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What Trees Dream Ofby Danusha Laméris
This one thinks, let me be the slender bow
of the violin. Another, the body of the instrument,
burnished, the color of amber.
One imagines life as a narrow boat
crossing water,
a light mist of salt on the prow.
And still another &emdash; planed down to planks,
then hammered into shelter
toices vibrating through the rafters.
We do not notice their pleasure,
the slight hum of the banister
beneath our palms,
The satisfaction of the desk
as we tap our pens, impatiently,
upon its weathered surface.
They have ferried us
across rough seas
to lands that smelled of cinnamon
housed our senators,
who pace the creaky floors, debating,
carried arrowheads to pierce our enemies.
We have boiled their pulp, pressed it
into thin, white sheets of paper
on which we describe all of the above in great detail.
And when we die
they hold our empty forms
in bare cedar
until the moment &emdash; and how they long for this,
when we meet again in the blackened soil
and they take us back
in their embrace, carry us
up the length of their bodies
into the glittery, trembling movement of the leaves.
You can find this poem in The Moons of August.
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Last night I attended a women’s circle for the very first time. It was led by Molly Remer, author of Walking With Persephone, (recommended for mid-life women), as well as several books of poetry and prayers, and co-owner of Brigid’s Grove. Molly leads a goddess-centered life and her books, journals, products, and online offerings reflect this.
Take a deep breath. Inhale deep, exhale long and slowwww. You are not in danger of being eaten by a bear. Because if you’re part of a religion with only male god/gods, the word “goddess” can sound very upsetting and threatening to your belief system. My roots are in Christianity so I know a lot about male-centric religion and the fear associated with thinking outside those parameters.
What I’ve been learning over the past several years is that much of the world worshipped either female only or female and male deities for much of human history. The church came crashing in and tried to stamp out spirituality that was connected to females or the earth. Celebrations and feast days were stolen and replace with Christian ones with Christian saints to celebrate and pray to.
Let me be clear that I still love Christ and love everything I’ve learned so far about him. I still love the story of his miraculous and humble birth, his love for the poor, sick, weak, and “sinful”, his way of speaking out against hypocrisy and the burden of religious expectation. His compassion. His love for others. Even though I’m not in a church anymore, I still listen to lovely choral music or even worship songs and sing them sometimes. I still read the Psalms and other parts of the Bible that uplift and encourage.
But I’m curious, too, about the myths and stories of goddesses from the past, and, in particular, Celtic spirituality (sans human sacrifice, of course.) The old ways. Even Jeremiah 6:16 says, “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.”
That’s what I’m doing. I’m standing at the crossroads, searching, asking for the ancient paths. Asking where the good way is. Not the white American evangelical or charismatic Christian versions of the good way. Something much further back in time than that. More wild than that. What’s at the edges, not the mainstream. Ok, enough of defending my why.
I went to Molly’s circle and was welcomed in immediately. It was a sweet, and dare I say, sacred space. No one was praying to anyone or doing demon worship or muttering scary words. Nothing made me feel on alert, afraid, constricted, or freaked out. It was just a group of women reading some poetry, discussing what mystery meant to them, listening to a song, reading a little more poetry, journaling, a little more discussion, and closing (on time) with a blessing (again, with no weird words). Everyone was kind, respectful, and listened more than they spoke. This was the first time I’ve ever felt comfortable sharing in an online group. And I was really glad I decided to go.
So that was my experience at a women’s circle last night. I plan to attend next month as well. I’d love to hear if any of you have ever been to women’s circles outside of a church setting and what it’s been like for you.
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I loved this novel! Mia lives in a commune in rural Massachussetts and longs to leave. She’s strong, rebellious, and books are her secret passion. I really enjoyed how she was strong enough to leave everything she knew and ask for help to get to safety.
Of all the books Mia read on the sly while at the commune (outside books were prohibited), The Scarlet Letter was her favorite. She saw a similarity between how her mother was treated and how Hester Prynne, heroine of the Scarlet Letter, was treated. Or mistreated. Mia feels a strong connection to Nathaniel Hawthorne and dreams of somehow being able to meet him.
Will Mia be able to heal from the trauma inflicted at the commune? Will her love be enough to travel through time? Will she be able to accept and experience the friendship and love that is being offered to her in the here and now?
This novel also feature strong librarians and lots about libraries and books. And if that wasn’t fantastic enough, there is a real sense of seasons passing, of the flowers, herbs, fruits, vegetables, trees, and the rural New England landscape. That was a constant throughout that kept the idea of time travel rooted in the place. I highly recommend this novel. Thanks to Net Galley for the advanced reader’s copy in exchange for an honest review!
Life of Kim 