The Clock Stands Still At The Witching Hour, So Let The Storm Have Its Way With You.
{source}
The crescent March moon was born behind a storm most furious, a storm no one could have predicted.
Not even you, my Wise Woman, felt the static in the air until it was too late.
Now you lie huddled in your fragile shelter, letting the winds whip and whistle around you, shaking your only sanctuary from the storm like it was naught more than a rotten log.
Woman, you are not safe here, but it is not Mother Gaia who means you harm.
How long have you been in here, my love, and what have you been doing? There are to-do lists papering your groaning walls, bills scattered all about, and some remnants of much-needed vices — no judgment.
What a busy girl you have been! Your left brain must be exhausted from so much forecasting. The Quickening Moon was a harsh one, it’s true, and your work nearly broke that back of yours.
I see you now, feminist fireball that you are, heaped like so much charred wood.
You have been dried out by all this logic and proactive planning, and your dehydrated bones are screaming for nourishment. I know, I know, you don’t have time for this.
I should let you claim your little rest now so your body can keep up with your dreams. Were I a more compassionate woman, I would surely let you sleep, but the wind has blown your last candle out, my love, and your clock is frozen.
No, sorry, but I am not going to let you rest, because rest is not what will best feed you.
Woman, the clock stands still at the Witching Hour, and it is time to nourish your deeper self before you forget how to revel in your own sensual magnificence.
Don’t get up on my account, Darling, but, I should tell you, the Hawk Woman has come for you, and She does not take kindly to refusal. Can you hear Her screeching in the storm?
You might mistake Her for a Banshee if you were to miss the befeathered locks and temple-dancer adornments. No, this woman is no Banshee, but She has no warm, maternal arms for you either.
Ah, Woman! The door has blown apart, and your scribblings are flying everywhere! Don’t bother to collect them; there’s no point. The rain is coming in, your walls are falling down, and there the Hawk Woman stands in all her tribal glory.
She remembers what you’ve almost forgotten, my love, and drag you into this storm She will. Surrender to Her; that would be my advice. Look at Her eyes, glowing orange like some beauteous jewels that have no name.
This bare-breasted woman wants to take you from your shelter and into the stormy night, and I say, let her. What have you got to lose? The clock has stopped, and time is an illusion.
Woman, go with this Wild One, and let Her show you the other side of creation.
Yes, you have become so skilled at your envisioning and your goal-setting. So many calendars you have! I don’t know how you keep them straight. But there is something of this painted Priestess in you, my love, and She knows it.
The Hawk Woman does not come for those who cannot see Her, and you see all of Her, from Her muddy toes to Her dreadlocked hair.
Take Her hand, and let Her lead you into the storm where the rain will quench your dried-out joints, juice your too-thick blood, and brighten your graying skin.
That storm out there is an eruption of creative nourishment, the feminine most wild, and it lives in you. That’s right, Witch, I am saying that storm cannot harm you because it is as much a part of you as your womb.
Forget the supposed-to’s and slather some mud on your face. Cancel the appointment, just this once, and pick your delicious poison — paint, write, sing, dance, cook. Be a mother-loving alchemist, for Goddess’ sake!
Let this storm have its way with you.
Let your lunar brain guide you now, my love. It thinks in circles and spirals and flashes of hot-pink ecstasy. This is the only brain the Hawk Woman has, the only one She needs.
Take a bath in this storm and let the lightning find places inside of you screaming for ignition. Open your legs to the crashing thunder, and feel your heart beat in another rhythm.
She wants you to go with Her, now go! This mess will be here when you return. Go into the storm and shake your birthing hips. Let your soft belly roll. Stretch your arms wide. Open your mouth and drink the rainwater.
It is the Witching Hour, and you have a wild sister to midwife you through your fear of letting go, of being seen, of never coming back.
And you will come back, my love. I promise. For now, though, take a deep dive down into your sacral bowl and harvest all the passion you have. Open to this new Storm Moon by being fully and unapologetically present.
You have lived wholly in the future these past few weeks, my darling, and it has dried you out. No more hiding! Let the Hawk Woman show you the delicious embrace of a storm full-blown and well-earned.
She holds Her hand out for you now, dear one, and She is not leaving. Go get your juice back. Your vision will be so much better for it. The Hawk Woman sees better than any of us because She knows how to let go.
She knows how to wield fierce foresight without letting knowledge of the future diminish Her presence. She knows, this Wild One, how to let the storm ravage Her without depleting Her. Go with Her now. No expectations, just go.
Go with Her willingly or She may carry you. The clock stands still at the Witching Hour, and your sultry storm is beckoning you to remember your most wild womanhood.
***
Danielle Dulsky is a multi-passionate entrepreneur, energy-healer, Yoga teacher, multi-media artist, and magickal mentor. She holds the highest designation from Yoga Alliance as an E-RYT500, and is on a mission to inspire women to be fearless creators of their sacred work. She is the founder and creatrix of the Living Mandala Yoga teacher training programs, a Reiki Master in the Usui-Tibetan tradition, and long-time believer in Earth-based traditions. Her work is based on sensing and transforming energetic vibrations, empowering individuals to discover their potential for authentic abundance, using artistic practice intuitively, and holding space for women to unearth their inner goddess through the magick of sisterhood. Danielle leads women circles, witchcraft workshops, a teaching coven, and psychic development intensives in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania where she lives with her partner Ryan, sons Bodhi and Sage, and pet-familiars Jeepster and Raven. She believes that all women alive today are meant to be instrumental in supporting the return of the Divine Feminine. You could contact her via email.
***
{Join us on Facebook, Twitter & Instagram}
Comments
Latest posts by Rebelle Society (see all)
- Cemetery of Tears. - April 20, 2024
- My Identity Journey: What’s in a Name? - April 20, 2024
- Cyprus: A Magic Place That Feels Like Home. - April 20, 2024