I'm feeling sacredly irreverent and righteously mischievous ~ in the style of Tom Robbins, Rob Brezsny, and bunnies and flowers everywhere. It's Easter time. And while I haven't observed the stilted and solemn version of this holiday in years, I'm feeling like Celebrating the ancient, Earth-centered day that marks Spring.
Eostre: Estrus. The time of heightened fertility.
The Christ story is one of many myths whose symbolism observes this time of year when Summer's Sun emerges from the womb of Winter. Quite sadly, our misogynistic and repressed tradition ignores the divine orgy. We may be prim and powdered in our Easter suits and Derby hats, but Nature hasn't forgotten the original "reason for the season." Stepping outside, Eostre is flinging herself at me. Everywhere I look, sex is being conceived abundantly and joyfully in the open air with completely clean conscience. The bugs on our back deck. The trees along the streets that are littering the world with their seed for blocks around, in an ecstatic arbor porn. Flowers scandalously numerous - displaying themselves voluptuous and clad in shockingly flamboyant colors, sharing their fragrance with anyone who'll thrust their face into bursting petals and drink deep.
All kinds, jumbled and climbing one another!
Jasmine spreading her scent so potently, it's scandalous!
So many! Flashing such color for all to see!
Not even contained in a proper garden plot ~ just out in the middle of the lawn. Unabashed!
Open and primed.
THIS is the stuff of Eostre! Wholly holy, mysterious, and urgently relevant. Wash your soul in this gushing nectar and you will be free indeed.
I don't mean to offend, but to extend Nature's invitation to celebrate Life in its abundance! Messy, stinky, juicy! Fragrant and flagrant.
Her gifts overfloweth.
Come Home today.
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