SageWoman Blogs

Listening to the woods, to the stones, to Gaia, and to women...

In the woods behind my house rest a collection of nine large flat rocks. Daily, I walk down to these “priestess rocks” for some sacred time alone to pray, meditate, consider, and be. Often, while in this space, I open my mouth and poetry comes out. I’ve come to see this experience as "theapoetics"—experiencing the Goddess through direct “revelation,” framed in language. As Stanley Hopper originally described in the 1970’s, it is possible to “…replace theology, the rationalistic interpretation of belief, with theopoetics, finding God[dess] through poetry and fiction, which neither wither before modern science nor conflict with the complexity of what we know now to be the self.” Theapoetics might also be described, “as a means of engaging language and perception in such a way that one enters into a radical relation with the divine, the other, and the creation in which all occurs.”

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Blood Ties

The blood of many species
swirls around me
The blood of many mothers
runs through me
The blood of many generations
comes from me

The blood of earth
feeds me
The blood of the Goddess
holds me

We dance together
in an ancient ecstasy
blood deep
bone rich
holy, potent, and pure.

The blood of creation
The blood of inspiration
The blood of sacrifice
and renewal…

(originally posted here)


At the end of April, we passed the first anniversary of my grandmother's unexpected death. A friend of mine drew a charcoal sketch of her and I gave it to my mother for a gift.

b2ap3_thumbnail_April-2014-065.JPG

My grandma was a beautifully active, vibrant woman and her quick devolution due to advanced and very aggressive pancreatic cancer was a tremendous shock to our family. I always admired and respected her and was proud of her for all of her accomplishments and activities. I remember when my great-grandmother died (at 88) my grandma told my mom: “now, I’m an orphan.” It is a moment that always stuck with me because I realized that no matter how old you get, you still feel like someone’s daughter.

I didn’t know I would feel her loss so keenly–-it was in the “right” order, she lived a full and beautiful life, and so on and so forth. One of the things that would totally set me off at first was to look at my own little girl and think, “but Mamoo used to be someone’s little girl!” (Mamoo is our family's grandma name for her.) And, then I think, but isn’t this what I WANT for my own little children? To grow up and have grandchildren and great-grandchildren? Yes, of course. And, I got to be almost 34 myself while still having her as a part of my life. One of the things I was curious to discover was my grief over the thought that my kids are the only kids on this side of my family who got to have her in their lives, who got to have experienced this amazing great-grandmother. When my brother and sister have kids, they won’t have a Mamoo. I had to laugh a little at myself that one of the things that made me cry the hardest during this whole draining, emotional experience was based on imaginary future people who may never even exist. I told my dad about it on the morning that she died, laughing while crying and crying at the same time, and he said: “it is because you feel the break in the chain.” I do.

 b2ap3_thumbnail_April-2014-176.JPG

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I am a doctoral student in women’s spirituality at Ocean Seminary College and ordained as a Priestess with Global Goddess. My roots are in birthwork, which is intimately tied to my interest in the Goddess and in feminist thealogy. I blog at http://goddesspriestess.com, create goddess and birth art and jewelry at http://brigidsgrove.etsy.com and I am the author of Womanrunes: a guide to their use and interpretation (based on the work of Shekhinah Mountainwater).

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