One day I felt depleted and weary. Like many women, I wear many hats – in the home, out in work, with a need also for that quiet space before the sun rises, before the household awakens, to be in prayer and silence. But I realized that day when I felt so empty, that I had to walk in the hills. I had just an hour.
I walked up a trail past oaks, madrone and cedars, and then sat by a creek which was full because of recent rains. The sound of water flowing over rocks soothed my mind. The sun came down through the woods, touching upon a fern, a mossy rock.
Leaning against an old cedar, I became aware of how the heart sings in such beauty. And then it was time turn back, walk down the trail, go home and cook dinner.
That night while I was drifting into sleep, there came an unusual image. It was of a faucet with a thick column of water pouring down from it.
I understood this language of water, which has come in dreams and images for many years. But I had never seen it like this – with such force and energy.
As we learn this language, and as women, reconnect to its flow, this will help us and help life.
And all this I was reflecting on, when I came to our circle one day at the homeless shelter.
That day, after meditating, one of the women who traveled all across the country trying to forget a difficult childhood, realized when she saw the Golden Gate Bridge that she could go no further west. She had to stop and be.
She began to realize that was home. She had made a home within herself for this grace.
And then another woman spoke up and shared from such a deep and quiet place. “I have lived here for ten years. I come from Guatemala. But now I feel at home here. Look around at you all. We are the community. We are home to each other.”
When she finished talking, there was no tiredness among the women. Instead, there was a deep sense of love and vitality.
So I wonder, if we could remember this water, this grace, more in our lives, then we could know that we are caring for the sacred in life. This, I have found, requires power. I have seen this in dreams: A mountain lion that must be respected. The eye of a lion that peers into one’s own depths. An ancient feminine figure found in newly tilled earth.
I have found that this strength is needed if we commit to working with the water of grace. Otherwise distractions tear at the edges of our memory. We forget, again and again. This Feminine consciousness is more accessible now, calling to us, and helping us to find again, perhaps in a new way, the knowledge of who we are.