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Becoming a Herbalist

by Susun S. Weed


www.susunweed.com

 

~ Part Eight ~

 

With the taxes paid, and the tax burden reduced, it seemed that my dream of women's land in the country had finally come true. It had taken a lot of hard work to make it happen, but it wasn't time rest and congratulate myself. This was just the beginning. The hardest work was in front of me. Now I had to care for my dream, to tend it faithfully, to see to it that it grew and prospered.

The land I had bought was rocky and wild, unfit for cultivation and practically impossible to fence. But I began gardens, certain that the devas (and the compost pile) would reward me with fertility (or at least some weeds). The house I had bought was small, with only a few small rooms and a tiny kitchen. But my students willingly accepted the outdoors as their classroom, and were good-natured about crowding together indoors when storms chilled, rains drenched, or winds blew. Day by day, and season by season, I worked so my dream could thrive.

My dream of creating a place where women could feel safe, could be healed, could be reunited with their power was growing into reality. And as it grew I was challenged to clarify the dream. The more I worked, the more I taught, the more I talked with other women, the clearer it became. I began to be more specific about exactly what I wanted to do, what I wanted to offer, and what I wanted to nurture. I saw that I did not enjoy taking care of women's problems the way I enjoyed teaching them. I realized that I didn't want to teach health to the exclusion of spirituality, nor did I want to do ceremony and neglect teaching about health. I was convinced that health and spirituality were deeply connected, and I wanted to awaken other women to that connection.

This proved to be harder than I imagined. Women who were interested in women's spirituality -- including pagans, witches, goddess lovers, and political dykes -- were generally uninterested in health. (At one Goddess conference we were served donuts and coffee for breakfast!) And those who were interested in women's health -- such as self-help teachers, midwives, herbalists, nurses, and MDs -- were threatened by any mention of spirituality. I knew that spirituality interpenetrated every aspect of health and that health increased the power of the spirit. I saw these issues as sisters who had been torn apart, and I focused all my energies on relinking them in women's minds.

With my dream of a space for my work manifested, I now restated my goal, reshaped my dream. My work now was to reweave the healing cloak of the Ancients. Not only at my home teaching space, but also at the Woodstock Women's Center (which I co-founded), and at Sojourner's, the Hudson River Valley's only women-centered gathering space for over two decades (which I also co-founded), I focused on weaving woman spirit and woman health together into a sturdy cloth.

Over the years, this dream led me to some amazing and fascinating women:

Connie Panzarino, activist for the differently-abled, cooked incredible meals although unable to lift a finger.

Zsusanna Budapest, hereditary witch, initiated me during her whirlwind tour of the United States and found herself woven into my web.

Vicki Noble (Motherpeace Tarot), initially in my life as the mother of my daughter's best friend, became my friend as we danced in synchrony across a continent crafting women's tarot decks and reclaiming our Goddess heritage.

Merlin Stone (When God Was a Woman), herstorian/historian and seer, sparked the presence of the most ancient Goddesses at the Wise Woman Center, setting in place a reverberation that allowed me to bring our Goddess loving past into the present.

Brooke Medicine Eagle (White Buffalo Calf Woman Comes Singing), sister of earth wisdom, turned me toward the Moon Lodge and blessed the land with her songs, stories and presence.

Dhayni Ywahoo, straddler of two worlds -- Buddhist and Native American -- touched us with her grace and reaffirmed that women are the Earth and that we are nourished physically and spirituality when we identify with Her and see every woman as a living representation of Her.

Amy Sophia Marashinsky (The Goddess Oracle) taught us to drum from our wombs, connecting health and spirit with rhythm and vibration.

Rachel Pollack (Shining Woman Tarot), Mary Greer (Women of the Golden Dawn) and Carol Hertzer (AstroTarot) helped us reclaim our symbolism and the ancient healing language of the Goddess.

But all these women were to be in my future. Their bright promise, though I neither saw nor felt it at the time, nonetheless sustained me through the darkest days of my life. Barely two years from the time I bought the land, I found myself on a personal healing journey which culminated in yet more loss. Begun in the pain that love sometimes generates, my healing journey caused me to change my life in ways that hindsight sees were for the best, but that seemed beyond endurance when they occurred.

Healing journeys can lead to wholeness; mine did. And my wholeness demanded that I claim my life as my own, to be lived by me and named by me and done by me. Although I had left my husband, although I claimed that I had left behind the role of wife, nonetheless, like so many women, I had allowed myself to live for and through those that I loved. Being with women didn't change my patterns, it just changed who I acted them out with.

Now I chose to change. And my land partners, who were my lovers, my sisters, my soulmates, my friends, the women I called my family, left me and slandered me and tried to ruin me and did their best to shatter all the dreams we had dreamed together. This time of betrayal unwinds across the face of my story for four years. More than once I was tempted to throw away my power and give in to despair.

But the Goddess wrapped her arms around me and kept my feet steady on Her way. She rocked me to sleep through endless nights of tears, and woke me to rainbows when I thought never to smile again. Always Her green blessings comforted me, always her guidance led me on. I thought my dreams were dashed, were mirrors broken into a millions pieces, never to be mended. How wrong I was. For the heart cannot be broken. And the pain I felt was really the pain of opening to the abundance of the chaotic Universe.

PART NINE

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copyright: susun weed

September 27, 2012