Goddess Emerges

Courtesy of Soul Sister.

Cracking the Egg

Warm and protected, safe inside, I lack all worry, fear and responsibility. I curl around my very self and sleep a perfect sleep. But not for long. A faint stirring troubles my heart and soul and wakens what has lain dormant-asleep-unborn. For how long?

The time of gestation is done; the moment of birthing is near. It's a dangerous business birthing another; it's terrifying to give birth to oneself. What if it doesn't go well and I'm not fully formed? Suppose I emerge from this sanctuary only to be instantly caged by fate? I resist the urge to stretch, to push against the walls of what has been my haven, but instinct is powerful. I tap tentatively, desperate for an answer of certainty but none comes. I scratch feebly with my nails then claw and kick until I am free.

Surrounded by shards of debris I am higher than my mind could ever have imagined. I perch on the edge of a cliff, in the midst of a snow-capped mountain range, extend my wings, catch a thermal. . . . . . . and soar!

by Barbara Banta

E is for the Cosmic Egg

Cosmic Egg by Lori Gloyd

Broody Incubation

The folded arms of the bird goddess cradle you and your creative self amid a deep, watery, abyss of cosmic space.

Hush-a-bye, baby,
in the tree top.
When the wind blows,
the cradle will rock.

Gently the bird goddess places you and your creative self within an egg shaped urn, together with a flask of life giving blood

Toora, loora, loora
Toora, loora, li
Toora, loora, loora
Hush, now, don't you cry
Toora, loora, loora
Toora, loora, li
Toora, loora, loora
It's an Irish lullaby

The bird goddess squats upon the egg, within which you and your creative self lie, arms pressed tightly against your body. The bird goddess concentrates, broods, provides warmth.

You concentrate, brood, enjoy the warmth
Images drift before you

Hush-a-bye don't you cry,
Go to sleep-y, little baby.
When you wake you shall have
All the pretty little horses.
Blacks and bays, dapple grays,
Coach and six white horses.
Hush-a-bye don't you cry,
Go to sleep-y, little baby.

Upon incubation you and your creative self emerge from the egg only to see a world that looks different. You experience a sense of renewal and regeneration and a vision of purpose forms.

Find a way to record and communicate that vision.

by Heather Blakey July 2006