I once called myself an Urban Pagan. I even spoke on Triple J radio about it. A burning misunderstanding of soul memory, ancestral roots and a pathway home to the Divine She had awoken in my twenty-something heart.
It led me to my ancestral lands to encounters with adult stags in the forest by moonlight (the ones with antlers, not brides), pick up fragmented soul parts and dance between standing stones in the snow.
Later when my Apprenticeship was over and my Journeywoman time had begun, I’d swim naked in the waters north of the Daintree, where She was wild, untouched and untamed. Where the language of the Sacred Feminine was unshackled from my soul.
For years, decades, this time, the Autumnal Equinox has been my siren call to go home.
To go within.
“Leave your worldly things”, Her voice would call, “Remember who you are.”
And my soul would sigh and then jump with delight and run and run like the wind couldn’t catch me. Until safe, home, deep in my inner life, my gnowing cave, I would remember who I am.
Last year, whilst en route to my well-practised returning. Spirit snagged my foot. “Wait”, She said. So I did.
I didn’t return. But I didn’t stay.
I spent the year in a strange half-light midway between worlds.
Deep enough to pull my daughter’s incarnational threads out of her personal hell realm. The astral shards from her Fatherline that weren’t mine to touch or heal needed to be burnt off by herself to create her own wisdom making.
I stayed halfway between the light and dark to catch her and guide her home.
I also stayed in the twilight to weave a new kind of magic.
Last year, from the March Equinox to the Summer Solstice, I birthed the Guardians Initiation.
For nine months, symbols and glyphs were gouged from my arms and legs, ancient marks speaking a language of Embodied Elderhood. Gateways returning the Divine Feminine to Sacred Masculinity was carved from my bones.
To my troop of truly courageous men, I returned what has been safeguarded, held sacred, by seed carriers in my family since the robbing of the Sacred Rites and land from men began.
I was put through the wringer.
To trust the visions, dreams and teachings (You want me to do what??? Omg). Then,
To embody the teachings (teaching only what I gnow – my gnosis + experience) _and_ also
To hold the Light while demons and shadows fought like crazy (you try and be the counterpoint to 5000 years of enculturation!)
Well, it separated the boys from the spiritually adult men. I’m not talking about boys from warriors. They were all heart warriors.
I’m talking about men ready to be congruently themselves. To be masters of their own initiation. Be accountable for all their shadow consequences. To be the dude, they are in circle / when they’re with friends / at work – at home. Always.
I had no idea how hard that is for most men. And yes, I do work with the Good Ones.
The initiation was brutal, ruthless and unconditionally kind. That type of Feminine energy changes – Everything. The BEST THING, though, was that Guardians created a container of brotherhood like no other any of us had experienced, and the love – THE LOVE!
Was and is utterly magnificent and profound.
So today, where there is balance in all things, I am not, like I have done for 30 years, hearing the call and ‘going within’.
I’ll leave that to you, my beautiful community of fierce mothers and sacred girls. Instead, I will stay here with a foot in two worlds. This is not arrogance but Truth. I do not need to go within to be with my Mystery. I carry her with me always as my soul skin.
One foot in my sacred feminine ministry, one foot in the land of sacred men.
As above, so below … lol.
(I guess I’m still a pagan …) Lhamo x