Ostara

Ostara is the time of marriage between the dark and the light. The old has died and decomposed, leaving the earth once again moist and fertile. The return of the sun warms the seeds deep within the womb of the earth, causing them to stir and swell, pushing up against the walls that contain its lifeforce.  Anchored into the energy and nourishment of mama earth, the lifeforce is expelled from its restrictive casing into the dark unknown, until it bursts forth into the light. A new being, with new space to grow.


As human beings we also go through cycles of death and rebirth. Purging the old, allowing room for the new to be planted and grow. Our self-realizations, our creative projects, our relationships. Until we once again become, too large for our soul space, cracking the cage, and sending us tumbling into the void of the unknown.  Just as we are grown in the belly and expelled from the bodies of our mothers.

In February of 2017 I allowed the relationship I held with my mother to die. Purging what no longer served me, left me with space for the new. By March I was already feeling the pangs of the new bigger self, stretching and squirming in incubation. In this great cycle of death and rebirth, I find myself again feeling the discomfort of new growth.


Ostara is the time to take our inner realization and push them into outer manifestation. Only in emptiness can we allow our space to impregnated with our next bigger self. Our next creative project. Our level of abundance. What have you released? What do you have in gestation this Ostara?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Nothingness

I grew up with a family that had secrets. Substance abuse, domestic violence, verbal, physical, and sexual abuse are the kind of secrets that cultivate deep shame and embarrassment. While most of my peers, were trying to figure out their core identity, what they enjoyed what they didn’t. I spent all of my energy as an adolescent trying to keep quiet. Trying to mask the reality that was sitting just beneath the surface. Trying to keep the family shame from spilling out of me into the light for all to see. As much as I wanted the torment to stop, my need to survive strangled out my need to be heard. The way a strangler fig hushes its host tree, curling and closing in around it. Competing for resources, until there is no light left to reach for. Leaving nothing but an empty shell, a reminiscent cavity of where the tree once occupied. With no voice and no sense of identity, I used the mechanisms of appeasement and camouflage to withstand the elements of life. When I found myself in a fos
Read more

Liberation

Growing up in a home with mentally ill parents, where substance abuse, emotional abuse, and domestic abuse were present, you learn that the best way to stay out of the line of fire is to blend into the background. To meld with the habitat around you like a moth, matching it's stony, cold, unforgiving environment. Watching and waiting for the right time to move about, careful not to get snatched up in a frenzy. My Mother suffering from depression, was asleep every night by 6 or 7. The house was kept dark, in the isolation of our home my brother, sister and I, were left to our own devices. To provide ourselves with comfort and entertainment, expected to put ourselves to bed by 9 O'clock every night. Lacking maternal connection, in these dark evenings, with the TV playing old re-runs of the Brady Bunch and I Dream of Genie in the background, I felt loneliness. As an adult in the midst of a dark house, I still feel loneliness creep over me, like the fiery red blooms of Bougainv
Read more