This morning the Goddess woke up, took a nice leisurely bath, and went outside onto her front porch to read the Sunday paper. Her house is hidden away in the woods on the other side of our dreams. It is a beautiful cottage, rustic in nature that seems to have grown from the woods around rather than have been built by hand. The very walls seem to breathe and have roots and it is those roots that allow the Goddess to interconnect with the world which we call reality.
As she sat drinking her tea and breathing in the air around and the wind seemed to caress her skin, she was at peace. Until she started to read… Then slowly tears fell down her cheeks to land on the newsprint. How, she wonders, can people cause so much pain and display so much anger in such violent ways? I gave to the world everything they needed to live, to love, and to be happy. But, they had to pervert it, they had to destroy it, it wasn’t good enough for them. So now the world is crying out and shrieking in anger. Trying to find its way back to the natural pattern of life. But, it cannot for when the humans started breaking the molecular pattern, when they started to play as gods they started the slow destruction of the natural order and patterns of things. And once the bond has been broken it can never be re-forged.
She turns the page and reads about people who will kill themselves and take out hundreds of others, just to prove they are right. How do you reason with the unreasonable? She wonders aloud. She turns another page and reads about a son killing his parents just because they wouldn’t give him what he thought was his “goddess” given right, the right to a toy. When did life become less than a toy she wonders?
As the tears continued to drop silently from her eyes, she looks up to the peace of her forest and wonders why she should even care about those people when they do not know how to care for themselves. She ponders what she should do as the “mother” of the earth and whether or not her caretaking should include the humans who are so bent on destruction or if she should just let the earth reclaim itself. As she closes the paper and it disappears so do her tears. For the cares of the world are gone as easy as wiping the paper away from her memory. She finishes her tea and slowly starts to walk into the forest murmuring words of love and wisdom to her trees. She has given the world all she could and now it is up to it to find its own way and so she walks away and the memories of our hate and ugliness no longer touch her.
