The return of the feminine is the return of moisture. The world of logos grows arid when it lacks the life-giving waters of eros to lend it vitality.
This sense of dryness, a certain lack of suppleness and flexibility and depth is often an indicator that we have been living in the land of logos for too long. The masculine world of logic where everything makes good, reasonable sense, and yet fails to move us.
too much air
not enough earth
too much fire
not enough water
too much mind
not enough body
too much spirit
not enough soul
We fly up and out. Away from the earth, away from our bodies, away from our feelings, away from the messiness of being alive.
Who will fetch the water?
will it be your great-granddaughter
who’ll fetch the water?
who will call the rain
feel it falling to our skin
from a welling deep within
who will call the rain?
And who will strike the drum
when our thundering heartbeat needs it
when the feet gotta pray it down
who will beat the ground?
– The Course by Ayla Nereo –
In every generation, there are the women who hear the call. The call to the well maidens. To the ancient goddess. The women who will fetch the life-giving waters of the feminine and bring them back to the land, again and again.
The women who hear the call for embodiment. Dance. Movement. Wisdom embodied in flesh and bone, marrow and womb.
The women write poetry soaked in metaphor and walk barefoot upon the earth and follow the moon in her waxing and waning.
The women who create something from nothing with their bare hands. Make food, create art, plant gardens, raise babies.
The women who yearn for truth, a subjective truth that is grounded in their own lived experience, knowing that when they speak they do so from their roots, in their own voice.
The women who commune with nature, who are nature in human form. Wild, sovereign, and free.
The women who bring us back down to earth, into the beauty and fragility, the ecstasy and the agony of being human.
The women who feel. Who express. Who intuit. The women who know without needing to know how they know.
The women who recognize, and honor, the sacred within matter. Plants and animals and rocks and their own precious bodies.
The women who feed and nourish their own souls, so as to feed and nourish the soul of the world.
These women have always existed.
WE have always existed.
Throughout time, backwards and forwards and right now. The women of eros. The women of a wild and untamed femininity, not honed for consumption or praise, but emerging from a natural wellspring deep within.
There have always been, and will always be, women who fetch the water.
When the world has grown dry. When the soil needs tending to become once more rich and fertile. When the people have forgotten and neglected the wholeness of existence.
Darkness and light.
Day and night.
The sacred dance.
Balance in and through motion.
Through the turning of the great wheel of time.
Woman, it is time to remember.
Dare to feel,
dare to experience each season fully
for one day you will see the immense pattern your life has made.
Through each twist and turn.
Through each unfolding.
Through each dark night and new dawn.
Each of us will see
our own individual story interwoven with the Great Story.
We will see
the image made by our souls becoming embodied and we will be humbled and grateful for the gift that we have lived.