Recently, Kari assisted me in a ritual to say goodbye to my “motherhood” self, my fertility, my procreation years. It was intense, and I feel relieved for having had a sacred space carved out for me, someone to weep with me, and assist me in this very difficult goodbye. We sobbed together as we performed the ritual, as I spoke words, as I burned the names I had chosen for babies I never bore, as I offered what is left of my fertility to another woman we know who would like to conceive, as we sung over the ale horn, and poured the remains and the ashes and herbs into the Vé in her backyard as the rain came gently down to cleanse me of this sorrow. I am not sure I want to detail the whole ritual…I mean, I want to, because this is my blog of experiences and memories. But there is this other part that wants it to remain close to my heart, and not be written out in full. During Winter Solstice, I was prodded by my Unseen teachers to “share more of yourself, without sharing too much of yourself.” I’m not quite sure how to manage that, so I’ve become more careful with what I am saying. Writing is different though, especially when shared through more poetic style writing. Maybe I will come back to this post at some point. I’ll have many weeks of recovery from surgery, and I expect I will open my writing life up more at that point.
Upon returning from vacation, I began my final blood on the plane home. I was able to save the bloody water from my cloth pads and offer it to the two maples that live right out front of our balcony and that I greet in the mornings. Two trees that I asked for assistance in helping grow a new kind of life for me, a new beginning that I can see bloom through their leaves. After having performed this rite, and pouring my final blood, the most magical and mystical blood of all, the blood that flows from no wound, the blood of creation, the power of the mothers of all time, I feel I am ready to be birthed into a new self. Another phase of life is beginning.