Spiritual Sleeping Pill

My lastest shift for Brighid was on the 3rd. Lit my candle at 4pm, when the sun went down. By 7 I was dead tired -- couldn't stop yawning, could barely keep my eyes open. Eventually bowed to the inevitable and went to sleep.

2013, so far, has been a rough year for me. When things are especially tough She tends to slip me a sleeping pill on my shift nights. There have been shift nights where I've conked out without even remembering to light a candle, say my prayer, acknowledge shift start time at all. I sleep several hours and then wake up feeling refreshed and wondering what the hell just happened.

It's almost like a divine alien abduction.

I used to feel guilty when this happened, but eventually I came to accept it. She's a goddess of, among many other things, healing. Her followers have to take care of themselves, too, and if we won't, She will make sure we do. I've realized, over the past 3 years, that yes, She wants me to do Her work, and it is hard work -- but She also wants me as whole as can be, and will not let me work myself to death.

So on shift nights when I start yawning very early, I go to bed as soon as I'm able and enjoy the rest She brings me. It's few and far between that I have a good night's sleep, after all.

Prophecy

She spoke to me in a tongue of flame,
light flickering along the edges of my soul.

Like a dam bursting, Her words freed the truth already locked within me.

Desperation flew
as the lies of my childhood fought the oncoming flood.
They dig deep roots.

But water is more powerful,
and I know I am worthy:

I stand naked and proud before the Gods.

Anointed, Their priestess.
And I am ready to hear Their sacred whispers
that ring like great horns in my head

Like a snake’s tongue,
fire cleans my ears.
And Her song
reverberates through my very being.
The music makes a part of me I thought was dead
break into a new dance,
shedding old skin.

Power of words and words of power.

I speak not of change already set to happen:
it is my speech that draws it to life.

A picture painted
with sunlight on clouds.
And just as permanent.

Land, Sea, Sky
What secrets do you hold?

Brighid keep me
Brighid teach me
How to speak with the world.

Fires of inspiration
Waters of passion
The path of sacred art calls me to your meeting places

Brighid hold me
Brighid keep me

Help me heal myself.
Help me bring Your prophecy:
words to heal the world.

Writing as a Healing Tool

I don't really consider myself a healer these days; at least not directly. It's not something I really focus on.

I don't really need to. I end up doing healing work in Brighid's name quite often, and sometimes inadvertently. Because one of the other things she has me do is write, and sometimes people tell me that what I've written has helped them heal themselves.

And sometimes what I write helps me heal myself.

I live in a world where writing really can save your life. That's because of Brighid. That's her blessing to me.

It's not an easy blessing to bear, but it is a blessing.

Mender of Broken Hearts

Image via WikipediaBrighid, you who shines in the night sky

Brighid, you who rises above the eastern horizon to lead us to goodness every morn

Brighid, you whose light is within us all

Brighid, you for whom my heart beats

Brighid, you with the stitching kit and infinite patience

Brighid, you with the song to sing me well

Brighid, you with the hammer to smooth my roughness

I was broken before you, O Brighid, you who mends my cuts and tears and gets me ready for the front line. 

I've been broken again, O Mistress of my undying devotion. 

To you I return, again, and again -- to face the night, to face the dawn, to face the world with a new bravery kindled in my heart, with a new light to show me my path, with new love swelling in my chest. 

Brighid, shining above us

Brighid, lighting our ways

Brighid, reminding us of our humanity.