Fall season (and a pair of hands)



You Fall
Way down to the ground
You are scattered into pieces
Some large, cutting bits
Some small dust like particles
You stay there and you realize all the messy brokenness
Your heart pulses
You do not move
Yet, suddenly
Your diligent pair of hands goes on about
It starts to gather things up
Cleaning
Sweeping you and the floor where you lay scattered and broken
Your hands go on
As life hands
Ever when you are unable to

Like Baba Yaga’s hands
They will have two functions:
They will help your young innocent Vasalisa girl
As she sleeps
While she’s lost, motherless, alone
They will work the world out for her
Digging poppy seeds from dirt
Separating them into two clear piles
When she wakes up
It will be done
It will feel like a miracle
Life strength acts through us
It works its way through

 Second function of the pair of hands is to turn you
Into a wise wild Baba crone
To the very last bit
Of your very last stone bone
They will go about and get things done
Yes
But they will not overwork themselves
Because they simply know
Everyone has a pair of hands of their own
Working as perfectly as hers do

Back to the broken pieces
Of course
Some pieces will be lost in the sweeping
And fly off
To sky and star and distant landscapes
Every egg shell must break for a bird to grow

As your hands get you together into a living patchwork
Sewing the pieces, weaving the leaps of void into broidery
You are brocade woman
You are unique fabric of scar and tender waters
You are overflowing
Young and old and unknowable
Yet reliable, faithful, devotional

Honour the pair of hands
They do so much everyday
For you and all your relations
Make sure
That at the end of the day
Your hands come together with Heart
And pray
Not a prayer someone wrote
But the very prayer spirit whispered at your broken ear
As your hands were sweeping the dust off you
And making it all clear
The prayer that will not forget you
As long as you do not forget
That prayer has the power to mend brokenness
And restore Love
No matter how long, how slow it might be
It is being
Like your hands,
are continuously doing
so you are continuously getting done
Love is continuously repairing
Oneness is made of many
Many, many, many
All of those each of us is
Whether we know it or not

Care for the hands:
Let them thrive
Touch
Feel
Weave
Create
Make sure you keep them away from
Spending too much time scrolling up and down trough screens
Of other’s people life’s and deeds
Recognize what your hands are
and stop trying to turn them into something they should be
Don’t dumb and numb yourself through your fingers
Let them dance and cook and paint
Dive them into unknown holes
How else would you get to know what’s in?
Oracles are waiting to be created
Into the future you are crafting now
Take these hands to Earth
Plant, and Love and sow
They are dirt, fertile soil
Seeds and roots and worms and birds
Let them get dirt(y)
With life
Keep them away from sanitisers
And fake nails
That prevent them from looking and feeling like they do
That prevent you from touching into fullness
Nails are claws
Don’t let plastic beauty kill your ability
To be an eagle, a falcon, a wild mama boar

Make sure you touch
Sex
New-born babies
Old wrinkles in crone’s faces
Change diapers
Life is not disgusting
It is full and rich
In substance, natural expression
Transformation, elimination
Touch these places in you and others
Make sure you do so
Gloveless
Jewelless

Make sure your hands can finish what they start
And can let go of that which cannot be finished
And can stop right in the middle when a pause is needed
And re-start later
And ask for or offer an extra pair of hands
For care, co-creation, cooperation

Bare hands
Bear hands
Baba Yaga is coming through these hands
To the heart of You
And so
Whatever was done
Or undone
Or not done

At the end of the day
you simply acknowledge
Your hands have worked together with Heart
Always in all ways
And you are the living prayer
That you gift to yourself, others and Life

Iris Lican


HENNA RITUAL

HENNA RITUAL
You sit by the stairs
Your child rests in bed
The day is done
You have outdone yourself again
At least a thousand invisible tasks
Fall behind each woman who has a family
Daily
Silent service
Baggy eyes, pale skin
Loving, fierce mother heart
Beating deep within

Then, you boil some water
Inner birth about to be
The green henna fills the kitchen
The scent of Earth is everywhere
You are so tired that a grateful
Apreciation comes through your eyes
onto life
No matter what happenned
Or didn't happen
As stillness takes the house
Turning it into a home, a nest
Into the night

Pour some gold olive oil
Dry and oily complement
And remember:
All about the dark small olive is pure gold

Stirr well: henna, olive oil, boiling water
The wooden spoon turns red
Listen, hear well
This is the time to mother yourself
So you can be a source again by morning

Let the mix cool down
Apply gently to hair and scalp
As you cover the bathroom
in beautiful clay
Remember: even mess can be beautiful
In the end of the day

Cover your head with a cloth
Feel the rootedness coming through
Your head is heavy with henna paste
Your weight gets grounded
Onto Earth, path, home, direction

Wait at least one hour
Pray
If you don't know how
Sing and create prayers that suit
And voice what you live, feel, need, dream
For yourself, others, Earth
Have some warm soup
Or a cup of tea
Allow yourself to be nourished
By whatever simplicity surrounds you

Thousands of women since the dawn
Of times
Have birthed themselves
Through the simple cerimony
Of henna
In the silence of their homes
Alone or in sister's arms

Remove and rest
Now let life guide you
And do the rest

Eclipse

As the eclipse moves through the sky
May we remember:
We do not shine alone, we are a shining star amongst stars.
We do not stand alone, we stand from Divine Earth with countless brothers and sisters of all kinds
We are the fathers and mothers of all that is.

As the eclipse moves through the sky
May we commit to recognition
Of all of our invisible relations:
The animal and the plants we eat become who we are,
If they can offer their life to sustain ours what can we do to thank and give to them and to others in this profound measure?
The water we drink becomes blood, the air we breath becomes the life moving us along the way.
Do they ever complain? Criticize? Judge? Then, why would we?
May we be like water and air, offering themselves kindly, to all, no exceptions.
May we smile gently at strangers, honnour the mistery everyone carries in their heart and the mistery in all beings.
May we shine like the Sun, to all, no exceptions. Knowing when to rise and when to set.
May we embrace ciclicity and change with surrender and awareness, like the moon.
May we honour the cosmic fertile darkness, all that we do not know or understand.
Like Earth, may we give further more then we ask for and care with compassion and wisdom for ourselves and all our visible and invisible relations.
As the eclipse aligns sun, moon and earth may we align actions, thoughts and feelings. Align ourselves as a thread of the sacred web of life. Align our own good with the good of All.
May our pain guide us and others in compassion as we become, patiently, wisdom medicine.
May we commit to Grace and Gratitude
All my Love

Blue Woman





Blue Woman
Paints the caves
Blue Woman
Holds the knifes
Blue Woman Fiery eyes
She tends for birth and those who die
Blue Woman knows the signs
Blue Woman weaves the signs
No straight lines
Infinite lines
Blue Woman
Never dies
Bare breasts
In Winter skies

She’s the fading ground of seasons
And the Earth beneath the floor
My bones
Tender ashes
Shall rest
In your cave nest
Once as before

The grave of the beauty
The stone of the wise
We are all crafted
To be one of a kind

Empty wide open to hold
Nothing to loose
You are who you are
Not just the fate you choose 

Image: Sara Baga

Dark Mother









Dark Mother
Paints the caves
Dark Mother
Holds the knifes
Dark Mother
Keeps the strings to the tapestry of all life
Dark woman
Fiery eyes
She cares for those who birth and die
Dark Mother knows, she makes the signs
You’re free to fail and fall and try
No straight lines, cycles and tides
Infinite lines
Dark Mother never lies
Naked breasts in winter skies
She’s the fadind ground of seasons and the Earth of pulsing floor
My naked bones shall become your cave once more
Craft my soul and the soul of the world
Nothing to hold, nothing to lose
You are who you are
Not just the fate you choose