Hello and welcome to Stepping into the Wise Woman.
Find a comfortable and quiet space.
You may wish to have a candle,
A bowl of water,
Or a stone nearby.
Allow your body to soften as you begin.
Close your eyes and take a deep breath.
Inhale the cool salt air of the North Sea.
Exhale the warmth of your breath into the land.
With each breath,
Imagine the ground beneath you becoming a damp peat and fertile earth.
You are standing on the ancient shores of Friesland,
Long before stone churches or paved roads,
When the land,
The sea,
And the sky moved as one living rhythm.
You walk toward a grove at the water's edge.
Tall oaks sway in the wind.
The scent of juniper and wood smoke drifts through the air.
Before you,
A small circle has gathered.
A fire burns at its center.
Offerings of amber,
Shells,
And carved wood rest upon a stone.
This is the sacred space of your people.
As you step forward,
Feel the weight of a cloak upon your shoulders.
A spiral brooch fastens it at your chest.
Amber beads brush against your skin,
And in your hand is a carved staff,
Smooth from the touch of many ceremonies.
You are the wise woman,
The voice between the worlds.
Your people look to you with reverence,
Trust,
And awe.
You kneel by the fire.
In a bronze bowl,
You pour milk and honey,
Offering them to the Earth Mother.
The flames crackle,
And the smoke carries your prayer into the night sky.
You lift your staff,
And you begin to chant softly.
Ancient words rise from your heart.
Words older than memory,
Shaped by the tides,
By the winds,
By the voices of your ancestors.
The circle falls silent.
All listen.
Through you,
The gods and the spirits speak.
Close your eyes in the vision of the Seeress.
See symbols moving in the firelight.
Spirals,
Ruins,
Patterns of fate.
Hear the sea as it answers your call.
Waves rising and falling like a great heartbeat.
Feel the presence of the ancestors standing behind you.
Their hands upon your shoulders,
Their wisdom flowing into your voice.
You speak what you see.
Guidance,
Blessing,
Protection of your people.
Your words are carried on the wind,
Woven into the soul of the tribe.
When the vision fades,
You lower your staff.
The fire settles,
Glowing gently.
You breathe deeply,
Grounding yourself once more in body and earth.
You are both yourself,
And the wise woman.
Her strength,
Her connection,
Her voice,
They live within you still.
Take one more breath of the sea air,
And when you are ready,
Return to the present moment,
Carrying her power in your heart.
The wise woman is not lost to time.
She rises in you whenever you call her.
Through your intuition,
Your healing,
Your courage to speak truth,
You are her living echo.
Be well.
