Vow Renewal of the Fire-Masters: Urgent Howls from the Mother-World.
Burning white-hot within the collective feminine unconscious is a well-tended fire fueled by the howls of wild women, the compassion of our grandmothers, the wails of those who rage righteously against oppression, belly-born and generative creativity, hip-rocking and primal sexuality, undying diamond-light hope, and the infinite divinity vibrating and pervading all.
Here, in our shared psychic depths, this blaze is surrounded by seven holy fire-keepers who never sleep. These ever-vigilant, so-wise ones are schooled in the cosmic chemistry of stellar fusion, and they understand the weight of their work.
The fire-masters of our Mother-World, these ancient Crones who were birthed in the dark ethereal void long before our red, raw souls came to be, are normally singular in their task; they may share visions of the future, discuss their part in the wild rising, exchange ritual recipes, or counsel one another on their craft, but their paper-skinned hands hold nothing but their fire-irons.
Tonight, as the Ancestors’ Moon looms silver and maternal over a world hanging in the balance, the keepers have laid down their heavy tools for the first time in their recent memory, and their memory is far longer than ours.
There is no rebellion here, only their mandated desire to keep us warm. They are doing all they can now, using all the Witchcraft they know, to keep us from feeling the blood-thickening frost of ego-mad ignorance. We are their children, and their mandate is to protect our united birthright as agents of global transformation. They will protect us with all that they are, and tonight they are outraged.
Tonight, they have handed the blaze’s blessed fate over to us, and they are taking a step back to reaffirm their purpose.
Tonight, these soft-bodied she-wolves who are usually quite docile are sinking their bare feet into deep mud, and they are not moving. Their jaws are set firm, their wrinkled eyes crushed shut, as they struggle to remember their original vows. In the absence of their watch, the fire is swelling larger than it has ever been, tongues of fury licking the repurposed keepers and singeing their clothes.
The fire-masters will not be burned, and tonight their own fem-fire has been reignited to surge forth and infuse the hearts of all women throughout the global community. Tonight, the primal Dark Feminine will rise, and it will not stand down.
The wildest of the fire-masters raises her adorned arms moonward and cries gutturally into the fire: I am the roaming wolf-mother returned to her kin, and I carry the shredded carcass of oppression between my teeth. Women of the world who snap back at those who threaten their bodies, tonight I vow to hear your righteous howls and keep this fire burning.
We will keep this fire burning, the fire-masters proclaim in unison, and the flames ascend so high they lick the Mother-World’s stars like fork-tongued, smoldering serpents.
The oldest of the wise ones raises her arms now, though her limbs no longer straighten, and her ancient voice quivers when she speaks her primeval vow: I am the soft-breasted grandmother holding all who are orphaned by their mother-wounds, and I will sing you lullabies while you mourn. People of the world who yearn so viscerally for an equality they have never known, tonight I vow to love you with the rawest and most unconditional compassion and keep this fire burning.
We will keep this fire burning, affirm the masters, and the bonfire rises so high from the psychic depths of the collective feminine that all bare-footed women on Earth can feel the mud beneath them warming.
The most fearsome fire-master raises her thick, muscled arms now, twisting her battle-worn, blood-smeared face with conviction, and growls: I am the boiling blood-lust in every warrior who was ever born, and I need no rest. Enraged women of the world who have heard their sisters’ stories of rape, abuse, and torture, who have stories of their own, I hear your war-cries, and I offer you an in-the-bones validation of your holy disdain. Tonight, my fury is for you, and I will keep this fire burning.
We will keep this fire burning! Their words are barely audible under the blaze’s roar now, and all women on Earth clench their teeth and clutch their bellies, aware of some unknown ignition from a place they have only visited in their dreams.
The most bejeweled and bright-colored keeper raises her tattooed arms now. Though the other masters cannot hear her words with their ears, they feel them in their wombs: I am the paint-covered Creatrix who is birthing this whole world into being over and over and over again. Women of the world who harbor the fertile void where birth and death coexist within their sacred sacrum, tonight I vow to harness the energy of your soul-work, your sweat and anxious breath, and keep this fire burning.
We will keep this fire burning! Every woman on Earth who is able parts her lips infinitesimally and closes her eyes, sensing a pillar of fire stretching from the planet’s core straight to her heart.
The bare-breasted and wide-hipped fire master raises her arms and croons her proclamation: I am feminine sexuality embodied. I am Lilith’s refusal to be on the bottom. I am the sacred sexual healer. I am the Maiden blessing her lover with moon-blood. I am the swollen-bellied Mother caressing her own skin when she is alone. I am the limitless Elder who senses the orgasmic current of global ecstasy writhing and wrapping around the global kundalini. Women of the world who have reclaimed their sexual power in a world set up to keep you bound to male-dominated desire, caged within false, pornographic perversions that would have you relinquish your own autonomy to please another, tonight and every night, I will keep this fire burning.
We will keep this fire burning! The fire-masters bellow into the flames as the blaze becomes a funeral pyre for the outmoded roles of sex-kitten and ever-untouched virgin. Every woman on Earth who is able rolls her tongue across her teeth and opens her legs a little wider.
The fire-master with pure-white, glowing eyes raises her arms and arches her back, and her words vibrate with the million-tonned force of collective feminine hope: I am our shared future where gender means little and soulful purpose is everything. I am the brilliance of an oppression-less world where life-draining wars are no longer waged, no skin color knows supremacy, and our children are fed, safe, and warm. I am a welcome sign, an open gate, and a fallen fence. I am pooled resources and sufficiency. I am a well-loved planet and re-greened landscape. I am clean air and holy water. I am our fate. I am fearless. Women of the world who know in their bones their fight has not been in vain, who dream of the Mother-World and know this place exists because they can feel the heat of these flames, tonight I bow down in whole-body gratitude to your undying and unfettered desire, and I vow to keep this fire burning.
We will keep this fire burning wail the keepers, and every woman on Earth hears their words in her own language and looks around for the disembodied voices.
The last fire-master raises her arms now, the white halo of divinity arching around her crown: I am every Goddess of every culture, and I am the venerable feminine within every being. I am the primal dark and the diamond light. I am the birthright of everyone to be spiritually autonomous, to choose their own path, to caste their own circles, and to build their own churches. I am the shamed women trapped within their unholy books. I am the ascended master’s lover and the savior’s savior. I am the pulse-beat of the Mystery inside every living cell, and my rhythm is quickening. Women of the world who are scarred by the religions of your childhood, tonight I am brewing a healing salve of liberation for you, and I vow to keep this fire burning.
We will keep this fire burning! The keepers cry out, and every woman on Earth sees the flames in their mind’s eye. Every woman on Earth speaks out loud in unison, raising their own arms, beating the ground, and bidding their children to do the same.
Every woman on Earth howls with them as the seven fire-masters seal their ritual: Tonight, we will keep this fire burning. We will not rest while the mad ones threaten to hold power over our bodies and our land. No threat of abuse will be dismissed. Our jaws are clenched, our will is strong, and our fire burns hotter than their egos. We are wild, we are returned, and we are rising.
We will not sit back and be idle. We are restless change-agents come to claim the future our souls designed when we lived beyond the veil. This is the reckoning. The Motherland is real, and She is wrathful. We are incensed by the ignorance, and our vows are being emblazoned with ire on the ribcages of our kin.
We will keep this fire burning until those crazed by uninitiated egos are blinded by its light and fall down from the heat. We will keep this fire burning in the midst of injustice, and we are tireless in our task. Those who are power-hungry, you do your worst with your words and your weapons, and we will do our best with the same. We will keep this fire burning, and it will outshine, out-burn, and outlive corruption, for its fuel is our resolve, and we have a limitless supply.
Every woman in the world chants with them now as the fire-masters pick up their irons once more, raising them high in solidarity and howling to the Ancestors’ Moon:
We will keep this fire burning!
We will keep this fire burning!
We will keep this fire burning!