For a long time I’ve been facing the fearful memories of the Burning Times when women (along with some men) were tortured, burned, and hanged for being healers, midwives and wise ones. See Flashback and Deus Ex Machina
There is a deeply held, visceral fear among many of us that we risk such burnings again by being out in the open about our beliefs and our deep connection with the Mother. Especially doing so in a small town. I first shared this painting publicly with some trepidation. But the phoenix is rising. We have come again. Flowers grow out of the compost of those memories. We are strong and beautiful, men and women both cradling those memories in our bellies. We can soften around that fear – all fears. We dance in joyful circles of tribe and community. Out of the Ashes like the Phoenix.