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Witnessing a Life Pour Forth Into Times Beyond Now.

 

What if my only role, my inherent place on the Circle, my true inheritance is the great gift of being steady witness to Her?

Like the cliffside eagle watching each day as one would a lifelong lover, seeing only what they have always seen. Every reflection in their eyes shows a thousand faces of timeless beauty.

They see past the scars by delinquent acts of forgetfulness that Her flesh is holy manna. Past the place in Her face where a stream of love poured forth from Her endless devotion — now dry, empty, burning.

What if I have been called like one calls their oldest friend to the bedside vigil of disappearance? To witness a life pour forth into places, spaces and times beyond now. To feel the winds stand still and the omnipresent breath lift from stone. Will we remember there is life in everything then? What happens when the ancient ones go silent and no longer form new bone for the people?

Because this gift was for the people. The faithful. The grateful.

What if I am here to show how to bow our heads and hear the first prayer that shook the dark until a crack appeared, for the Light to birth through and become you?

What if there is nothing to do but empty the agendas and fill our hearts with a song that will help Her make this passage through to the other side? To surrender our time and wash Her body from the grief that pours forth from our eyes. Did you know not all tears are the same?

There is a well inside — a cauldron of gratitude that holds a spell — to release and repair the broken soul in all who mistakenly fell in love with the wrong woman.

There is a quickening in the air that only comes at the threshold of the dying. In this space all is revealed, so all can be healed in one last breath, birthing fresh the first breath on the other side. I know this stirring well, as one does who has died many times to places and faces she loves. Only in the surrender to walk across this veil can the inheritance of wisdom to forge something new be granted.

I remember dreaming Her. Her waters, Her flesh, Her smell, Her nourishment, Her beauty. Do you know that every bird is a soul song from someone you may have known many moons ago, helping you remember how to sing in praise so that every star in the Sky — and the Sky — shines for you? Everything… everything extends its hand to you to help you rise. This life is the midwife to your greatest emergence.

What if all there is to do is sit with my oldest friend, my most beloved, and let Her pour forth her bosom to me? There is yet nourishment to glean from a well that can never run dry, from a Source that can never die. And yet die it all must for the one song She has kept inside her belly for so long can be rebirthed, a lullaby to soothe the children’s cries and thirst.

So I sit and listen, I watch, surrender my knowing of how I arrived at this altar. I simply feel, I breathe in the ever present gift, and renew myself in the presence of what creates Holy Life. It is from this pulpit that I receive my sacrament and the scripture of how to live a life of truth. Every goodbye renders a hello at Heaven’s door.

“You’ll be given love, you’ll be taken care of
You’ll be given love, you have to trust it
Maybe not from the sources you have poured yours
Maybe not from the directions you are staring at
Twist your head around, it’s all around you
All is full of love, all around you.” ~ Bjork

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Shira Stardrift is a Wisdom Keeper of the Feminine Arts. Her cosmology rises from the womb body, physically, spiritually and archetypally. Her devotion to the Goddess in their many faces, and Love of this crazy human experience, is expressed through her writing, her music and in the way she expresses her Life. This is all woven into the medicine bundle that holds space for her client’s journey in this mysterious Life.

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