Red Tent in the Temple and Lammas Celebration
Recently, I was honored by a visit from my dear friend (and also contributor of DiversiTree), Denise DirtyMother. Gathering on Friday, women (and men) arrived. Our intent? To raise the Divine Feminine energy to honor and embrace the Divine Masculine as we celebrated Lammas, a traditionally male focused holiday. In the Red Tent? (scratching head…yes).
As we came to create this weekend, the only possible weekend in that month to gather, I wanted to do something to acknowledge one of my favorite holidays. The time of the year when we give thanks for the harvest, the first harvest; the harvest of the wheat and the grain and the death of John Barleycorn. It is a time of the year when we acknowledge the death of the Bright Lord (the longer days) and the coming of the darker times (when the days get shorter and the nights, longer).
So we gathered the women. We talked of the Divine Dark Mother. We called her in by many names. The creator. The destroyer. The rebuilder. We beckoned the energy source that draws us deep within ourselves and encourages us to release to join us, to bare witness as we lay our hearts open. We gathering in a safe space and talked of our hopes and dreams, our pain and our shame. We connected on health, sexuality, parenting, magic, and energy and as we did, we had a weaver.
Our beloved Sister, the weaver, wove her yoni dream catcher as we spoke our intents, as we introduced ourselves to each other and the space. All day long, she wove our essences and then asked us to participate by beading the strands she left free. “Bead two strands,” she instructed,” one for your sisters and one for you.” And we did. The yoni weaving a magic of it’s own in the temple space now.
Another beloved Sister bound our bellies. Showing us how to support ourselves after giving birth or when we needed to reclaim some solar plexus power. When we needed to feel our belly strength. The unwinding as magically powerful in its release as the binding in creating the energy.
And we talked of sex-positive interactions, of how to keep ourselves safe physically and emotionally, of how to recognize signs and symptoms of dis-ease on physical and emotional levels and we rejoiced…and cried…and rejoiced some more. We celebrated our dynamics. We created, not individual women, but a divine collective of feminine power…
…then we invited the men in and asked them to do what is difficult for all of us.
As they entered, they were blessed by a line of women waiting to honor their sacrifice. We did not come as the women who knew these men, but rather an energetic whole ready to acknowledge the Divine Masculine. The men were not the men of our community, only the brave representatives ready to experience vulnerability and recognizing that it takes courage to do so. It takes bravery and strength to enter into union wide open, to receive, to trust.
So we centered them and surrounded them, then laid them down on a bed of softness while we embraced their crowns. We beckoned them with our sounds and the voice of the Dirty Mother to come hither into the Well, to meet the Divine Feminine in all her aspects, a journey we could only support, not participate in. We brushed them with wheat and drummed their passage into the Underworld and smiled once they emerged. A million hands, it felt like to them, though they were barely touched.
Then we all traveled to the fire, a steady beat guiding us yonder, to throw our wheat in. We released our shame, our fear, expectations, heartaches and we embraced possibility knowing we created a space where the Divine Feminine and the Divine Masculine, both together and separate, both within us and without….could come together, no matter our gender, to create.