Green Feet in the fire
Several years ago, a gathering of twelve women who had attended my workshops stood in a circle as we began the rituals connected with the traditional Andean wisdom keeper’s fire ceremony.
It was March in the Netherlands and we waited in the cold darkness for the fire makers to light the fire. The trees leaned in and out, as if they held and released us with their long, strong and swaying collective presence.
Shortly before this, we had been warm and cozy in the home of one of the women, sharing a variety of tasty and nourishing food, sweets, tea and wine. We shared our stories since the last time we had come together, laughing and crying, all the masks coming off.
The sacred space always encourages us to speak from our hearts, looking into the eyes of the sisters and brothers next to and across from us, looking at ourselves in the mirrors of their stories and tears. Here the women shared their thoughts or expressed emotions without words and felt that they could dare to just be themselves, without anything extra. And then the inevitable moment when it was time to put the food away, pack the bags, throw on the coats and head out to the Klooster Nieuwkerk, an old, beautifully converted nun’s cloister where we did our workshops and trainings.
The grounds are spacious and protected by the surrounding woods; private, sheltered and inviting. The fire space was at the back of the property. Twelve of the almost twenty-five women who had been attending the workshops over the last year and a half here in the Netherlands, stood in silence as the fire was lit.
The newspaper and kindling caught fire, the wood swiftly following. These women knew how to make a proper fierce fire! We would have to wait awhile before we could approach the flames to do our personal cleansing and renewing of our three energy centers, belly, heart and forehead. As the teacher, I would come first to the fire as the group rattled and chanted, coming into relationship with the raging energy, asking permission to approach for our sacred work.
Before I began, several of us on the southwest side of the fire noticed a small creature hopping quickly along. The fire by now was big and bright, so we could see the little green body clearly, as tiny as a thumb. Hopping with a purpose towards the fire. Towards the fire! A collective gasp rose from those of us who could see the critter and before anyone could do anything, he catapulted himself (I say he, but who knows with frogs?) directly into the fire. Now the whole group knew about the frog in the fire.
Definitely fried frog, is all I could think. And then in the space of the time it took to gasp and think this thought, the little green toylike character jumped back out on the other side of the fire, hopping off as though he had not been, a moment ago, in a crackling inferno.
Just another ordinary day in the life of those on the non-ordinary mystical path.
