Death of the Maiden: Transitioning from Maiden, to Priestess-Mother-Wife
Beloveds,
There has been space since my last post where transformation, archetype shifts and life-changes have rocked my core. Most I speak to have undergone or are undergoing transformation in their lives as our consciousness continue to climb the ladder of ascension and the old world and old ways continue to fall away.
Both full moon and new moons in June and July were met with eclipses symbolizing a time of climactic fulcrums, new beginnings, transformation and renovation. My own journey lead to the marriage to my Beloved of four years on June 26th. During the transition before marriage, the Priestess I previously apprenticed with and four Goddesses Sisters escorted me through the gateway of transformation with the powerful ceremony - Death of the Maiden. A ritual unlike any I have ever experienced, I am reminded of ancient times where group rites of passage for both men and women were held in sacred community rituals and not ushered through bars in drunken stupors like many are today.
I chose a black dress for the occasion - symbolizing this death transition from Maiden to Priestess Mother Wife. My Goddess sisters, draped in flaming colored sarongs, escorted me to a sacred grotto in the back hills of Vermont where streams converged into pools and fairies and nymphs danced freely amidst us celebrating our coming. I waded into the excruciatingly cold water and called the maiden to me, feeling all she was, all the days she served me, her flirtation, her playfulness, her eternal youth - We embraced each other singing a soft swan song as she stroked my cheek and said our final good-byes. My Priestess sisters encircled me, walking me to the waters edge and veiled in black, I began my descent. I sucked in air, hit by the cold water stream and descended into the frigid underworld as the black dress billowed around my waist. In a final breath, I submerged myself completely - deep silence in the freezing underwater and in the gateway of transition - She left me. The black dress rose up over my head and fell from my body to the bottom of the grotto's swimming hole, and I watched her go, this delightful archetype and season of woman that is part of every woman's life. I paused for a second/an eternity in the magic of the in-between - and then crashed through the surface - gasping for air - new life re-born of the mother's womb - this archetype awakening in me - naked, powerful, I rose from the waters - reborn.
