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April 2014     

 Goddess Musings from Sharon

You've been on my mind a lot recently. Everything is a'bloom in this part of the world, making it oh so easy to remember the Goddess, to see her everywhere.

I, for one, am grateful for that.

It's a time that always pulls to mind a friend named Jo Carson. Though she 'consciously uncoupled' from this world a few years ago, she left us with lots of words and memories that bring her to mind.

Jo had a house that had a yard, and in that yard is a tree. A lot of beers were consumed by her friends sitting with her on the porch just staring at that tree when it blossomed out.

You see, this was not just any tree. This is a tree that, against all odds and actuarial tables, had already seen a century go by.

But still . . . like the Greek goddess Persephone, this tree comes back each spring to lift our spirits even though she long ago discarded the innocence of her youth.

We are grateful for that. . .

and for Jo who taught us to look at trees and see hussies instead.

 

Spring Rites

     by Jo Carson

 

 

 

The crabapple in the backyard
has given up blossoms to spring rain
like a girl might shed a prom dress
to put on jeans for the party after.
Green, of course. Fashion
will be honored even in old trees.

 

 

  To be able to show off like that . . .
the whole of the backyard
has been abuzz for a solid week.
But now the dress is at her feet;
the ground looks like bloody snow.

The dress was pink, yes pink,
but not some sweet pastel.
She is much too old for the
''wouldn't-an-ornamental-be-nice'
shade of nursery tree polite pink.
She wears a fierce electric fuchsia
with red-headed woodpeckers
and yellow-bellied sap suckers
playing jewels over her limbs.

Ostentatious is hardly the word.

 

   

I do not know what is going on.
I am not so young or green myself.
I am pink, in fact, but lacking sap-suckers
and all that buzzing is far more
than benign conversation.
There is nothing polite about it.
She had a thousand or more callers
with something very satisfactory
wide open to each one of them,
and all this in the light of day.

I saw it.

And who knows what went on
at night out in my backyard?

Now she, too, is evidently satisfied.
The dress is shed
and the old business of being fruitful
is underway again.

 

Spring Rites was first published in the Appalachian Journal, Vol. 32, No. 3, and is used here with the permission of the author.  Jo Carson, poet, storyteller, award-winning playwright and friend, is the author of several books. Stories I Ain't Told Nobody Yet is my personal favorite.
 

You may recall that Persephone was the innocent young daughter of the earth goddess, Demeter, who went a bit 'crazy' when Persephone was abducted by the Hades, the gloomy goth guy who was God of the Underworld. He had plans to forcibly make her his bride. (Which mother among us wouldn't unravel under those circumstances??)

Eventually Demeter found her daughter. But by the time she got there, Persephone had fallen madly, passionately in love with the guy. She knew she had to go back with her mother but couldn't bear to leave this man who adored her so. What's a poor girl to do?

Using a bit of trickery, she figured a way to spend half of the year as the Goddess of the Underworld and the other half back in Mamma's loving care. So every year she  leaves her subterranean home to return to the earth as the goddess of Springtime, bringing us the valuable gift of verdant life and the promise of renewal in our lives. 

Get the whole story using this link:  myths of the Greek goddess Persephone.

In closing,
   a reminder to...

Notice things,
     see the goddess where she appears,
     make room for life,
     and enjoy the abundance that is all around you.

Sharon

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