It’s the full moon and I’m thinking about blood.
I’m a red moon woman and have been for years, my gestating in service to women, my shedding in service to the tribe. The word “ritual” comes from the Sanskrit word “rtu” meaning menstrual blood. The original ritual, everything else either imitating or honouring.
Everywhere I look I see co-opting and synthesising, Abrahamic religions and paganisms alike. The animals sacrificed in the temple because women were no longer allowed to sit and give back to the earth free of fear and pain. The jealous wives and warrior daughter goddesses replacing the Mother of All. The sacred heart of Jesus, pulsing like a womb full of blood. The communion chalice that lets you taste the blood of god… women know where the blood of god really comes from.
Speaking of tasting the blood of god…
I’m a Welsh woman who has studied with druids and I see the tale of Ceridwen for what it truly is. The cauldron of the dark mother, a womb of magic and enlightenment. She’s brewing the awen, inspiration, Holy Spirit, Shekinah for her son, to take him from a grotesque form of consciousness to one of Love.
The other boy, Gwydion, tastes but a drop of her menstruation, and his initiation begins. She gives life, and she consumes life. He cannot outrun Her, can only surrender and allow himself to be birthed again from her Cosmic Womb.
Now he is the greatest bard who ever lived.
Return return return return.
