The Eyes of Mary

In our depths there is wisdom. I was told in a dream that we need to study the depths so that we can truly be of service to life.How do we do this, in our lives? How can we become more aware of seeing the depths where the healing comes from, where change can happen?

This morning as I began to write, a story wanted to be told. It has to do with what took place at the women’s shelter recently. In our meditation meeting with the women there, something happened – a magic, a grace.

I shared with the women a dream I had many years ago. I had not thought of this dream for a long time. But suddenly it was there.

It was a dream that came in response to a question I had inwardly asked, about the direction of my work. The dream showed me that the feminine was where I needed to place my focus. In the dream was the moon. It shone softly down on the earth in rays, soft and diffuse, but so powerful that they spread over the areas that are inflamed due to conflict and war. In the dream I heard a voice say: Wherever the feminine touches, there is healing.

Ginny, who co-facilitates the group, then remarked on a small jar of rosemary that was next to a candle on the table behind us. She had just found out that rosemary is known as the Rose of Mary. It is said that Mary spread her blue cloak over a white-blossomed rosemary bush when she was resting, and the flowers turned blue.

She also shared that the common blue flower that lines the rural roads, Forget-me-not – is known in France as Les Yeux de Marie, or the Eyes of Mary.

I wasn’t sure why Ginny spoke about this, but our meetings are often like this – a sharing that opens up a space. Structured, but empty as well.

Several women had to leave early, so towards the end of the meeting there was just one woman. She asked about her recurring dreams. She spoke softly, with a gentle trace of her native tongue in Latin America, where she lived 20 years ago.

She walks in the night, she said, and prays, before going to bed in the shelter. She prays to become more conscious, to have more compassion and to give good energy to the women in the shelter. In her dreams she is caring for women, protecting them.

I sensed that her dreams had to do with an inner experience of caring for her own wounded feminine, and that as she becomes aware of this, she would also be able to help other women, simply by her presence.

From her dream I learned that something in her had been cut off; she had not been able to blossom. But now, as she began to understand her dreams, a light can enter these dark places within.

As we talked about this possibility, she placed her face in her hands. I knew she was crying. The room was quiet. Touching her heart, she said, “It is soft here now. This is a gift.”

On that day, the divine feminine, so barely understood by the mind, was shining down its soft light.

I think of the Eyes of Mary – this simple flower, so commonplace, that thrives alongside rural roads and neglected places.  I think of how we hold the beauty inside us, how we hold it for one another, and for the earth.