Sitting at the Well of Origin I hear the Water whispering Names, Names of Dreams about to be born.
Here is the place where Starry Children come down to wrap themselves into a Dream and set out on a Journey on the River of Life.
Here Threads are Spun and magically Woven into Songs and Stories who want to live with us, wherever we go, whever we are.
I hear a Voice, a Clarity, I recognize from a time long ago when She visited me during a night, wanting me as Her Rite of Passage, wanting me as Her Stairway from Heaven onto Earth.
But I would not be the one to open that Door for Her.
Now She is asking me to tell a Story, to tell the Story of Blood Sacrifice.
Voices of Women rise up in the Sky, come down to the Earth again while entering a Circle of Sacred Stones. Some of us are carrying baskets filled with Corn. While walking the Circle round and round, Chanting the Chant, Singing the Song, we generously Offer Corn to this Land, to Mother Earth, to our Ancestors and to the Work to come.
When all is given in Song and Offering we are gathered around an Altar of Stone and each Woman, one by one, will now walk up to the Altar to do the Work. When I’m standing there in the Center of the Circle for a split second I’m panicking. I’m holding a baby in my arms laying her down in front of me. No, I haven’t done that….It simply cannot be that I have ever done this and I definitely won’t do it now.
I take the saw in my hand with discernment and start working. While sawing I turn the Head round and round until a little Lid is left, almost falling off.
I remove the upper part of the Head which makes the sound of a cork leaving a bottle of champaign.
The Heart is opened.
I step back to take my place holding her in my arms, against my heart, Heartbeat to Heartbeat, to beat as one.
When everyone is finished we walk back to the Temple still Chanting the Chant, still Singing the Song.
That weekend The Sacred Gourd will be transformed into a Healing Rattle.
That weekend I will be transformed by Experiencing the Meaning of the Word Sacredness and it is there that I find the Story of Blood Sacrifice.
In that night long ago when I heard her voice, that Clarity, it was then that I realized that I had made a choice based on culture, opinions and beliefs without even asking the Wisdom of my Heart.
The Chatter in my head had been so loud that the Voice of my Heart could not be heard.
Now this Clarity, this Clear voice is Piercing through all the sounds opening my heart and I cannot but Feel.
Ten years later I will hear a story of a young woman having an abortion at will and falling into a depression afterwards.
A Peruvian Shaman told her that we, women of the western world, don’t have a clue about Blood Sacrifice.
He said that when a woman, consciously or not, makes the choice to not have children she is practicing Blood Sacrifice saving her energy needed for carrying, birthing and feeding a child for something different, for something she alone knows it is worth it.
And I wondered what can it be that is so important that its worth a life?
Again ten years later I hear a woman say that, women who have no children or sons only, being the last of the female branch of their lineage, are here on earth for a very special reason and again I wonder, what can it be that is so important that its worth a life?
I was haunted by this thought like a prey hunted by a predator constantly having that feeling I have to come up with something really special to do in and with my life.
Years later I will learn about the True Meaning of Blood Sacrifice.
The word Sacrifice comes from Latin sacrificium = Sacred Action or Action performed by a “Sacer” = Holy Person or, in Sacredness.
True Blood Sacrifice has nothing to do with killing but has everything to do with Blood Offering, Offering Moon Blood practiced by Women in ancient times. They carried the Wisdom that Moon Blood is filled with nourishments enriching the Land, nurturing Mother Earth and this for sure is a Holy Action practiced in Sacredness.
For a long time Mother Earth has done without it but these days more and more Women are tapping in that Ancient Wisdom and start practicing this True Blood Sacrifice again.
Sitting at the Well of Origin Whispering Waters are no longer heard. The Well is shrouded in Mystery.
And I ask: what is so important that its worth a Life?
And from beyond the clouds where the primordial Waters lie a Face is piercing through the Mists, smiling.
And it is the Voice of my Heart I hear now when its softly whispering – when its softly whispering My Name.