Sunday, March 29, 2009

A Letter to a Goddess


A while ago I heard that there were brush fires near a old friend of mine’s home. I e-mailed her to see if she was in the fires path. She wrote back that she was not, but that she did have bad news. She had breast cancer. She included a photo of herself bald, but with a great big smile on her face; sitting in her yoga class.
I hope I don’t seem self indulgent by posting this letter, that if the truth be told, I was rather proud of. But honestly my hope was that if I posted the letter I sent her, it might help someone else who may be feeling overwhelmed.

BHW

Dearest Mo,
First let me say that I love you. I always have. Your note made me worry and wish I could be there to hug you and make you laugh. When I looked at those photos you sent, there was my funny, sweet, friend with the laughing eyes and goofy smile. There you are obviously going through some hard shit, but still with that light in your eyes. I touched your face on the computer screen and searched for the right words to write back. So I waited. Paced the room and went to bed. But before I slept I said my prayers. To God, the Catholic Saints I grew up with , my guardian Angel, you’re guardian Angel, Buddha, and the Universe. I was exhausted by the time I was done. Thank Goodness I was so close to the bed!
It was in that quiet calm after prayer that the voice came. A voice that was so much calmer and so much wiser then mine.
What did you ask her?
Are you on Fire?
Was her answer, yes?

You are surrounded by those holocausts of flame, that destroy one place and just as easily leaves another in peace. It swirls around you, heat and smoke, flame and passion calling on you to be that other Mo. Not the kind, loving mother, the supportive mother/wife. Not the housekeeper, but the keeper of the flame.
The other Mo; the one you keep hidden away so that others need not tremble and fear in your presence.
You, that is, She.

She, the fire Goddess that lives deep in your soul. She who wears a fur bikini like Raquel Welch in the movie: One Million Years B.C. She, who stand four inches taller then any man. Who brings home the beacon, fires it up in a pan; a pan that was forged in a fire made strong by the burning hearts of those that would try to hurt her or those she loves. You that is She, whose love burns hotter that then sun. She that is You, who breathes into her lungs oxygen that feed that fire. You whose breath comes out in warm and controlled. You that mocks the dark evil cells that have the audacity to make their presence known. You laugh at their meager attempts and brush them away like dust moats in the aura of your light. There is a flash of jungle red nail polish as your hand passes through the air. At the same moment there is a charge, a spark of electricity that dances around your dangly earrings. It amuses you the way they tickle. With long sweeping strides you head to your yoga class. A flaming spear tossed casually over your shoulder. Along the way you spot Osama Bin Laden sleeping at a bus stop and smote him with a glance. You flip open your cell phone and call the authorities. They’ll find him in a pile of ash under a turban. He can stick that in a birka, you think to yourself. Around the corner you effortlessly throw your spear through the heart of a pedophile, then turn to find a would be terrorist hooking up a large D-cell battery to six bound sticks of dynamite. You stare into his chocolate brown, almond shaped eyes. He begins to mumble something, but you stop his words with a kiss. Hotly and wantonly you press yourself against this man, until all he can think of is You that is She. Your curves, your softness, the heat of your raw passion. You gently bite his lower lip and smile, saying, “Allah is a woman and she forgives you, now put away the toys, go home and draw me a bath”. In the yoga room others gather to find their center and enlightenment. The yoga mat is but a postage stamp under your big toe. For You that is She are the center from which all love and passion, heat and flame come. You are the light in enlightenment. But no. That is too strong. Too powerful for such a small room. You have no wish to make those with gentle souls quake in the glory that is You that is She. So you breathe slowly. With each breath becoming more compact, more civilized, and more genteel. You sit on the cool wood floor, on your mat that is now in it’s proper proportion. The jungle red of your nails is fades to a pretty pink. The passion and heat of your goddess heart folds in on itself again and again like the tempered steel of a samurai sword. Now, You that is She fits in the room and no one would suspect your power. But for those brave enough to look directly into your eyes. There they will see the flame. And for those foolish enough to anger you, well, you’ll show them your Warrior Pose.
Tonight put on your fur bikini and go outside and find the full moon. I on the other coast will put on mine. (It’s nice a leopard number) and we will howl at the moon together across this long distance that separates us. Then grab your daughter and I will grab mine and we will all howl. And then dance!

16 comments:

Gorilla Bananas said...

Now that's the kind of female I need in my team in the jungle! I hope it inspires your friend to fight off her illness.

FrankandMary said...

Can I take you to do charity work with me? I have been looking for someone like you for a long time.

That was FAR from self-indulgent. That is a letter I'd post on a breast cancer awareness site if I were you. THAT is much better than a pink ribbon, in spades. ~Mary

Jimmy Bastard said...

I really admire a stong woman.. a most superb post indeed.

Ana said...

Your description of your friend reminds me of Marlow's description of the woman Kurtz seems to have had a relationship with in the jungle in The Heart of Darkness. A mighty, powerful woman who can bring them to their knees or make them fight for her. Hers is the power and with a sidelong glance, she can annihilate or bring grace. A truly wonderful letter of praise and encouragement. Would that we all had such a friend as you to remind us of what makes us great.

Madame DeFarge said...

I think that I'd like to receive a letter like that if I was in your friend's situation. Especially the bit about dancing!

Peter N said...

WOW! That was totally amazing. Further words escape me, and you know me well enough to know that I'm always filled with words. My heartsounds were singing...loudly. They still are. Thank you.

PS...can't wait for part three!!!!!!

Deborah said...

you left me searching for words, i kept typing a reply and removing it - i am genuinely touched by this letter, and I hope it will give your friend the strength she needs.
I admire your light touch, your effort to make her laugh, such as the bit about being exhausted after all those prayers.
I wish her all the best!

Daphne Wayne-Bough said...

Yo sistah. We know who we are. I liked the bit about pulverizing OBL, although I think there might be a fatwa out on you after saying Allah is a woman. Ah feck it, we'll stand shoulder to shoulder with ya (again). Kick that bastard into touch, Mo.

Beverly Hamilton Wenham said...

Mr. G.B. : What if I told you she was also covered all over with a downy fur?!

Mary: I thought of sending it out to a breast cancer newsletter or something, but I thought the whole Taliban thing might be too political, rather than empowering. I would love to do something like this for charity if the opportunity came along.

Mr. Bastard: That coming from you is the highest praise.

Ana: Gee! Your freaking me out. Me and Marlow, we are so mirror images of each other in every other way. So I can see that. You meant Philip Marlow. Right?

Madame: That's it we are going! I see no reason to wait for the full moon. If you ever need a letter just let me know, you witty friend!

Pete: Your always so good to me gentle reader! I promise Three is still on it's way. Boy, now it has to be good!

Deb: Thank you for your kind words. She is just such a funny friend. Anything too heavy just wouldn't be a letter to her. The hardest part was keeping my feelings in check, but keeping them honest at the same time.

Daphne: Sister! I know I am in such trouble. I've been hiding under the bed since I posted! It's hard to be a feminist these days. We are so annoying!

You are all making me so much braver everyday!

Brandon G. said...

Sorry for jumping into this so late, but that was a beautiful post! My sister-in-law recently had breast cancer, so I know that feeling quite well. I think it's awesome that you would care and dare enough to write this letter. You rock.

Deborah said...

Dear Bev,

For my MA creative writing, I'm researching social networking as a way for authors to become more visible.

Since you've got a 'gang' of people who leave replies on your messages, I was wondering if you could give me an estimate of how much time you spend on reading other people's blogs and giving them response.

Thanks!

Deborah

Heff said...

Raquel Welch ROCKS. Sorry. It HAD to be said.

Scarlet-Blue said...

Crikey Bev, it's May, where have you gone?
Sx

Kate Lord Brown said...

Beverly The Magnificent! Fluffing my fur bikini and howling in Hampshire tonight x

Eva said...

That letter has touched me so much as my aunt recently had breast cancer and beat it against all odds. That letter is so empowering and your friend is so lucky to have you and so am I. (as soon as I'm sans bump, I shall proudly display my fur bikini very proudly - that somehow came out wrong but you know what I mean ;o)

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