I had the pleasure today of calling in the Goddesses in Central Park. My feet were cushioned on the slightly damp grass and the sun was shining on my face. It was a magical experience to call in the Goddesses of each direction. I felt the land respond and i ended with a special song for the trees.
My connection with Manhattan has been an evolving one this week. I have been shown the love and sustenance within the earth here which has been overlaid with concrete, busyness and metal. The metal affects the lungs and i have felt more tired than i should have. Reconnecting to the earth through my bare feet has been like a tonic. A badly needed reconnection to the Earth mother. One of the aspects i was not prepared for was a rush of connection and communication from the tribal elders, the spirits of this island. When i first arrived, during my first meditation i experienced a connection from a tribal grandmother who was telling me that her tribe and mother-line were the guardians of this land. They were care takers of the trees, plants and animals who used to be here. She gave me a name for her tribe and a name for Manhattan, but i would like to verify that and get it right before i publish it here out of respect for her, i would like to get it right. It had not occurred to me that there might be an Native American connection in Manhattan. It feels so far from that connection to me but they are still present in the land. This tribal Grandmother showed me a long line of her mothers, daughter and sisters who were present in the land and all the elements here. She showed me that they are present in the blades of grass now and the trees and any animals. But most of the native animals are gone. She expressed sadness and anguish that there were few places for their spirit to connect to and honour. Their love and care for their diminished natural surroundings was very touching. I began to see the green spaces here as even more special and sacred than they were before. They contain the love of the feminine. They are held together with the love of sisters. This means a lot to me. In a concrete jungle, where money and industry has replaced love, each blade of grass counts. It was also important to honour her and her communication with me. I lit a candle and i honoured her service and love to the divine. She showed me that she is in the wind, the leaves, the water in the hudson. This is the magic of the heart. This is the truth of Love in New York. It is supported by a long line of ancestry in the land.