Lynda Terry is a meditation teacher, spiritual activist and the author of The 11 Intentions: Invoking the Sacred Feminine as a Pathway to Inner Peace
For weeks now, as the days have grown cooler and shorter, as the brilliance of fall foliage has slowly dulled and dropped, leaf by leaf, to earth’s surface, I have felt Her drawing closer. She pulls me inward, into my self, into Her, through a longing for silence … darkness … sleep … the swaddled warmth of womb space … the liminal space of not knowing … of waiting …
Why is it that I feel the closest to the Divine Feminine at this time of year? Is it because it was this time of year, 21 years ago, that I first began a practice of daily meditation that transformed my physical and emotional health? Or because, at this time of year 16 years ago, she called me to Her in the form of a spiritual teacher whose love and grace awakened and transformed my heart? Or because, nine years ago at this time, She whispered into my ear, the details of a vision for women gathering that transformed my service in the world? Or that five years ago at this time, She showed me what dying and rebirthing feels like, transforming my understanding of miracles? Or is it because last year, at this time, She called me to a sacred earth site, where I laid my hands upon Her primal memories, activating an ancient promise of collective healing that transformed my understanding of suffering?
What is it that makes me the most receptive and surrendered to the Divine Feminine in these waning days of the Light, in this season of dying as prelude to new Life? I have given birth to new life in the last days of autumn, and my body has rejected new life in early winter – twice. My mother conceived me at this time of year, and it was on the winter solstice five years ago, that I learned she was dying. How is it that I’ve not noticed, until today, this pattern She has been weaving with me? And what might be the significance of having noticed it, finally, today … this year? What is the next thread to be woven into this unique design that is my woman’s journey?
I don’t have answers to these questions yet – only the inner prompting to slow down … to be ready for their subtle stirrings. So, I meditate before dawn to haunting Divine Mother Sanskrit chants … slip out into frost-filled air to watch the lushly sensuous full moon pause behind starkly barren trees … stay alone in my room for hours, holding sacred circles of One … and nightly, I fall into Her dreamtime arms, entranced by the cadence She sets forth in my remarkably resilient heart.