The Women at the Edge of the World

This week I have been listening to various podcasts presented by the Global Sisterhood, whose founders, Lauren Walsh and Shaina Connors, are dedicated to creating women’s circles around the world. The podcasts, dedicated to the “Time of the Feminine,” are a series of interviews that focus on the role of the Feminine in healing the world. I would highly recommend that you listen to some of these interviews. They are powerful reminders of how we as women can make a difference in this broken world.

One of the things that I gleaned from several of the podcasts is how important it is to follow our intuition and be in tune with our own inner instincts. Today I am following this teaching by publishing a story that I wrote over twenty years ago.  Inspired by a painting created by a friend, this story speaks to that ancient wisdom that is in all of us and is an alternate version of the creation story. It continues to move me away from the Patriarchal and male-centered view of creation to a deeply feminine view of women as creators.

                           The Women at the Edge of the World

The Ancient ones tell the story of the women at the edge of the world. They heard the tale from their grandmothers who heard it from their grandmothers who heard it from their grandmothers – all the way back before the beginning of all things – before the beginning of time. Then the world was not as we know it today. It was not a bright blue orb twirling in the heavens, but a dark and heavy rock waiting for a spark of light to bring it to life.

One day the mothers came out of the depths of the rocky earth. Five old ones, ancient and wise, came from the center of the earth. They stood on the edge of the world where the sky meets the sea. Their stone bodies stood poised and expectant. For a long while, as the people reckon time, the old ones waited. Eons and eons they waited. With the infinite patience of stone they waited, as women through the succeeding ages have waited until it is time. And as they waited, they dreamed.

At the end of the long dream, one of the women began to sing. At first it was an almost imperceptible hum, low and quiet, vibrating the stone of her body. Then the song began to grow, and as it grew, the old one’s body began to soften, to gain elasticity. Where there had been stone, there was now flesh and bone, hair, teeth, and nails. As the old one became flesh, her song grew strong and sweet. It flew over the formless earth waking the stones and the seas, rising to the heavens.

Then water gushed from the old one’s body, and with a mighty push, she gave birth to a son. This child was bathed in light, a brilliant white light that covered the whole earth. The old one held the child to her bosom. She caressed and suckled the babe, whispering to it the love songs of the ancient mother. For a long time, she held the child close to her bosom, as the brilliant light that was the child bathed her in its whiteness. Then suddenly she tossed the boy high into the heavens where he became the sun.

Again, the old one sang, and this song was sweeter and fiercer than the first. Once again, the old mother gave birth, this time to a baby girl. This baby was also a child of light, but her light was softer, less glaring than the light of the first child. The old one held and caressed the girl child, singing her ancient songs while she suckled the child at her gigantic breasts. Then she blessed the baby and tossed her high into the heavens, where the girl child joined her brother and became the moon.

Then the old woman reached down to the ground. She picked up a giant boulder and crushed it to sand in her hand. She took the sand, breathed on its grains, and flung them into the far reaches of the heavens, where they became the stars. Thus, light came to the earth.

The second old one began to hum her song. It too began very low, vibrating the stones at the edge of the world. As she sang, this old one’s song grew stronger and stronger, with a fierceness that made the waves of the sea rise up over the earth. Her song was of rain, of wind, of fire. The singing began to take shape. Over the earth, clouds began to form, dark with storm. The air began to whirl, and the first winds began to blow clouds over the sea. The air sizzled with electricity. Lightening cracked and thunder rolled. Fire came from the skies and from deep within the earth. The land began to roll and heave as the mountains rose from the sea. The land gathered in one place, and the sea found its home. The earth began to spin in its place in the heavens. And the old woman’s body burned with the gift of fire.

The third old one began to hum her song, a soft song, a green song. Her voice became true and clear. The stone of her body also began to change, becoming not flesh but wood. Her stone feet grew deep roots into the earth. Her legs became the strong trunks of trees, her arms tender branches. Her hair became green, woody tendrils, which began to bud and flower. Every possible plant came from her body, each one budding and flowering, then casting its seeds to the wind. And the old woman’s song became the sighing of leaves and branches reaching toward the warmth of the sun child.

Then the fourth old one started her song. Her body also began to change as, with the singing, the round stone became flesh, pregnant with new life. And that new life was born from her own body – fantastic creatures of every shape and size. The fish were born and were carried into the sea by the waves washing over the old one. The birds flew from her body and caught the wind, soaring high over the old ones. The serpents and the insects gathered around her feet. Then all manner of hoofed and clawed creatures were born, until all the animals of the earth were birthed. Then each creature divided into two parts, female and male, so that life could continue to replenish itself through all time to come. Then the creatures of the earth, including human creatures, joined the song of the ancient ones, and the song was a song of life.

Finally, the fifth mother began her song. Her song was the strongest and sweetest of all the songs that had been sung. As it wove in and out over the whole earth, it touched everything that had been made, caressing each and every creation. This was the song of the creator for its creation. Every creature that had been made stopped to listen, for this song carried within itself the seeds of soulfulness. It sang to every creature the love of the mother for her children, blessing each creation and calling it good.

And when the song was finished the ancient mothers walked into the sea at the edge of the world and left the grandmothers to tell the tale.                     

Barbara Garland – April 2001