The Goddess of the Holy Rage

by Esther Moser

Last Christmas didn’t really happen. I was in and out of hospital between mid December and beginning February, ending up with an abdominal hysterectomy. Right between Christmas and New Year, and in between two blood transfusions, I had to see my GP for a blood test. And that’s where it all came to a big stir….

It was just a little remark of my GP, but it was what opened the lid to that bubbling feeling within me: ‘ So you’ve landed in some trouble’, he said. Nothing wrong with that sentence, isn’t it? But the Holy Rage took it to pop out of the bag! I wanted to scream, shout, shake him – all in one. No, I had not just landed in some troubles, I had consulted doctors since two years with my problems, caused by cysts and fibroids, but was told it was nothing to worry about. Only when it was too late I could make sense of what was going on and discovered that there would have been possible ways of prevention and early interventions with methods too alternative to be on the doctor’s lists.

But, to be honest – screaming, shouting and shaking the doctor to wake him up was far to much effort: I was so tired and exhausted from the last twelve month of heavy periods, pain and emotional challenges. All I could do was to give him a look. A look designed to kill. The powerful intensity of the moment caught me by surprise – had I not almost forgotten in this time of low energy, emotional turmoil and lack of motivation that I was able for such a straight, intense feeling, after all!

And suddenly she appeared in all her beauty – the Goddess of Holy Rage. I recognized her – she was the one who was with Jeanne D’Arc, centuries ago. She was the one who was with the women who got burnt, abused and ignored.  She was the one who lit the match for the women in the seventies, who burned their bras.

The list of her appearance in every country of the world would be endless. And if I think of it – even in my life I have noticed her a few times, without giving her the attention she may have deserved. But this time was different. I knew it instantly. She was invisible for the doctor, but not unnoticed. And she did not wanted to be unnoticed. Not for him, not for myself.

For a short moment I took the time to admire her, as she stood there in front of me, upright, strong with an unwavering and nonthreatening look into my eyes. Courageous and capable to stand her ground. I could sense the heat of her firey spirit, fueled by all the injustice that ever happened to the women of the world and the passionate calling for a world, where women and men matter in equal ways.

I asked her to come home with me and sit by the fire, as I felt that urge to listen and talk to her.  I know: she was close to me since a long time, but I never really listened to her whispers in my ears, never wanted her to be my mentor. The time has come, now.A beautiful smile lit her face when I asked her to join me. We left the surgery, arm in arm.

Later in the day we sat comfortably, staring into the fire, feeling that sense of ancient connection, that women can have when they sit and talk. Women heal through sharing with each other. If there is a warming fire present, even better.

The Goddess of Holy Rage told me that she was with us, the women of this Earth, since the Beginning of Age, that she was a part of every woman born on Earth. That she was a part of Mother Earth herself. She told me that if we use her power with wisdom, she will keep us warm and will fuel our determination and calling. But if we pretend her to be non-existent her fire may rise like a volcano, uncontrollable, destructive,  overflowing, life-threatening. Or she may leave, go far away, leaving us disconnected from ourselves, with a coldness from the heart towards our own life, our sisters and the earth that we live on. She told me that she is a teacher, tough and gentle in one. That she is a mentor, determined to support and challenge, to sand and chisel. That she is a healer, making us strong, pure and clear.

We sat for hours and she challenged me with questions, allowing many thoughts to be born that I was walking pregnant with since a good while, making me feel comfortable while leaving my comfort zone. Deep into the night, when the Goddess of Holy Rage left my house, she had invited me to join the fireside of the Crones. Come when the time is right’, she said.  ‘You know how to get there and the fire is burning all the time.  There we can talk and be silence freely. From that, deep healing and awareness will come, and will come into action. Trust, we will heal and be healed.’

So she left into the night. And will never be fully gone again.

Blessings and Smiles, Esther Moser

PS A few weeks after the Goddess of Holy Rage left, after surgery, and  plenty of sofa time for recovery, I registered  the domain www.redtent.ie The time has come, and we women get ready to meet at the fire, to share, listen and create, spiced with laughter and tears. May the Goddesses be with us. And may you visit us some day, in the internet or the in person!

 

3 Comments

Filed under "things we don't talk about", international, red tent

3 responses to “The Goddess of the Holy Rage

  1. ladyportia27

    Love it.!!!
    Greetings from Eire, where the fire Of the Bright one burns eternally.

    Like

  2. Pingback: The Goddess of the Holy Rage (re-blogged) « Wiccanwoman – my blog

  3. Well done! I have shared this on my blog.

    Like

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