Barefoot Through The Snow

Maine is as northeastern as you can be and still be in the United States. I chose Maine because it is as close to heaven as hell gets in my opinion. Its still wild and beautiful as am I even though we've both been badly abused these past several decades. Maine is so much older than this old crone's body but the spirit that lives within me is so much older than Maine. My blood remembers both sides of the Atlantic ocean and crossing it above and below. I was burned for a witch somewhere along the darkest corridors of my time. I was a medicine woman then and other times. I've been pagan and Indian but always SHE. I remember the earth beneath my bare feet as they followed game trails through woods and fields beside the rivers where my people always settled. Always, others would come with their strange ways and beliefs. We tolerated them in the beginning, but we quickly realized that they were not as we chose to be. The more we shared, the more they wanted as though they were empty vessels that couldn't hold content, as though they could never be filled to satisfaction. It was a sickness among them that made them pale and so weak that they needed to use other people to do their heavy or domestic labor. We taught our children to stay away from strange people who offered strange gifts to entice them away from the safety of their homes. These men had no respect for themselves nor for their brothers. One summer so long ago that the memory is scarcely more than a nightmare, I was gathering roots and herbs along the woodlands when I heard loud knocking echoing across our valley. Before the fall, the walnut grove across that valley disappeared into bare patches so large that they could be seen from miles away. I decided to investigate more closely when I gathered nuts for our winter stores if any of the trees still stood. I left before daybreak crossing the river at an area called 'the washing place' where it narrowed and slowed. The sun was midsky when I reached an alarming sight. A stone hearth and timbers were being assembled for a rather large cottage. Two smaller buildings already contained livestock and a generous garden was nearly ready to harvest. The sound of a woodsman's ax, close by quickly made me abandon my mission. I had heard wild stories of these men and what they did to lone women found bathing in the shallow pools beneath the waterfall. Soon smoke could be seen rising from that stone chimney. Thereafter, I vowed to stay away from that side of the valley except that it was where I always found the best mushrooms and my only source for mandrake roots. It was several seasons after, when my only other sources had also been compromised that I ventured the journey again. I stayed as far away from the clearing as I could but I could see and hear that the woods were also changed. I immediately regretted breaking my selfmade vow. A horse and rider appeared through the trees with a gutted deer. I heard a low husky voice speaking unfamiliar words. I began to run but his horse quickly caught up to me. Its rider slid off and grabbed me around my shoulders. I tried to cry out but he suddenly clamped his hand over my mouth. A woman emerged from the cottage headed for the garden. I was terrified but he held me still and quiet. The woman was dressed in a long dark dress that covered everything except her face and hands; even her hair was tucked up under a white cap that matched the bib apron tied at her waist but it was still obvious that she was in the late stages of pregnancy. She went along the lower rows with a handled basket filling it with an assortment of produce until it was full. It was only moments then she returned to the house. The man wasted no time throwing me to the ground and tearing my peasant dress away from my naked breasts, They were firm and erect in the chill of gathering storm clouds. I was raped so abruptly and brutally that his sudden ejaculation and the blood of my virginity ran down my legs and mingled with the icy rain of a sudden violent thunder storm that sent the horse racing toward the barn riderless. The man gathered his britches as quickly as he could and ran after it without another glance in my direction. I had known since I was a child that weather patterns followed my moods. I loved to dance in the rain and snow.It wasn't until I became a young woman that the more intense storms became common in my vicinity. Village mothers warned their sons to behave themselves around that medicine girl because she was in training and would likely never marry. Besides, she wasn't Christian! When my grandmother who had raised me died, it was peacefully. She had raised me with the wisdom of the animals as her grandmother before her had done and with a well developed understanding of which plants could heal and which could kill and how to survive with nothing more than my medicine bag, my skinning knife and a deep respect for every lesson. Nature is as harsh and gentle as any mother must be. Death waited in the most beautiful hearts; a flower, fish or tiny lizard could kill you more quickly than any dragon. I did not fear death since it was more natural than the cruelties of men. A dragon's breath would have consumed me more compassionately than the slow torture of the stake. They called me a witch and praised their God as they put me through Hell. Love? What is love? I want to understand this concept that is so eternal that great books are written about it and men shout it from every pulpit ever built. Is it not the tender way that a mother licks her newly born or shelters them beneath her wings in a forest fire? Must it be shouted to be felt? What does it feel like when it dies and how can it if it is eternal? I can not learn of love from those who practice it in confusion of understanding. I must decide for myself what to believe from my own experiences. I have lived many lives but I have no memory of choosing to be HE. He is the object of my own desire and fulfillment. It has always been so. Without HIM, I am incomplete and can not continue my purpose. My purpose is to nurture life so that it wants to continue. With each awareness comes greater wisdom and acceptance. It is the freedom that we value that is also the trap which we set for ourselves when we deprive any of it. The moment that we take it away from others, we lose it for ourselves. We exist in an endless quest to understand our own nature while never allowing that which is natural to exist without restraint thus creating chaos and a constant need to restore balance. Out of one, many are possible. All must be allowed. That which we struggle against is ourselves. There is no struggle in acceptance. It is the the last month of thirteenth year of the second millennium. I have been in this body for better than sixty three years. It is difficult to maintain and has become more of a trap than I can appreciate but I function in it. I wish that I could have appreciated it more and taken better care when it was new. Much of what ails it is my own doing but a lot is not. It serves as a social tool as well. What would happen if...seems to be a social question best played on others. Experimentation is cruel when you're using another's body. Longing for simplicity fills my dreams with a world of great beauty and wonder. In my dreams, I am sometimes, alone but never for too long. The children awaken or arrive and I am sometimes, among them. I'm the little girl telling stories full of imaginary beings and circumstances because I am a creator of such things. I always am. I'm so full of tears that they leak into planets full of life that is ever changing, always evolving. I am life giving because that is my choice. I am mother of GOD. Last winter, there were footprints beneath my window in the freshly fallen snow. Sometimes, I walk barefoot in the snow and the birdfeeder needed filling. My feet were too swollen and hot to dress so I simply iced them more naturally for a few minutes by taking advantage of nature's bounty. My father's people were the original Americans who greeted the newly arrived ships that had come from across the mighty Atlantic when this beautiful land still had clear rivers and plenty of fish and game. Somewhere, along his lines, I was a medicine woman among my people and walked barefoot so that I could remain in touch with my earth mother.