|Corizone Elliott as "The Pythoness - Oracle"|
Pilgrim and Kings, alike, answers sought, spoke of their hopes and dreams,
journeyed to holy Delphi, a crevice, deep in the earth,
journeyed to the Oracle, the Sibyl, the Pythoness
In trance, she spoke
offered visions, offered hope:
Behold I draw a spiral for You -
Step In I implore You
You are vessels of
Finely Woven well pitched baskets
Ancient Urns, Carved boxes
and Medicine Bundles
Fashioned From Your Perfect Heart
They are Still Safe Inside HER Holy Womb
Ancient Prayers Stir the Air,
Stirring Breath and Bone
Your hope is yours alone.
To touch what was a memory brings no fruit,
Your silent longing is the proof
As the Years move to months,
Months move to days
Numina witness you this Night,
Numina witness you this Night,
Floating plastic, Trash, decay,
Fill our planet and oceans today
Young and Old cry out to be free,
Grieving loss from each killing spree
Earth Mother Gaia raped
of soil and honor brings famine
Extinction threatens sockeye salmon
Elders sit alone in Hunger waiting;
Chorus: Man’s compassion dissipating.Time to listen, Take note, Stand strongMark My Words - It won’t be longWhen no water will be safe to drink,And Men will lose their right to thinkBecause their judgment is impairedwith residue of regret and mind despaired.Desolation’s Darkened DanceStomps out the last of free will’s chanceFalse pride clothed in glamour’s fashion -a deceptive weaving of wasteful actionChorus: Grinding you down ...Back Down to dust.
A woman weeps - A baby cries, a seed refuses to growWhere now there is open sea there once was gentle snow.Fruitless trees that do not bear, drought pursues you everywhere.But Listen within - Your Soul Still Knows.Ageless Grace resounds around.Chorus : A Prophecy is about to unfold
|Thallia Bird as "The Weaver"|
Listen. Things are unraveling.
Let me tell you about the fabric of your life.
Your soul is the tightened yarn of the weft; your spirit is the weave.
Your spirit is woven into the mat on which you kneel,
into the cloak that wraps around the shoulders of your everyday lives.
I have an old yarn. I have a new yarn.
Chorus: Take this yarn from me.
Form a weft that makes you strong
Take this yarn from me
Weave the threads so life goes on
Take this yarn from me.
Stories are woven into the land. Stories wrap themselves
around old bones and compost, vine and curl and leaf in the night,
stories written in the rocks about Deer and Raven,
sung by a Tree Nesting Warbler, stories found
in the cold hearts of sleeping mountains.
Walk out into the orchard. Sit beneath a fruiting tree.
Notice the shapes of things. The shape of the sky,
the shapes of the shadows, the shape of your own shadow.
There are cracks in the land like a spider web,
full of light, full of fire. Once,
you could see the Web as plain as day.
Song lines, leylines, threads, the pattern.
Each shining, woven thread.
It’ s time to weave a new story now.
See yourself as Spiderwoman,
sitting in the center of your web.
All of its snaking rivers and twining roots are inside of you!
All those threads come right out of your hands and out of your hearts
All those threads just go on forever
Into the Earth, and into each other:
into all your stories, into everyone you'll ever know,
Into all those who came before you,
and all those who will come after you.
Script excerpts by Ann Waters, Mana Youngbear, Lauren Raine
All photographs are copyright Jerri Jo Idarius, and used with her permission.
My gratitude to the fabulous performers of Willits who danced the masks to life!