Well, I decided that "The Words of the Goddess" is just too clumsy (and possibly pretentious sounding) if I may be writing over a hundred posts about the words on my handwritten list. My writer/researcher self wanted to be true to my original document, but sometimes you have to let go of your training and just live..."Goddess Words" it'll be for now.
"Boulders." You must be thinking, how on earth does this rate being near the top of a list featuring concepts like Love, Beauty and Synchronicity? Actually, it is rather far down the list, which I wrote (and will present) in no particular order. But it appeals today. Boulders are huge rocks, usually too big to be moved by human hands alone, and often rounded by generations of erosion.
There are boulders galore near Lake Superior. When I first lived here in the early 1990's, and had a car, I frequently took drives up the scenic road to Two Harbors. There were probably a dozen pull-offs back then (sadly, some have closed because of -- yup -- erosion!) and I would park, and make my way down onto the rocky shoreline. On a sunny day, I loved clambering onto the rocks, then stretching out in the sun. I loved the heat from the rocks as well as the sky -- and normally I don't tolerate the heat. But on the rocks, it was different. I felt part of nature in a way I rarely do otherwise. I felt animal, aligned with the setting. And I loved using my hands and feet to move horizontally, getting out of formal, upright mode.
Earlier this week, I was on the Lakewalk, and I realized that about a third of a mile away there is a rock point jutting out into the lake that I have never explored. A mom and her children were out there, playing. I wanted to join them, but, thirty years older, less mobile, and fearful from previous falls and sort of "COVID-era trauma", I didn't. This morning, I'm thinking, really? Really? When did that happen? Over the next week, I promise to myself and you, I'll go back and find my way onto that rocky point, and tell you about it.
Why do boulders speak "Goddess"/Mother Nature to me? They aren't soft, and in a sense they aren't welcoming, like a grassy meadow or a garden. They are ancient and hard. You have to do a little work to connect with them. But they are survivors. They are rounded and variegated and powerful. The kinds of floods that have destroyed entire manmade communities merely rub a tiny millimeter of surface from them, without changing their essential natures. They are the closest things we have in our lives to "eternal". And it just occurred to me, what is the main construction material of English cathedrals, where I feel most at home? Stone. Boulders. Hmm...I hadn't made that link before.
I'm throwing in the homophone ("bolder") just because. It's time we women find a way to be bolder. Not to fight, not to take power over, not to rage, not to stand up to anyone or anything. Simply to speak more boldly and confidently, and to act more boldly. Thank our fears for trying to protect us, but move forward anyway. Be solid. Be like a boulder. My assignment for becoming bolder this week will be to find my way to the boulder. What's yours?!
