September 10th, 2008 ~ Delphi, Greece

I made it.  Through weeks of preparation and days of travel.  Through a lingering desire to not leave home at all.  Through a burning in my heart that begged me to let go…of all that I could, and could not.  Through missed ferries, missed flights, missed meals, and missed friends.  Through not being able to keep my head up on endless-feeling flights and then…finally…opening blurry eyes to see the moon hanging over my beautiful Delphi.  Waiting for me, as it always has, and as my home always will when I pick up, again and again, to open my arms and my heart to the world once more.  The moon hung low and sweet as we were driven around the last mountain curves and by the sacred spring in the dark, just exactly as it did when my mother, sister and I first arrived here eleven years ago.  Again, the calling here was strong enough to uproot me, and make me cross oceans to answer it.

Because what I really made it through to come back here this way is about 1,700 years.  It has been that long since the last Oracle here spoke her final words…  “Tell the king the fair-wrought house has fallen.  No shelter has Apollo, nor sacred laurel leaf.  The voices now are silent.  The spring is stilled.”

That it would be 1,700 years before an Oracle returned to speak her truth aloud in that same place is incredible.  That it is happening now is incredible.  I know many Oracles have returned and re-visited this place, whether they were conscious of it or not…but to come here to teach…to stand at the rock of the Sibyl and the spring of Gaia…and to bring a group of Oracles to do the same.  This is history of the most profound kind.  The kind that gets written in the book of the Goddess forever.

I used to think it was grandiose to speak in this way.  To think that the work of one or a small group could have this kind of cosmic proportion…but now I know it is the only thing that does.  We are it.  We are the new deities and the living Oracles.  We just need to be reminded of what we are and can do.  And as long as I live this will be my path…to help remind the other Oracles.  The other “Ones who Remember”…so that they can spread the great remembering across the earth.  It is time.  And I am going to stand in Delphi as a living Oracle to prove it.

Tell the king the fair-wrought house has been restored.  There is shelter for both Gaia and Apollo, and the Oracles will dance in sacred laurel leaves.  The voices are no longer silenced.  The spring is full.

Love, Jennifer

Tuesday, August 26th, 2008

It’s always around this time of year that it comes…that old familiar feeling of letting go…of change. It’s as if I feel what the tree feels, as she considers, for the first time again, surrendering her blossoms, her fruits, and finally, her leaves. Until she stands naked…ready. And she knows, in her wooden bones, that no new life can come until she does.

It is still bright as I feel it. There are still a few sweet pea blossoms blushing purple against the dry grass. The sun still gives herself to me shamelessly. But we both know. We both know change is coming, and that neither of us will ever be the same.

We both know the wind has blown in, the one that carries off the wild geese…and me. And I look down at my fingers, wrapped so tightly around summer and my life in this moment without my even realizing it until now…and ever so slowly, my muscles begin to release. And that is when the water begins to pour into and through them. The washing can happen now. Only standing naked can I find the new, clean wholeness and light that are waiting for me. If I will just let go…

And my feet are still bare in the grass. And my heart is still aching from the last opening, contemplating how it could possibly expand one more time…holding its breath…before the exhale finally comes and it gives again.

And sometimes, right in the center of the change, all that can breathe solace and courage and insight into the choppy seas and shifting winds is a reprieve. A stolen moment in time. A day, alone to find your place of reference again. A quiet night by candlelight to write your story and realize it is just that, and honor it…a soft setting in which you can hear your own voice again…away from the crashing waves.

No one can tell you the things your heart will tell you, if you make the space to hear it speak again. The heart will wait for that time. It will wait until you have been quiet, dipping your feet in the pool of your own energy again, before it speaks. It wants to make sure you will hear it clearly…without interference, or with as little as possible. It is the entire reason for “a room of one’s own,” both in reality and energetically speaking. It is a space where you can hear your own song again…and be restored.

Then you can re-enter the winds of change with renewed courage and trust…knowingness, and patience. You can let your leaves fall, because you know you made them…and you will make many, many more. You can be born again, and again…and again.

You can sit by the window of your heart, with a cup of coffee, and a blank page, and a pen…and predict miracles.

Love, Jennifer