I am currently blogging at Silver Moon Cove. I may be (attempting to) consolidate that site into this one. It’s a (passing) thought anyway. Perhaps an overly ambitious one, since I feel the two blogs express different aspects of my journey through this mortal coil. I’m not sure what possessed me to have more than one blog, but perhaps it was meant for me to have more than one to explore different facets of connection to others and myself.
May your journey always be safe and your path illuminated, MW 🙏🏼
In mysticism bees are regarded as spirit messengers. ‘Talking to the bees’ was a way to relay messages to loved ones who passed over.
In yogic doctrine, where each chakra emits a different sound, the Muladhara (root chakra) emits a hum likened in yogic literature to the hum of a bumblebee.
Throughout the Mediterranean, the appearance of bees marked the divine feminine energy of the spring season and its qualities of rebirth, renewal and fertility.
Ephesan coins from the 5th century BCE depict a queen bee as the Great Mother, connected to womb healing and divine sexuality.
In ancient texts the Bee Goddess represents the spirit becoming intoxicated with the pollen of knowledge.
In Hebrew, the word for bee is devorah (Deborah), the name of the Hebrew Prophetess, Devorah. The bee is the only creature that has the Hebrew word dabar as its root. Dabar is the Hebrew word for speak – l’dabar is the infinitive “to speak.” (V and B are the same letter in the Hebrew alphabet).
So what is the relationship between bee and dabar? The Hebrew word for honey symbolizes your thoughts flowing out through your lips in the words that you speak and the way you communicate. Do your words reflect your intentions? Are you communicating authentically and effectively?
In Shamanism, the world’s oldest healing tradition, bees inhabited the sacred grove, the enchanted forest and the timeless realm between the living and the dead. Honey was considered a taste of wisdom from the other world. Bee Shamanism is said to awaken the Sacred Feminine.
Bees were familiars of the Goddess and referred as the “Birds of the Muses.”
Bee Shamanism has its roots with the Melissae — Bee Priestesses in Asia Minor, Greece, and Rome. Melissai (or Melissae) are Greek and Latin words for bees. The Melissai prophesied through oracular trances. The Greek word for this state of altered consciousness is enthusiasmos, meaning within is a god, the root of the word enthusiasm.
The knowledge of the Bee Goddess and Bee Prophetess is considered to be stern (like a sting) and enlightening by opening your mind to Truth and Clarity you could not see or face before.
Breath, fog and raindrops Seeping into my soul My eyes turned upwards Toward the promise of the clouds While my feet Are drenched in mud puddles Sending shivers deep Into my bones
The view from my room Is spattered with raindrops In the heartbeat of the rain I can see dams breaking Sweat dripping down Dampened bedsheets Arms outstretched People under somber umbrellas Separated by their fears
This little poem is literally something I dreamed up. I usually read Oracle or Angel cards, not runes, yet I dreamed about runes and remembered the words to this poem when I woke up. “Take now what the future holds?” Food for thought!
Today I vividly recall The embrace of the grim reaper Today I remember the sharp nick Of his kiss upon my soul His passion distracts me From the Truth Life is too fleeting and fragile To remain face down Spewing out mouthfuls of dirt
Recalling my many encounters with the grim reaper. Cheers to dVerse and Whimsygizmo. We are writing quadrilles using the word “nick” — meaning steal, timeliness (nick of time) or small cut.
The bridges you’ve burned smolder behind me Staining the innocence of a bright new day Through the thick, dark smoke of brokenness I see the outline of new bridges [to jump from, cross over or burn to ashes] Shimmering and swaying in the distance, Whispering promises that make a mockery of my fears Looking over my shoulder one last time I see the bridge where you faltered Refusing to cross over onto solid ground with me Within the blink of an eye it vanishes A mere specter in the realm of what could have been Before you succumbed to your predilection For gasoline and matches
The Serpent Goddess winds up your spine Wrapping around your wounded heart Evoking cool ocean breezes Followed by the heat of the desert sun A wild taste of freedom shoots upward Engaging every inch of your existence In a sensual dance Droplets of blood rain fall steadily Washing away all your pain Colors flash through your cerebral cortex Fiery red flashes of anger Indigo blue ripples of peace Sea green waves of bitterness Amber orange rays of hope
You become an Old World lizard A hungry panther An Indian Star tortoise bridging heaven and earth
An angel with steely wings Swoops in Challenging your beliefs Pitting itself against your humaneness Pressing sharp talons into your flesh
Shape-shifting You become billows of smoke Purging and cleansing Your tortured soul
You are a crystal clear river now Flowing fiercely and freely Calmly and powerfully Kundalini’s work is done
Cheers to Open Link Night at dVerse and our gracious host, Grace.
Kundalini is divine feminine energy in the form of a coiled snake that lies dormant at the base of the spine. A Kundalini Awakening is an intensely powerful spiritual experience through altered and expanded states of consciousness that uncoils the snake and pulls the energy up through the chakras to the crown. Kundalini energy is the source of our creative power and spiritual gifts.
In Kabbalah, the serpent represents our ego-self. Ego-self blocks our connection to Source.
I dwell in shade Engulfed by grays No color palette to Enliven my days Shadows take hold Where my life enfolds I have no rainbows To enliven my soul All my words drift Into soundless mist I look into the mirror And I don’t exist
I have no face I’ve been erased All that I am is painful space
A black cat mewls piteously upon my gravestone the stench of decay fills my nostrils unearthly roots encircle my legs smoke sulfur excrement the alchemy of hell turns my soul to dust wizening eroding decomposing soil blackens my lips as i begin this descent into the underworld where fire consumes my shame
Underground II
Risen and fallen a lone candle burns upon my tombstone a feral cat scratches at my grave roses wither on the vine as the goddess of the underworld invokes my name pain is my destiny into the bowels of oblivion i accept my fate
Mother Wintermoon 