Okay, this blog writing thing is very intimidating.  I’m used to holding my tongue and sitting on my hands.  I’m out of practice at speaking my mind.  I’m timid, but I’m also intimidated.

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You bloggers out there are really good at expressing yourselves.  Thanks for being there. I’ve been scouring your words for comfort. You’ve carried me through some tough soul searching months.  I hope you know that you’re helping people like me transition from the firm, solid, safe ground of supporting the brethren to the shifting sands where the waves crash all around changing the surface on which I walk.

beach-sandThe wise man builds his house upon a rock and the rains come down and his house stands firm.  I don’t know where women are supposed to build their houses.  Maybe they’re not supposed to have houses without a man.  I don’t want to live like that any more.  I don’t want to be embarrassed about or ashamed of my womanhood any more.  I want to be loved and appreciated for being me, a woman, with or without a man, where my womanhood is as privileged as his manhood.

I want to walk away from the large and spacious, spired houses they built on the rocks.  I want to venture temple-newportout onto the beach and feel the sand between my toes and thank the Goddess whose hand I see all around me.  I want to recognize her in the cool water that washes my world worn feet and soothes my aching soul.  I want to find the beauty in the crashing waves and listen for her voice.  I want to feel her power in the wind and pounding rain.  I want to be renewed when the sun comes out and the light opens me up searching for further light and knowledge, spreading my arms, longing to fly to where she is.

Where are you Mother? Are you there?