Sitting at the Well of Origin, that Pool of Wisdom, I ask: Where to find the Missing Grandmother.
Why is She missing in the world.
Why is She missing in my world.
I wrap myself around this question and listen and wait…..
What I hear is the sound of tinkling Ice, a Song so clear and still.
What I hear is the sound of tinkling Ice turning into the sound of melting Water. And the sound of melting Water is slowly changing into a soft Whispering, a Whispering that seems to come from all directions.
I wrap myself around the Whispers and wait….
I’m standing on a Path, the Woods behind me, Woods I just left after wandering around for years and years. Grandfather Oak stands in front of me and smiles at me.
“Welcome back”, he says.
“Come and sit with me and tell me about your adventures in the Woods”.
I sit down at his Foot leaning my back against his Trunk and a sigh is finding its way out before it allows words to come out.
“I have been wandering around for years and years, sitting at many Campfires of many Peoples. Meeting Grandmothers from different Cultures, from different Colors and different places. I heard a lot, I learned a lot. Stories, Songs and Dances. Ancient Wisdom seen through their Lenses. I learned a lot.
But while leaving the Woods all at the sudden I realized that I have missed one specific Fire, that I have missed one specific Grandmother, a Grandmother of the North, a white one. I didn’t found Her Sacred Fires. Did I miss it or don’t we have a Native Indigenous European Grandmother?”
Silence. “Grandfather, where is the Grandmother of the North, of my indigenous Heritage.”
“I cannot tell you where She is. You must find Her yourself. Rest a bit here and then continue your Journey. This Path will lead you into another Spiral of the Labyrinth of your Life. Only You can Walk that Spiral. Only You can Walk the Labyrinth of Your Life.”
And so after resting for a certain time I step back on the Path again, like a Cross-Country Skier stepping back in the Tracks again, to follow this Long and Winding Road, up and down and flat again, down and up and flat again, meandering like a river leaving debris on one side, showing erosion on the other side.
After a certain time I hear tinkling Ice again and the sound of melting Water. The Path widens and like a clearing in a forest there in front of me is an open space which sounds like a Cave, a large Cave.
Now I hear the sound of a burning Fire and a voice saying: “Welcome back. Welcome back. Come and sit with me by the Fire. Rest a bit and then tell me about your adventures in the Woods.”
And again I tell my story about my wandering around in the woods, sitting at many Sacred Fires, learning a lot and about missing one specific Fire, missing one specific Grandmother, She who dwells in the North.
How come that this Grandmother is missing in the world. How come that She is missing in my world.
“This Grandmother has never been missing in the world nor in yours. She has always been there. But many people are not looking into Her direction and so don’t see Her. She is not easy to find. She is not loud but silent. She is not spectacular but simple. She is hidden beyond Cultural Walls built from patriarchal Stones so one has to break down these Walls and has to dig really deep through snow and ice to get to Her. One has to reach beyond the war-like male dominant stories, songs, myths and legends to find Her, the Native European Grandmother, the white one. She belongs to the Circle of Indigenous Grandmothers but is mostly overlooked, forgotten, living so far away up in the very North. And who does like Cold and Darkness and is willing to set out on a Journey to find Her?”
“The Grandmother of the North has always been there.
Her Wisdom is Singing in your Blood, carved into your Bones, Woven into your Heart and Soul. She has been calling you and you finally heard Her and have followed Her Voice.
You can rest here as long as you wish and then I’ll send you back, back into the world. But before you go we will Sit by the Fire and I will Share the Secrets of the North with you. And I will offer you a Drink, the Mead of Memory, so that you will remember everything you’ve learned here when being back in the world. So it will be, so it will happen.”
I find myself back at the Well of Origin.
Do I still hear the sound of the burning Fire or is it the melting Water?
No, this sound is different.
What I hear is a Spinning Wheel.
Someone out there is Spinning the Threads and softly Singing a Song.
I listen and I hear a clear voice saying: “Good Morning, Granddaughter, welcome back” and a Spindle is laid in my hands.