Dedicated to Patricia Monaghan, 1946 – 2012
Every spring I think of Patricia Monaghan. She passed away just this past November (see Wikipedia), leaving us without her divinely inspired presence, but gifting us with the brilliance of her exquisite words. Monaghan was a teacher and a seer; she brought us the gifts of goddess wisdom throughout all time. Her abundant works, including a full encyclopedia of Goddesses and Heroines, reflect a passion matched by few.
For many years, Monaghan’s words about spring have soothed me through the rough and crackly transition of this time of year. I don’t remember when it first began, but I know that her poetry and prose long ago became embedded into the roots of my own hatching into the world of the sacred feminine.
“And when it comes, spring does not simply blow upon the warming air like blossom kisses. Spring is as much a time of pain as of growth…
Twenty years ago, I charged into the exploding world of goddess lore. With little previous knowledge or experience, I teamed up with my friend Tommie and we took on the task of teaching two nascent Unitarian courses for women: “Cakes for the Queen of Heaven” and “Rise Up and Call Her Name.” Both were introductions to the history of the divine aspects of the feminine and they were powerful beginnings for me. A lifelong journey in the footsteps of the Great Mother was ignited.
“ … Imagine the egg, the bulb, the bud. All begin contained – all potential, endless promise…
From these two ground breaking seminars in our church in Ridgewood, New Jersey, many projects and groups sprung forth: book groups, art circles, social action groups, and more. Being an apprentice ritual junkie, I connected with an amazing like-minded group of women, and our vision was catalyzed. Silvia, Lisa, Shawn, Janet, Mary, Diane and myself formed our own full moon circle.
“… There is a quiet dignity in such presence. There is no strain, no disturbance by passion or power. The being rests within itself…
One Winter Solstice, I gave everyone in our circle Monaghan’s poetry book, Seasons of the Witch*. It was a revelation for us through winter, spring, summer and fall. It guided us through many of the ups and downs of our womanhood. Births, deaths, illness, divorces, heartbreaks, awakenings. Whatever we were going through, whatever changes the sun, moon and earth brought us, this book guided us with exquisite language and a deep reverence for ourselves and the sacred feminine within each of us.
“… But when growth begins, things break. Shells and bud casings, those intact perfections, fall away. What is revealed is unprotected tenderness. It is no illusion, this fragility. A fierce storm can shred the new leaf, a cat consume the tiny bird, a hapless word pierce the young woman’s heart …
“For my sisters,” Monaghan’s brief book dedication read. And all women were her sisters. She spoke to the eternal and the mundane in each of us. She danced with Venus amidst the cosmos, and laid with Persephone in the fallow depths. Wherever She was, she was. And her words came back to us through all of our tears and laughter.
“… To the beholder, there is only beauty: the frail green hue that rivals all of autumn’s glory, the maiden gaze with its vulnerable longing. Springtime empowers its witnesses. And the woman gazing back may feel, indeed, the riveting power of her growth and potential. Or she may feel only the pain of new skin against cold wind, of exposed flesh against cruel stares …
In the newly empowered blossoming of women in their prime; in the way one feels a timeless experience and doubts it can ever end; in the enthusiasm of the burgeoning feminine, we grew. Extending branches outward, we tested the boundaries of our circle, even as the ends began to fray. More members. More rituals. Less meetings. Cancellations. Joyful reunions. Uncertainty. Discovery. Boredom. We went on. Beltane bawdiness! Maypole fairy dances. Apple meditations. Honoring ancestors.
“… There are times the hatchling yearns for the shell, the woman for her girlhood. There are times the new body seems alien and ill-formed, the new skills awkward and mistaken, the new knowledge not power but frailty. Growth may be exhilarating, but it is never easy …
And I would like to think that our full moon circle brought out the best in each of us. That we each were blessed in our gifts. And that we took these things forward. Didn’t Silvia get her Masters degree? Didn’t Lisa start a new business? Didn’t Mary’s art become infused with the sacred? Didn’t I begin to sing and sing… from my soul … in a way that led me to my true voice?
“… And it is costly. Just as the bulb devours itself in order to burst above the soil, just as the hatchling digests its egg’s world, the woman tears springtime out of herself. She has little time for generosity; she is focussed within, on her deepest movements, her pain, her hopelessness. She is all stunned inwardness …
I felt I had discovered a new way to see the world, and I could never go back. I felt the urgency of it all. I was a therapist, and I needed to bring this awakening into my life’s work. Long ago, in a dream, I had heard the Voice tell me what my mission in life was. “You are here to empower women,” She said.
“… She is one, alone, unique. She is pierced with wonder at her existence …
I wanted to take the work of the her words, and of our beautiful full moon circle, with me. I wanted to march it into my bones. I wanted to let it unfold. I wanted to carry the torch forward. To listen deeply, and to call to the deepest yearnings of those I served. To be a guide, a mentor, and a channel to the sacred. To live my life at the feet of the Mother Earth’s unfolding beauty.
“… And from this wonder, she creates her world. It is a new world, for the world has never before been inhabited by her singular being. Her creation is a dance of wonder and power, of energy and discovery. Her dance draws all eyes, for although she has never before lived, she lives now, and in living changes the very essence of the world …
Our full moon circle loosened and broke the edges of its container. Each of us grew into our bigness in the world, and became passionate, and beholden, to the paths we had created. We spun out: to the coast of Maine, to Colorado’s mountains, to the Jersey Shore and a Pennsylvania farm … to new loves, new jobs, new inspirations, and new incarnations.
It was the full moon circle of women in all their fullness. It was the goddess incarnate. It was sisterhood in action. It was human potential and all of its frailties. It was Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Inanna. It was me. It was a book of poetry. It was Patricia Monaghan …
“… She is in each of us. We hold her within us, just as we hold all seasons. Bend towards her when she sings her rasping song of growth. Honor both here pain and all her promises. And remember , too, to dance with her, for she is the power of movement and change. She is the soul within the body, the spirit flashing forth from flesh. She is the power of green life. She is the first being in the world – and she is you. *”
… And she lives on.
* Monaghan, Patricia. Seasons of the Witch. Delphi Press, Inc, Oak Park, IL 1992. Reprinted as a Second Edition in 2002 as Seasons of the Witch: Poetry and Songs to the Goddess, by Llewellyn Publications, St. Paul. Purchase the book here on Amazon.
With thanks to my first “Sisters on the Journey”: Tommie, Shawn, Lisa, Silvia, Diane, Janet, Diane, Mary … and oh so many more!
