We write it down. Sketch with pencils long abandoned, set it to music years in the making, speak it, yell it, cry out with voices that may sometimes go unheard. We frame it with a lens, cook it into nourishment for many, sign it, make magic wands and fragrant goddesses. We install the voices of those who are long forgotten. All we dream and create honours our intentions and our deepest souls, the fears that we have abandoned in a week of courageous mind-searching. We pass the sticks and are witnessed. We pass the sink and wash the accumulated dishes. We pass by our co-travellers and share a hug. We pass by the river and abandon our clothing, surrendering to sweet currents and healing touch. We pass the blame and are rightly challenged. We pass the salad tongs and share in the bounty of the earth, the land, the souls that contribute to our healing. We pass the learning, loving and sharing to the next generation. Strong women we are, and loving men, and shining deities we have all become in one week together, and a lifetime of accumulated lessons. A wise woman leads us, wise enough to know when to follow, when to invoke silence, when to leave. And we honour her with our passing through her gates, and passing out into the world with our dreams of peace and love. As we take our golden orbs homeward the highways glow like arteries from a central heart beating; through the interstates, beyond the borders, clinging hopefully to vapour trails across the country. We remain connected in our most vital places with gratitude and love.
(written with love and heartfelt gratitude to Ferron, Mary, my beloved Melyssa, Karin and her girls, Emily, Beverly, PJ, Jen, Maria, Michelle, Jenn, Linda, Jane, Susi, Bill, Sue, Esyule, Renee and many other shining souls who witnessed both in body and in spirit.