As I sit in the warm sunshine of a surburban café window, losing myself in search of a new story, I once again feel as I did when the Priestess first appeared in my life a mere twelve months ago.

Young-woman-drinking-coffee-and-reading-book-sitting-indoor-in-urban-cafe

Awed.
Unnerved.
Confused.
Enchanted.
Daunted.

 

Why the call of the Priestess?

She who calls not for her own sake but for that of the Goddess?

She who calls

in a voice that you cannot fail to understand.
If you have heard that call, there will be nowhere in the world to hide from her voice.

The Mists of Avalon

 

For a while now, I have found both direction and solace from my Urban Priestess training.

morgan le fayeBut now the Priestess is stretching her limbs, poking her tunic-clad elbows towards the edges of my current, albeit expanded, comfort zone. She nudges me to lean on my staff and stride into the unknown anew. She commands me to take up my sacred tools – my pen and my voice – and make myself heard.

She dares me to embark on a new level of working with her energies, and those of the Goddess, one that has me emerging from the confines of the private, from the safety of my computer screen.

She urges me to venture out into the world, to make new commitments, to become visible in new ways.

She calls me to embody what I know in private as well as in public.

To see and be seen – even by myself – with new eyes.

 

The path of the Priestess leads to no hiding place.

 

And here I sit with my overflowing cup of emotions.

 

Awed.circle of hands
Unnerved.
Confused.
Enchanted.
Daunted.

 

Tired of hiding.
Scared to show up.

 

And a tiny bit excited.
For I know I am not alone.

 

Everywhere I look, even from behind the comforting shield of my laptop, the voice of the Priestess, the Goddess, the Divine Feminine, is making itself heard.

 

I am not alone.

Far from it.

I am merely invited to join the chorus.

 

circle of women

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