In the presence of the Divine

I have met so many people this year, so many wonderful souls I have feel kindred too. I know my mother who birthed me. A fiery women whose temper could only be matched by her awesome loving, maternal nature. Her name Means Soul in Latin her middle name means Moody, an awesome mix of fire and water. She fights and yet she soothes, the very source that burned you may be the one that bandages you.

I have met a woman who lives in a very special place, an internal one that harmonically coexist with this exterior world, we call reality. Her voice is Golden, sweet and high like a birds first time song to the coming of Spring. She sang and wrote with many and has a motto of "No fear here" and always laces her Brave new shoes to present her many gifts through art. Her spirit is encouraging and uplifting is her high energy.

I have met a Celtic warrior weather witching mother of two, but of many. She loves her grain alcohol and Dionysus blessed drinks. Her spirit is red headed, blazon strong and enigmatic, her name rhymes with cave and brave. This spirit is but one facet of this beautiful gem of a women who weaves her words into intricate art and pictures and who can break into song any minute and paint the picture just as clearly. Freedom is her way, 'Lets improvise is what she will always say.'

I have met a Mother who has no children in the flesh but many in the spirit. Her spirit is strong as an elephant and just as ancient. She knows nothing of the pretentious but only that of the true person, ones true self. Authenticity in every way, what you see is what you get and believe she KNOWS 'where the bones are buried!' No one can see the truth displayed so brilliantly and not love it in someway, because the brilliance only reflects what the true spirit knows.

Oh another Goddess but this one tames and yet openly embraces birds of Prey. Her energy is strength, freedom, wisdom, foresight, and survival. She tends to take on the role of nurturing mother to those that are so blatantly her peers. Her hands no the fruit of vines and craft them into liquid emotion. Feathers are her tools, her anatomy, her practice, healing is her way. I see her golden haired and comfortable, but she is so much more to the third eye. She is a tribe of her own, a Chieftain, a Shaman, the Hunter who never takes more than is needed, the healer, the seer and the friend. Her name taken from the Old English and Gaelic words that mean Lake, Waterfall, or pool, and probably would have been given to a family who lived by the water. This rings true to her name.

A Goddess whose head shines bare of free of hair but whose wisdom grows in its place. Words are her weapon, her tools, her craft. Only to be matched by her brilliant usage of complicated melodies this world is not accustomed too, but only the Angels know. I could almost hear her in the faintest whisper singing, 'Sister Sister friend of mine..." as it disappears and your goosebumps settle and disappear.

OH and the blessed of Guadalupe herself, blessed and anointed by Rosetta Tharpe patron saint of her house. Animals know peace and shelter at her dwelling as well as those that come in three. She only offers her shoulder and her words which come from a place far too deep to have been read or learned by books, these are ancient words of an old soul who have been here before. She is the Lily of the Valley, and the soothing spring ones go to in order to seek comfort and reflection.