Rhiannon Truth Seeker

The day dawned soft and clear. 

Everyone from the priestesshood, novice to elder, was present for the sunrise ceremony.  Leah, Rita and I left to ready ourselves, while the others broke fast together and began preparations in the grove.  We did not speak much.  Our hearts were too full.  Our shared activities and our glances to one another were far more eloquent than any words we could produce.  This was the day we formally became priestesses, wedding ourselves first and foremost to the Mother and Father.  

To the Goddess, we would pledge our skills to uphold balance and peace in this world, to foster awareness of her gifts and rhythms, her beauty and bounty, and to honor such with integrity and action which would allow her nurturing presence to ever grace our lives.  We would use her life-giving gifts only in service to others and for the greatest good of all.

To God, we would pledge to be beacons of truth, to allow the light of Christ-consciousness to shine through us as undiluted as humanly possible.  Love, trust, and forgiveness would be our tools as we sought to help others awaken to the truth of who we all truly are.  Our swords would never cut through another’s flesh, only through their illusions and forgetfulness.  Our power would rest in our alignment to the will of the Father and Mother and, in our defenselessness, our surrender to truth, our connection to the Oneness.

Unlike many other forms of Father or Mother worship, there were few rules to follow, save those of specific ritual.  Grandmother had told us this was so because following the heart in any given moment, creates more serving behavior than following a list of man-made rules.  We were taught the various ritual steps because, over hundreds of years of intentional use, these gestures and techniques had become imbued with greater power and richer meaning.  We were never to forget, however, that heart-guided intention was always more powerful than technique, so that we should never feel stymied for lack of a known process.  Later today, in the presence of all, we would each speak our individual vow, reflecting the unique ways in which we would carry out our commitments.  Yet before the ceremony could take place, we needed to prepare our bodies and our minds.  We were already fasting.  That had begun the night before.  Now it was time for each of us to go our separate way for a short time and head to a place that held special meaning and offer silent vows that would be known only to us and the Creator.

I knew not where Leah and Rita chose to go.  Naturally, I headed to my mother’s cave.  It was my way of bringing her presence more strongly to the day.  First, I entered and let the memories of many moments spent there wash over me. 

I had first sat there as a frightened, lonely child, early in my journey to womanhood and priestesshood.  Now I sat there, neither frightened nor lonely, but filled with gratitude, trust, and reverence as I took the first steps towards fully claiming and committing to my life purpose.  As I released my mind of all the memories, I heard my inner voice: This is the time and place to express your gratitude to the Mother, for offering you this place, this sanctuary, this connection with your own mother.  It is not the place from which to offer your vows.  For it is a place that now recedes into the past, while your vows move you forward towards a future being created by the perfect blend of destiny and choice.  I knew in that moment that, though I might still visit this site, I would never again enter the cave.  Instead, I would leave it with thanks and blessings to whatever person or creature might next call it home or refuge.  Kissing the remains of my mother’s doll, I placed it back in the corner, perhaps to be discovered someday by another.  After hesitating a moment, I pulled one of the combs out of my hair and placed it in the lap of the doll.  Picking up a sharp stone, I etched on one of the walls: Wherever I Am, If I Am In My Heart, I Am Home.

As I looked around the tiny, dirt-walled cave, it struck me that I had created a sacred place out of a barren pocket of the Mother, simply because I aligned with an energy that my mother had created long before I was born.  I realized that sacred spaces are either born or recognized from within.  Beauty and wealth and even religious significance cannot alone make a space sacred any more than piling furs and jewels on a commoner can make him a nobleman.  Yet, if the commoner holds noble ideas, lack of fur and jewels and outer recognition does not deny him his nobility.  What is sacred to one may not be so to another.  Sacredness resides in the heart, to be honored, ignored or desecrated by its possessor.

Little waves of tightness began flowing out of me, tightness I had not known I even carried.  The island was beautiful and I would miss its beauty and people when I was gone, yet its sacredness would be carried with me.  For the last time, I slithered out of the cave’s opening, aware more than ever that it was a much tighter fit now than the first time I had entered.  Simply a reflection, in the world of form, of the growth you have experienced in your time on the island, my inner voice thoughtfully supplied.

I walked the short distance to the river’s edge.