We're weavers all - so may we rub a bit of Spider Web into the palms of our hands in 2012!
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"Today, I would describe a priestess as a woman who lives in two worlds at once, who perceives earthly life against the backdrop of a vast, timeless, reality."In my Valentine's day Post, I shared some thoughts about Aphrodite, the Greek Goddess of love. One of the things I found interesting was a correspondence that had been going on with a friend in Portland who is bringing up a ritual with Goddess masks. Apparently, she and others in her group are frustrated because they can't seem to get the Aphrodite mask to "cooperate"..........several priestesses have volunteered to dance the mask, and then abruptly withdrawn. Some discussion has passed among us about the deeper meanings of Aphrodite in our contemporary world. I love psychologist and priestess Jalaja Bonheim's book Aphrodite's Daughters, the compassion with which she illuminates this through women's stories. She is also, quite appropriately, the founder of the Institute for Circle Work in Ithaca, New York.
"Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
Dance me to the end of love "
Leonard Cohen, "Dance Me To The End Of Love"
APHRODITE IN BROOKLYN
Please allow me to take off my shoes,
this faux marble pose
this modern, pragmatic mask.
Permit me my ruin.
Let us not consider this therapy
or revolution
do not ask me to give you space
let us not discuss those who came before
and those who might follow.
Let us not talk of past lives.
I have fallen on hard times.
If you come to my temple
just let me make for you an ocean.
Half seen in the darkness
your body, a mystery
true, tangible, radiant,
lined with the rings of your life.
You are beautiful,
beautiful to be a man.
Darling, even in this era, I will not believe
that love is disposable,
that sex is safe
that lovers are trains, rolling past each other
to some certain station
I remember,
I almost remember my river source
My skin forms the word anew,
yes,
enter me
as if
you were coming home