The silk scarf was long and purple, soft and warm. I wrapped it around my shoulders and sunk down into the well-worn pew with a deep sense of grace. Grace that was filled with joy and community, hope and love, purpose and reverence. It was Ostara, and together at
Diana's Grove, we were about to open the gates to the season and welcome in spring.
I looked at each one of the seventeen women I had been blessed to share sisterhood and community with for that handful of days. It was intimate and personal, friendship-forming and deep magic to be around such a small number of world changers and witches. There was A, only twelve years old, shy yet impish; there was J who had shared animated conversations with me about the magic and witchery of writing. There was M who had inspired me so greatly, had made me laugh until my sides hurt. P, who I idolized, one of the greatest tarot experts I'd ever met. And, of course, Rachel, who made the weekend magic, eyes shining as she stood in the circle. In this circle, we were endlessly connected as we rose and danced in the beginnings.
I had been chosen (by a small slip of paper in a goblet) to be an invoker of Air, along with a few other amazing women. We had met for ritual conspiracy and had talked about what air meant to us, and what we would like to bring to the ritual. In Diana's Grove, ritual is community created, so we would all of us have a part. "These are our prayers and promises to Air," we began, as we moved among the women: "to grow, to flower and to fly. What promises do you give air?" The element moved among us as each cried out a promise and a prayer. To be inspired, to be loved, to be courageous...together, always together, we were drawn deeper down into the circle.
"You are the seed," Cynthea began as we settled down, into our seats, hearts beating quick with the invocation. "And when a seed begins to grow, it unfurls in darkness." She moved slowly as P picked up the drum, beating out the quietest of trance rhythms. "It reaches and it stretches and it grows...in darkness. It takes such courage to be that seed, before we break through, before we grow into the air...and what will we find when we get there? It takes such courage to grow into snow, into harsh cold, to be the first, or perhaps the hundredth. You are that seed."
My heart unfurled, like that seed, as she wove her words, as truths spilled out into my spirit. I felt every woman in the room, every heart, beating, beating, beating, like the drum. And, suddenly, there was light behind my eyes. I opened them, and in the center of the circle was a cauldron, flames leaping high.
"The sun welcomes you," said Cynthea quietly.
We rose and sang the chant, the chant of courage and connection, one to the other, and lit a candle each from the cauldron. Together, we exchanged candles, going from woman to woman as we sang. The song grew louder and louder as the words morphed into the truest and deepest of secrets: "She changes everything She touches, everything She touches changes!"
And then...and then...and then...candles flickering, faces shining, hearts upheld and connected, we finished the song, we basked in the light--we brought in spring.
What did I take from Diana's Grove? Who am I, afterward? After the ritual, I sat down in the Great Room, watching the candles flicker, too heart-full to move. J came and sat down next to me and we watched the light in companionable silence for a moment. Until I said: "You live here. I can't imagine that. One week of this, and I would be a completely different person."
She turned to me, looked deep into my eyes, and--her voice catching--said: "No...you've spent two
days here, and already you're a completely different person."
And it was true.
I will not and can not forget those sacred moments. The storytelling on Friday night, as we all told the stories of the elements, and M grabbed my hand and together we walked into the center of the circle and told the story of Air. Walking the land with Rachel, laughing and crying together as we made sense of so much and learned our own truths (or, perhaps, relearned them). Finding the paths we both needed to take. Having her always be there for me, her friendship, her laughter, her kindness, her goodness and her strength. Sharing that ritual space with her, and feeling our sisterhood deepen, if that was even possible.
Playing with the dogs who make up the dog rescue portion of Diana's Grove. Finding favorites and learning their names and their favorite itchy spots. No matter where you are or where you're going, always having that canine companion. There was Percy, the Great Pyrenees, who didn't want me to go so held on to my shawl with his great jaws. There was Holly, the little Labrador baby, who followed us everywhere, a self effacing beauty. There was Abby, the pushy little Australian Cattle Dog who stayed under our cabin, soaking in the rain all night, because she wanted to be with us so much. There was Angel, the Collie who loved people but not-so-much on the pup front. There was Red Jack, the Pitbull, who made me cry when I hugged him because he reminded me so much of Beethoven...and I found peace through him. There was Georgia, the ancient hound dog, who was constantly happy, no matter what. There were countless more, whose names I never learned, but loved all the same, our guardians, our companions, our friends.
The writing workshop on Saturday morning, the tarot meeting on Sunday morning, the draws of cards, the conversations, the connections. S had put bunny playing cards with singular words or phrases all around the property, urging us to find them as a form of divination. Each one was a treasure.
The freezing cold water of the little river through Diana's Grove, rushing over my aching feet. The moment where I knelt down, heart overwhelmed in Brigid's Grove as my fingers traced the old broken statues and the bits of glass (last year, vandals broke into the Grove and trashed Brigid's Grove, smashing the statues and the well. They rebuilt it from the rubble, using the rubble, and within that was such sacredness...that you are never truly broken). Watching the daffodils push up through the earth, into the light...being those seeds.
That life changing conversation that Rachel and I had, after the ritual on Saturday, long into the night. And that promise to be that mirror for each other, always.
I am changed, and my life has changed. On Sunday morning, as we passed the round glass sphere, one to the other, to explain how we felt, what we would take from the Grove, I listened to the others relate the magic and their own truths, and felt the joy and companionship move from each one of us to the other. And as I held the warm glass in my hands, I said: "Diana's Grove reminded me to be outrageous, to be courageous, to be phenomenal. Because I am beautiful, and I am powerful, and I am that seed. And I have never felt that stronger than here." And looking around at the women who had made that weekend beautiful and sacred, I felt my heart overflow, felt it grow, felt it blossom. And I passed the glass on to A, who smiled shyly at me, and promised to remember to be magic.
We all are.
All pictures taken by Rachel~ <3
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