Ancient eyes are an entryway to Pele’s fiery realm. I can see her dancing, in her red robes, on the rim of the distant volcano, destroying old, creating new. To travel there, I must fall backward in time, through my mother’s eyes, and my grandmother’s eyes, continuing through the soul windows of all my feminine ancestry, tracing a matriarchal lineage of birth and death. Falling through multiple lenses of women’s perspective, I learn patience, wisdom, and the power of pure loving action.I am part of the feminine spirit erupting into life through cycles. Sometimes I lie dormant, content to nurture the ember of my dream. I may vent steam as I collect the necessary heat of desire to become something more.
At times I am the slow moving, churning lava, amassing potential energy for change. In the next moment, I am molten lava as it blasts up into the air, hit by the gusty winds of life and stretched into extremely thin threads of glass which then fall like shiny amber rain in the sunlight. My eyes help to make things seem linear, which indeed they are not.
They are jagged, circular and inside out. Pele’s fire has scorched my separation and my mundane boxes, leaving gifts in my inner storehouse for my greater creative expression. I open all of the windows in the house of flames to have a better view of the stars. The goddess of fire and all of the mothers have joined to become twinkling lights, soul sparks, a celestial map of our collective journey to burn brightly the inner radiance of Self.Pele/volcano photo credit
Copyright © Bentley Kalaway 2009
