek. Purple, psychic awareness and spirituality in a nutshell. This color is connected to the Third Eye or the All Seeing Eye, the sixth chakra.
Black is Saturn energy. Masculine. The world within, the Record Keeper, the Lord of Karma. When the head and the heart are united, Saturn has done its work.
Purple on the other hand, is Neptune energy. Neptune melts all barriers by being persuasive. It is a Femi9 vibration, exquisite. Neptune is Divine Love, intangible realms and the next dimension. With Neptune, sacrifice is joy and there is no suffering.
In my mind, there is no doubt why these two colors are attributed to the Crone's wisdom and magic.
As one works or makes magic, they are using energy. Everything is energy and energy is used to create. Energy in and of itself, is pure. We give to it the intention and emotion of our will. Energy is not good or bad or right or wrong. It just is.
Now that you understand what energy is, you’ll want to empower and use your Sacred Tools, such as herbs, stones, oils and any other items that are deemed sacred to you and by you. We use tools to help create an ambience that is conducive to magical work...to help raise the cone of power.
Within my Sacred Toolbox, are musical instruments, such as a nutshell rattle, to call up or shake off--bells, wooden sticks, feathers, candles, crystals, earth and water collected during certain times i.e., various moon phases or planetary hours, even special days. I also have a doll that I made for working on myself. These are just a few of my Sacred Tools.
You will want to have an area especially for your magical work. This is where your power lies outside of yourself. This is your altar or shrine space. It can be as simple or as elaborate as you like. Sometimes one must use a portable altar because of circumstances, space being one of them. A portable altar is good for other reasons as well, like keeping it out of the way of prying eyes or simply for convenience.
A couple of items that represent the Crone energy are brooms and bones. I found a great Crone figurine at a thrift store. She is working her broom with a black cat at her feet. I just love her. Thrift shops are fun to shop in, besides, you never know where you are going to find your Sacred Tools.
You may even decide to use your creative talent to make a Crone doll, or a Magical Crone Collage or you may even decorate a broom.
When making a Magical Crone Collage, you will need magazines and or newspapers and possibly some other things to make your collage - like shells, mirrors, cotton, etc. You can cut and paste those things that represent the Crone energy, frame it and hang it where you can gaze upon it daily. This will help to empower your own Crone energy.
I love brooms. Decorating them is such a ritual for me. I use herbs, shells, bells and whatever else I’m guided to use. I call my broom the, Sweep Yourself Clean Broom. One should always make sure to sweep the aura before doing work. It helps to have the spirit as clear as possible. If you don’t have a broom, a feather will do or you can use your hands to do the trick.
Now that you have your Sacred Tools and a working knowledge of the Dark Moon--Her power and purpose, it is time for you to create some Crone Magic in your life.
Crone Magic - Crone Wisdom is an awesome power. If you are a woman whose Sacred Blood no longer flows forth from her womb but continuously flows within - know that your wisdom is contained for the greater good and enjoy this aspect of your life. Be empowered and make magic.
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For permission to reprint this article, contact us at: truthseeker1950@yahoo.com
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Words of Wisdom
Quieting the Mind: A Testimonial by Robin P. Heard
Dr. Tonya K. Freeman has dealt with empowering our Femi9 women in all walks of life for over 30 years. She believes that if you have that balance in your life and mentoring each day, you can handle any bad karma that may come your way. Dr. Tonya K. Freeman is a friend, a leader, a guide and a mentor.
As my teacher once said to me, "Stop, slow the mind and be still. Once you achieve this goal, listen for the spirit to guide you through the unseen."
She would also explain that to enjoy your life, you must live in the present and keep the positive while washing away the negative. If we can take the time to understand that we are not perfect, then we can change others and ourselves if we choose to lead. The power of knowing that you have an unseen life makes it real. Each thought and each moment makes it count.
Dr. Freeman, thank you for being who you are. You have helped me learn so many unimaginable things about myself. Your gentle words of encouragement, wisdom and empowerment have changed my life tremendously.
And to her husband, Mr. Bill Pinder, thank you for your small silent words that your eyes express. Many blessings to both of you. I have enjoyed the time that I have spent with my King and Queen. I love you both.
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Liberate your Sexy Spirit!
Sexuality and spirituality go hand and hand.
For women who are seeking to connect more to their Divine Femi9 Self, there is a workshop coming up this month. It's a fun, informative, transformative and sexually charged workshop, that will take you to new heights on your spiritual journey.
Not only is womb dancing a very important part of a woman's life, it is extremely liberating.
Help to heal your Sexy Spirit through dance, by tapping into the wisdom and movements of the Ancestral Mothers.
Though I love children, this is YOUR time to connect with your SiStars. Please make arrangements to leave your children in the care of someone you trust.
Click on the link below to find out more. Looking forward to seeing you there.
Femi9 Woman Dance Flyer
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