Sophia Wisdom by Lydia Ruyle
The other night
with the Moon’s light
veiled in her dark
the wilderness Sky revealed
a dome of dazzling stars
I gasped with delight,
a familiar memory
Around the rim where sky touches earth,
in every direction,
lightning danced in soft spreads of light
messengers of potent possibility.
With her dark spaciousness
this Star Mother
tells me that
She will hold my troubles.
“Offer it up,” She says,
just as my birth/earth Mother used to say
when my childhood sorrows felt too much to bear.
“Offer it up!”
Dedicated to my Bella Madre, Lena Pearl, who returned to her celestial home on March 26, 2014, and to my friend Lydia Ruyle, who left this world on March 26, 2016.
Of all the sites in Crete that beckoned, it was the thousand-year-old Sacred Myrtle Tree that I most looked forward to visiting. I had first read about it in 1995, in Carol Christ’s Odyssey to the Goddess.* Carol described the Panagia Myrtià, the All Holy Myrtle, as a place of veneration, tended by the local nun’s, and extremely sacred. At that time, I was about to begin my own odyssey over the months and years to come, first encountering the Black Madonna while doing genealogy research in Italy, and then returning to Italy to delve deeply into my ancestral heritage. Now, here I was in 2015, twenty years later, gathered at the base of the Sacred Tree with Carol Christ and a group of women as part of a Goddess Pilgrimage. Tears came to my eyes as Carol read the story of her first visit to the Tree, the very story that had called to me long ago. We do not know who our stories reach when they go out into the world. Continue reading
May Love Be At the Center of All Choices Shiloh Sophia 2008
A dream foretold my Mother’s death. We all knew her months were numbered. Her heart was no longer functioning well, and although she was still able to live in her home, thanks to visits from my sister, Marlene, three times a day, Mom was weak. The last few months had been rocky with several trips to the emergency room.
In my dream, Mom was in a car parked in front of my childhood home. She was in the driver’s seat and the back door was open for me to get in. She turned around to tell me something but her voice was weak, and I couldn’t understand what she said. The scene then shifted from our quiet tree-lined street to the middle of a busy intersection, our car stopped in several lanes of heavy traffic. But, when the cars in front of us began to move, Mom pressed hard on the pedal and lurched backward! I closed my eyes, anticipating several lanes of traffic coming at us from either side. . . it seemed impossible that we would survive. Continue reading
I guess it is inevitable that I should miss my mother, the person who birthed me into this world, as my birthday draws near. Although we are exquisitely connected for all time, I miss her presence in my life at this time. Paraphrasing a phrase that I read in a book about motherhood: “Mother is the first place I knew.” Continue reading