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Stone Bear July 26, 2018

Posted by wimynspeak in General, Story Tellings.
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Did I ever tell you the story about the time I met the stone bear? It happened countless lifetimes ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was on the hill where the old stone circle ruins now stand. Back then, the circle had not been constructed yet, and wouldn’t be for many generations, and the hill was higher, less rounded by time. The surface was covered with dark, jagged rocks and stiff, course grass; it was not the gentle, comfortable place it is now. On one side of the hill there was a very small cave, which was well hidden and said to be unendingly deep. In fact, the ooooold stories said that one could see the other side of the universe from the mouth of that cave. Of course, no one in my lifetime, then … or now, really, had ever seen such a vision, but I decided that I must do just that.

So, one morning in mid-summer, I woke before all the others and crept away from our encampment. We were nomadic, then, remember, but we would be in this place for some time yet, at least another turning of the moon, for food was plentiful and we could fill our bellies and put on necessary fat stores for winter. Though morning had just dawned, the stars still shone overhead as I made my way… they were much closer and brighter back then … and the spiky grass was damp with dew beneath my feet. I knew how to creep as silently as an owl moves in flight, and I am sure I disrupted no living creature’s rest, nor drew the attention of any of the nocturnal predators returning to their lairs with whom we shared the brightening landscape. I had just reached the path that led up the hill, where the cave and its mysteries lay silent and hidden, when I saw the stone bear.

He snuffled in front of me on the path, moving and breathing like any other living creature, but it was obvious his great hulk of a body was created entirely of stone. Even for the time it was back then, so close to the dawn of humanity, as we call it now, I knew that it was not usual for stone objects to move and breathe thus. This was obviously no carven object, such as the mage’s made, but a living creature made of stone.

I followed the creature, fascinated, and it seemed that, a time or two, it turned its great stone head to see if I was still following, as if it expected me to do just that. I seemed now to be captured by its hard, earthen energy, and felt that even if I were compelled to do so … and I was not … I could not have left the beast’s influence.

Of course the stone bear led me directly to the cave, which, from my vantage point a few steps back along the path, appeared gaping and dark, an abyss into which one might be swallowed whole and alive, to live out one’s allotted time in abysmal nothingness. But the stories promised something greater, a wide expanse of universe that would make the magic and majesty of the star-filled sky over my head seem ordinary, mundane. So I stepped closer to the bear, wanting the promise it seemed to offer.

“You must leave them behind,” I thought I heard the bear whisper when I found I could get no closer. There seemed an invisible field of force about the creature that repelled me, not in the sickening way, but in the true physical sense of the word. I simply could not come closer, no matter that I tried.

“You must leave your most precious thoughts, your fears and inhibitions, your expectations and disappointments, all of them. Leave them here. The others will not find them. Strangers will pass by without noticing them. The treasures of the mind are such that they cannot be recognized once abandoned by the thinker. Even you, upon your return, will not be able to pick them up again, not as they are now.” All of this the bear said without words, but I heard the message nonetheless and vow that this is a true telling.

Be this a curse or a gift? I wondered, and got no answer, and so I came to see that it was neither, but rather a choice that hung on the balance point of my desire. For good or ill, if I wished to see the wonders of the cave, all must be left behind, and the leaving must be understood to be undoable.

The great bear turned away and moved toward the dark entrance of the cave as if certain of my decision.

 

 

© 2018 Linda Maree

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Still Following the Bee: The HeArt of the Hive July 31, 2016

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Honeycomb Moon

Still Following the Bee: The HeArt of the Hive

Intuitive COLLAGE Workshop for Women

Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Saturday, August 13, from 2:00-5:00PM

You have followed the path spiraling into the dark center and now you sit and wait. All around you are the quiet whispers and hums of your sisters coming and going, the magickal music of life. You feel a sweet vibration as it rises through your core, settling around your HeArt, where it emanates a golden light. The honeyed light grows and you are bathed in the realization that the journey to the center has indeed brought you to The HeArt of the Hive, the HeArt of generosity, a HeArt in loving communion with itself.

Come join us as we use the intuitive collage process and simple creative writing prompts to enter into The HeArt of the Hive, where our generosity thrives and love is the sweet honey we share with ourselves.

Open Pricing *   Please pay generously according to your means.

Advance registration is required. Let me know if you can join us!

Still Following the Bee: Queen of the Impossible April 3, 2016

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LogoIntuitive collage workshop for women, Saturday, April 16

The women came together, dancing and singing, under a star-littered sky, the nearly full moon rising just above the treetops. When their circle was formed, they grew silent, listening, hearing at first only the wind in the trees, the gurgling of the nearby river, the call of an owl in the distance. And then the sounds slowly came together to form one sound, one word, the key to their hopes and dreams: Impossible! At first the women were dismayed, until one of them, the one whose face glowed with excitement in the moonlight, said, “Well, aren’t we the lucky ones! There aren’t many who get to unlock the mystery to “Impossible.”

Come join us as we use the intuitive collage process, along with simple creative writing prompts, to find our own key to unlocking the mystery and crowning ourselves Queen of the Impossible.

Open Pricing *   Please pay generously and joy-fully, according to your means.

Advance registration is required.Let me know if you can join us!

Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Saturday, April 16, from 2:00-5:00PM

The Hive of HERstory: Still Following the Bee November 29, 2015

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LogoThe Hive of HERstory: Still Following the Bee

Intuitive collage workshop for women

She was grateful for the passing of years, the accumulation of memories, some happy, some sad; all points on the map of her life. She remembered now her anointing, painful at the time: the buzz, the sting, then . . . oh, the joy when she had been chosen to follow the sweet path of wisdom. They had been her mentors, then, her sisters, joined in a common cause. She saw them rarely these days, but their communal vision still inspired her to follow their ancient wisdom, to keep her vision true . . .

Come join us as we use the intuitive collage process and simple writing prompts to reclaim our sistership with the bees and fire up our vision for ourselves, our loved ones, and our world.

Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Saturday, December 12, from 2:00-5:00PM

Open Pricing *   Please pay as generously and joyfully as possible, according to your means.

Advance registration is required.  Let me know if you can attend.

The Hive of HERstory: Coventina’s Well September 5, 2015

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LogoThe Hive of HERstory: Coventina’s Well

Intuitive collage workshop for women

The wide smile of a waxing crescent moon lit the path for the women, leading them to the hidden grove and the magickal pool they called Coventina’s Well. No one knew for sure how long the Well had been there, but the stories were ancient, telling of a time of lush gardens and abundant resources. The Well could only be found when the light of the moon cast just the right shadows on the path. But once found, one could make any wish, put forth any desire, and it was bound by the laws of Coventina’s magick to manifest . . .

Come join us as we use the intuitive collage process, along with simple writing prompts, to follow the path to Coventina’s Well and discover our own hidden magick within.

Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Saturday, September 19, from 2:00-5:00PM

Open Pricing *   Please pay as generously and joyfully as possible, according to your means.

Advance registration is required.  Let me know if you can attend.

The Hive of HERstory: Perpetual Blessings August 2, 2015

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LogoThe Hive of HERstory: Perpetual Blessings

Intuitive collage workshop for women

They came with generous hearts and full arms, baskets laden with abundance and a desire to share. They came, too, with generous hearts and empty arms, hands open, ready to receive. They came together that new moon night, when the heavens were dark with clouds and the only light that pierced the inky blackness was the shower of heartshine that enveloped them all in the magick of Perpetual Blessings given and received . . .

Come join us as we use the intuitive collage process, along with simple writing prompts, to create a shower of Perpetual Blessings . . . for us, for our beloveds, for our world.

Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Saturday, August 15, from 2:00-5:00PM

Open Pricing *   Please pay generously and joyfully according to your means.

Advance registration is required.  Let me know if you can attend.

The Hive of HERstory: Weaving Our Words June 25, 2015

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LogoThe Hive of HERstory: Weaving Our Words

Intuitive collage workshop for women

The smiling crescent moon called to the women, “Come! Come! Dance with me and weave your stories that I may laugh with you.” And so they did. They danced and sang and their voices created threads of light that flowed about them as their hands fashioned them into intricate knots and spectacular weavings. The tapestry that came together was made of moonbeams and joy and the magick of the women’s words, powerful and true . . .

Come join us as we use the intuitive collage process, along with simple writing prompts, to weave together our own magickal tapestry of joy and power and truth.

Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Saturday, July 18, from 2:00-5:00PM

Open Pricing *   Please pay generously and joyfully according to your means.

Advance registration is required.  Let me know if you can attend.

The Hive of HERstory: Tell a NEW Story May 31, 2015

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LogoThe Hive of HERstory: Tell a NEW Story

Intuitive collage workshop for women

Under the faint light of a waning crescent moon, over eons of time, words were passed from the mouth of one woman to the ear of the next, each word carrying with it a vision, shared again and again, until all knew the stories by heart. And the stories were good. But then the youngest among them turned to the wise woman next to her and said, loud enough for all to hear, “The old stories are wonderful and magickal, but the world is changing and so am I.” And the women knew that she spoke the truth, knew that for the magick to continue, they must learn to Tell a NEW Story . . .

Come join us as we use the intuitive collage process, along with simple writing prompts, to find and tell our NEW story, the one that changes everything.

Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota

Saturday, June 13, from 2:00-5:00PM

Open Pricing *   Please pay generously according to your means.

Advance registration is required.  Let me know if you are joining us.

The Hive of HERstory: Women BEEing Wimyn January 3, 2015

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logoThe Hive of HERstory: Women BEEing Wimyn

Intuitive collage workshop for women, Saturday, January 17, 2015

She is hidden in the depths of the shadow in the dark forgotten hive, where the long-stilled voices of generations of sisters awaken and call to her. “Dig deeper,” they say, “and remember!” She does, her vulnerability baring her heart to the sweet bee medicine of sistership: Women BEEing Wimyn in the cosmic cycle of HERstory. Silent until now, she stands at the edge of the dark, finds her voice, and speaks . . .

Come join us in the hive as we use the intuitive collage process, along with simple creative writing prompts, to connect to our own powerful ancestral wimyn-voices.

Open Pricing * Please pay generously according to your means.

Advance registration is required. Let me know if you can join us!

Date/Time: Saturday, January 17, 2015, from 2:00-5:00PM

Location: Rosemary Court Yoga Studio, 810 Central Avenue, Sarasota, FL

The Weaver January 1, 2015

Posted by wimynspeak in Bee Write!, Uncategorized.
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The weaver put the basket on the ground in front of the girl. Even in its unfinished state, the girl could see that it would be exquisite. Her eyes gleamed. “I want to learn,” she said to the weaver.

“Do you have permission?” the weaver asked, looking her over carefully. She had been wanting to take on an apprentice for some time, but the old ways were frowned upon these days. The baskets, the beads, the trinkets, they were OK – they were commodities to be bought and sold. Economics. That was acceptable. But the craft? The knowledge that went beyond the skill, the weaving? The magickal energy that had to be infused into each piece just so? That had been relegated to the realm of superstition and they had been encouraged to give it up, to stop telling the ancient stories, to forget and become mute. The tourists would buy anyway, so what did it matter? Most of the others were more than happy to give up the old ways, which could often take much longer and make a task more tedious. But she still held fast to the true craft as it had been taught to her, her mother before her, and all the women in her family going back many generations, though these days she didn’t talk about it much.

The girl nodded at first. But then she drew a painted scarf from her pocket and admitted, “She doesn’t know.” She pulled the scarf out to its full length and the weaver had to resist the temptation to grab it, and instead listened patiently as the girl went on. “She doesn’t know and wouldn’t care one way or the other if she did.” The girl spoke without emotion, merely stating a fact. “Daddy’s been gone a long time,” she said, as if that explained things. She shrugged. “But I had this dream, and . . . well . . . I’m not so good with words, but . . . “ The girl hesitated and then thrust the painted scarf at the weaver. “Here,” she said. “I painted my dream on the scarf. The woman there . . . “ and she pointed to an image at the far edge of the material . . . “told me to. Then she said I should talk to you.”

The weaver felt her hands tingle as she took the scarf from the girl. The images were crudely rendered, but the message was unmistakable. The woman to whom the girl had referred was wrapped in a cape that looked, even in its painted simplicity, to be velvet. Deep blue, with a number of small silver beads twinkling like stars against the night sky. And she wore several large colorful rings on her clumsily drawn fingers. The weaver knew exactly who this figure was and she smiled at the girl, handing the scarf back to her, telling her to take it home and sleep with it under her pillow. “Come back when you have another dream to share,” she told her.

That night, the girl did as she was instructed and dreamed once again of the same woman in the dark blue cape. This time the dream woman took the girl’s scarf and wrapped it around her own long, slender neck. A line of letters that the girl had not put there made its way across the scarf and some of the letters fell to the ground and skittered away as the woman tied a firm knot into the material. “Find them,” she said without elaboration.

The girl dropped to her hands and knees and began patting the ground with her fingers, feeling for what her eyes might miss. After some time, she still hadn’t found anything and was in fear of failing the woman’s test, for she was sure that’s what this was, when she looked up and found an A perched in awareness at the apex of a glittering arch. The agile little letter jumped eagerly onto her open hand, landing squarely in the center of her palm. The girl handed it back to the woman, who accepted it without comment.

The girl resumed her search, remembering this time to look both high and low. This was how she found the E trembling and beside itself with worry at the base of a large tree. “Come with me,” the girl coaxed the fearful E. “I’ll take you home.” The little E jumped into the girl’s ear and whispered directions the girl didn’t need. She thanked the E anyway as she handed it to the woman in blue.

“One more letter is still missing,” the woman said to the girl. “Can you guess what it is?” She took the scarf from her neck and held it out between her hands. The girl could see the word PEAK dancing across the painted fabric face of the scarf. Just then the girl heard a loud and persistent hissing and looked down to see a sinuous, snaky letter sliding up her leg. An S! But did it go in front of or at the end of PEAK? Perhaps it was a message that she had more mountainous tests in front of her. She thought for a moment, and then she knew. She took the S and placed it herself on the scarf. SPEAK!

The woman in blue smiled and gave the scarf back to the girl. “Well done,” she said and disappeared before the girl could ask her any questions. When the girl awoke the scarf was no longer under her pillow, but clutched in her hand. She unfurled it and read the message written on it, smiled, and headed to the market to find the weaver.

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