Updated: Feb 15
I've always had a rebellious streak. Or at least that's what I tell myself. But recently I've been trawling back through childhood and family memories and have to acknowledge that in my formative years I was anything BUT rebellious! As the middle child of five, I recognise that it was my two older sisters who were the rebels. Back in the sixties and early seventies, they who were the ones who were always staying out late, being brought home by the police, or giving out a false name etc. By contrast, I was Little Miss Goody Two Shoes. I was the one who did well at school, never got detention, studied and got good grades. I was the first one in the immediate family who went on to get a college education and I recall how proud my father was by that fact. By that time I was also a hallelujah, glad-hands, born again christian who spent Sunday afternoons at a local home-based bible study group for teenagers run by a zealous couple. It was here I learned to play guitar, getting to know all the well known gospel songs of the years. We would be taken to the seafront to preach the gospel and hand out leaflets and I spent one summer at a christian-based holiday on the Isle of Wight. In 1973 I spent three weeks in London attending Billy Graham rallies in Earls Court and sleeping in a church hall in Stepney (I remember the rats that used to come out at night!). These early teenage religious experiences certainly installed a sense of independence and, I now recognise, it gave me a home too. A place where I could express myself honestly, where the talk was on the 'big' things in life such as the afterlife, the cosmos, paranormal activity, healing, miracles etc. The things I loved. This was totally different from the sort of home life I had and where I had no outlet for that type of interaction or understanding. So, aged 17, I bunked out of college, left home and went to work for a missionary society in London, sleeping first in hostels until I found a bedsit I could call home. This was my first true rebellious streak and it gave me a deep sense of freedom. I continued to spend years dipping in and out of various religions but one thing they all had - and still have - in common was the patriarchal construct that has kept women subservient to male authority, both in the home and in religious texts for thousands of years. When the inevitable straw-that-broke-the-camel's-back moment came calling (the subject of a future blog no doubt!) the veil finally lifted. I began my training in the healing arts and my understanding of the divine feminine principle finally began to make sense. I felt like a butterfly finally emerging from the dark cocoon. More years of training, understanding the quantum nature of the universe, and shamanic awareness and training, followed. So now, decades later, as we continue to witness the rise of the Divine Feminine in a vortex of new Priestesshood, I can truly take my place alongside my sisters as a Crone in my glorious rebellious, outspoken, authentic, compassionate, honest and true self. This Crone has found her place. AND IT FEELS BLOODY GOOD.