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Renegades at the beach! 11/2004
7 of 9 Pilgrimage: February, 2003
I was excited to be invited on 7 of 9’s annual beach trip retreat. I had been a member of this Spiritual Women’s group since 1998 or so, but when I moved from Creedmoor to Boone, I had to leave it. It was one of the hardest things about moving to the mountains.
I had the farthest to drive, so I arrived around midnight on Friday. I think I only woke one Woman up as I tried to be quiet about putting the food I brought away in the kitchen and carring in just what I needed for the night. They had saved the bedroom on the first floor for me and even made my bed. As I enetered, I felt instantly welcomed and loved.
In the morning I exchanged hugs and wonderful accepting energy from my friends—both those I had been circling with and the three newest members of 7 of 9 that had joined since I had moved. I knew the three already so it did not feel strange having them among us. When we all went out onto the deck to celebrate the Directions and firm up our Sacred Circle, 9 white Ibis (? they were definitly not seagulls or pelicans) flew above us--the same number of Women.
We spent the day talking, catching up, walking along the shore, feeling the ocean breeze in our hair, writing in a “slam” book Beth brought, and making prayer bead necklaces. I did not feel moved to do any beading—too tedious and small. I felt the influence of the ocean, which was huge, inviting my mind and body to expand and flow instead of narrowing my focus onto a very small area. The rest of the group made beautiful creations; we all brought beads and traded them. Those that worked created beautiful art. I am still amazed at the talent in this group of Women. Among the necklaces completed was the 7 of 9 necklace. It was stared a year or more ago and beads were added during our weekend. Beth fed the birds and they became very brave, coming right up on the deck.
All of us spent time walking along the beach… alone and in groups.
Then there was the cleaning and sorting of our found things… Many of us brought back our treasures of shells… rocks… corals… Wonderfully rounded, smooth and colorful rocks….
There was lots of animal life… On the beach… Even on the deck… Even the dead fish lying among the sand and rocks took on a certain beauty. I talked to a fisherman briefly. We talked about isolation and where we wanted to live. He was retired and lived an hour away, and although he lived alone, had friends for companionship close by. I told him there was no such thing as being too isolated. The more alone, the better. We agreed we had different desires and then he described the differences between two different fish. He drew them in the sand so I could see the shapes.
And there were sunsets.
Beautiful sunsets that changed slowly and gracefully from the blush of pink in the distance…
To the intensity of red and orange…
To the purples and blues…
And finally to the deep blues and darker purples… Then black… black… black and we could no longer see where the sky ended and the ocean began, but just listened to the voices that spoke that ancient tongue.
I, lost in the modern world, strained to understand the beauty
and simplicity of their song.
And another day begins!!!
Brydie played her drum, welcoming the sun and another day spent in the company of wise, powerful and beautiful Women…
Only the Brave among us went into the ocean. The rest of us just walked along the shore or watched the waves caress the beach.
Time to go get the fresh sea food for our dinner!! 7 of 9 at the beach NEVER go hungry!!
In the mean time, Doris, with the help of some of us, created beautiful Labyrinths on the beach. She did a large one, then a smaller one. This is one of my all time favorite photos of Brydie--a Maiden and a Crone in one body, chasing, then being chased by, the waves!
At dusk we did a beach Offering to Yemeya.
We relaxed our last evening together… Beth inducted us, each one, into the Sisterhood of the Rack, Shoelace and Fork….
Kira, Brydie and I stayed till Monday. Kira said there a sense of loss with the others gone… We took a last walk on the beach. At first we stayed together, talking, turning over interesting artifacts with our toes. Then Kira walked ahead, wanting to go faster, and Brydie turned to go back. I kept walking, much slower. We each had our introspective alone time even as we were together.
We made a final offering to the Gods, a libation with mead, fruit and bread. Brydie asked that people everywhere drink the mead and feel compassion for each other.
I found a plastic toy soldier on the beach and as the waves buried it in the clean sand prayed for the strife and wars to be over so someday there would be no toy soldiers because there would be no war…
7 of 9 Pilgrimage
February, 2003
Pilgrimage: n 1: a journey of a pilgrim; especially one to a shrine or a sacred place. 2: the course of life on earth.
Pilgrim: n 1: one who journeys in foreign lands: Wayfarer 2: one who travels to a shrine or holy place as a devotee.
The Sisters set out on their pilgrimage early in the morning. They helped each other clothe themselves in their white robes and black shawls. It was still cold and the mists wove around them as they put on their prayer necklaces and stone bracelets, shouldered their knapsacks and picked up their River Birch walking sticks. The trip had been planned for a long time, and for a long time they had waited for the right moment. The moment was now and, giving a last look at their sanctuary, they turned to the unknown road ahead; their only guide an old cloth map. The journey would take two years and they had only what they could carry.
They ventured together down the lane, far past the familiar sights and landscape. The cold of the dark months changed to the coolness of early spring. Finally they arrived at the first Sacred Place-- the Tree of Ribbons. Here they rested and tied their own ribbons on the sacred tree. Some were moved to speak, others remained quiet. They stayed for three days, resting, meditating and questing for wisdom. On the third day, they stood in a circle, breathed together for a moment, then adjusted their shawls, picked up their travel things and continued their pilgrimage to the White Temple.
Time passes and the weather turns warm, then hot. Their shawls protected them from the sun now, instead of keeping them warm. They saw the old Pine Tree ahead. They stopped; some Sisters prayed out loud, others sat with their own thoughts of fire and passion. Three days they stayed here in this Sacred Place. Before they left they stood hand in hand, feeling the warmth of their spirits pass from palm to palm. They faced the west and began again their walk to the White Temple.
The heat of summer cools into autumn as they walk on. They saw the remnants of the old village ahead. It had been abandoned long ago, but the Sacred Well was still there, visited by pilgrims such as themselves. Libations were poured with thanks, spoken and silent. The sweet well water was drunk, passed from one to the other, “may you never thirst, “ “blessed be.” They slacked their dusty thirst before the journey continued to the White Temple.
The first snows caught the group as they reached the Plains, the last Sacred place before they reached their final destination. A single white pillar reached towards the blue sky. The Sisters gathered around it and looked out over the miles of gently rolling meadows. They took bread out and lay it on the ground around the pillar. For three days they meditated on the sweet Earth, then took up their packs and left for their final destination; the White Temple.
Finally, they saw the distant billowing curtains of the White Temple. The journey had been long and the 7 of 9 pilgrims entered the protection and comfort of the temple gratefully. As they sank onto the stools, a Sister lit the small fire and they turned to the Goddess of this place, represented by the cornstalks sitting on the largest stool. Silent interaction began, each of the Women communing with the Goddess and Spirits that drew her attention as music played softly in the background. As each Woman ended her communion with the Goddess, she took a part of the body, offered freely by the Goddess, and fed it to the small flame. She kept another part for herself. Each received a travel feather and left their gratitude.
When all the Sisters were done, they picked up their walking sticks, shouldered their knapsacks and began the yearlong journey back. Each of the sacred places were briefly visited again; acknowledged by word, gesture and chant.
