Spiral of Life
Yesterday afternoon, I was drawn to this tree at Tomales. I loved the circles, the spiral shape of it. Someone said it was dying. To me, it felt full of life.
It reminded of the Spiral Dance, I was a part of, many years ago. Almost twenty five-years ago. It was held by a group of Dianic Witches in Bodega Bay in an old farmhouse with a big living room area cleared of furniture and clutter. It was Halloween night. The Spiral Dance is a dance, a rebirth, a creative force powered by a group of women dancing in a circle, chanting, singing and drumming to raise a spiral of energy tunneling from the ground up into the sky.
That night, in the old ghost white farmhouse, our bare feet planted on the wood worn floor, so long ago, we lifted our skirts, pulled up our leggings, held hands and danced in a circle to the beat of drums, the howls of women and ancient songs. We danced and danced, faster and faster, reaching a frenzy, spinning the circle, around and around, until I felt like my feet were lifted up off the ground, my body held by the women around me. I could feel our energy rise up above us, through the roof, into the dark night sky, through the bright twinkling of stars and behind the almost full pearl white moon connecting the spiral of life, death, and rebirth into our celebration dance of immortality.