Post by gwen on Jul 1, 2015 16:44:48 GMT -8
I wrote this for a ritual with my other group, Wildheart Haven. The images and ideas came to me while sitting on a pile of rocks reaching out to the Cailleach:
This rock—this one here in my hand—
this rock was created as dirt and sand pressed together
intimate
until the grains merged into one layered substance entwined.
Each grain began life
in the fiery heat of the forming earth's passion
and cooled, shaped, was cut and carved over untold ages of wind and water.
Stones are the bones of the earth, they say.
There is a reason we call sex “boning.”
The bedrock of the world
is a living, solid record of passion's joining and breaking and rejoining.
The ageless and ancient witness to all life and death
is born of fire and transformed in fierce joy through river and storm.
This rock—this one here in my hand—
in this moment cool, steady, still
is the life-length of thousands of my ancestors
and bears this paradox: time is an atom and a universe,
and the stillness of this small space is a part of the exuberant dance
of passionate all.
This rock—this one here in my hand—
this rock was created as dirt and sand pressed together
intimate
until the grains merged into one layered substance entwined.
Each grain began life
in the fiery heat of the forming earth's passion
and cooled, shaped, was cut and carved over untold ages of wind and water.
Stones are the bones of the earth, they say.
There is a reason we call sex “boning.”
The bedrock of the world
is a living, solid record of passion's joining and breaking and rejoining.
The ageless and ancient witness to all life and death
is born of fire and transformed in fierce joy through river and storm.
This rock—this one here in my hand—
in this moment cool, steady, still
is the life-length of thousands of my ancestors
and bears this paradox: time is an atom and a universe,
and the stillness of this small space is a part of the exuberant dance
of passionate all.
