sacred dance, rituals, shamanism, witch, live and death, play
“The symbol of Goddess gives us permission. She teaches us to embrace the holiness of every natural, ordinary, sensual dying moment. Patriarchy may try to negate body and flee earth with its constant heartbeat of death, but Goddess forces us back to embrace them, to take our human life in our arms and clasp it for the divine life it is – the nice, sanitary, harmonious moment as well as the painful, dark, splintered ones.
If such a consciousness truly is set loose in the world, nothing will be the same. It will free us to be in a sacred body, on a sacred planet, in sacred communion with all of it. It will infect the universe with holiness. We will discover the Divine deep within the earth and the cells of our bodies, and we will lover her there with all our hearts and all our souls and all our minds.”
― Sue Monk Kidd, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter: A Woman’s Journey from Christian Tradition to the Sacred Feminine
If I look inside myself, who do I find? A lone wanderer, a curious soul, a dabbling witch, a willful young woman, an evil bitch or rather the village idiot? A hopeless dreamer or a strong passionate artist?
I count myself lucky in being gifted with a rich imagination. It is my inner world and the archetypes I’ve put in there ever since I was a kid that saves me time and again from the pitfalls in daily live.
This is a self-portrait, mixed media. I can see a little of the dabbling witch in there, don’t you?
This illustration in ink, pencil and watercolor was originally intended as a birth announcement card for Loe, my dear sisters first child. As I am writing this post, little Loe is already a devilishly charming, willful little lady of 2 years. I really tried to make a ‘classic’ birth announcement card, but ended up with this illustration. It just felt right for me at the time
The Wind weeps for her lost child
If I listen carefully
I can hear her endless pleas
“Where is my baby?”
“Where is my beautiful Dawn?”
“You cannot miss her;
The red of her Dress blossoms
all the way up to her cheecks”