The Chariot Left Behind
“Why don’t you swing down sweet Chariot stop and let me ride…! Swing down swing Chariot stop and let me ride. Rock me now, rock me now slow and easy…I got a home on the other side”
Nine went out with a bang….and into the ONE is a whole other flight. The planertary alignment of Moon, eclipse fills the Cosmic Airport with last minute cancellations and new issue on boarding passes. This reflection is shared in a New York state of Mind…Like roots beneath Jamaica Hospital in QUEENS calling back my soul to REmember! The matrix RELOADED for real…like crossing the George Washington Bridge down into an under pass that would snatch the navigator lady right out of her signal. Like a sea of cars, 18 wheelers, cycles, cabs and pedestrians …Everywhere! Into Harlem from Buffalo, NY…drained beyond measure. We have never driven anywhere in this city, not to mention a decade or more absence from Harlem. We give thanks…panic is no longer an option.
Yet, that Blessed Assurance that my grandmothers would sing, that we are divinely led on our missions…and will, from time to time become very tired. Baba mi Obatala soro…”you will never give up your mission”.
The thunder rolled out on Elegba’s day before my earth day…the end of February in the season of Olokun. HE Iya Baba Oni Songo rang my phone in a level of hysteria that quickly informed my heart that Baba Omolade had joined the ancestors. In the early morning hours of Oya’s day we were awakened by LOUD knocking on the side of the house. Auntie Lulu, My husband’s family from next door, was getting me to the phone for an emergency call???? Mr. John Denee, my cousin Mark’s boss brought the news my heart already knew would be true. This mysterious sudden departure from the Earth School, by way of Mark being Josephine’s other grandchild would catapult me North…to re-member.
It wasn’t until we were “landed” in Sako’s “Nice and Naughty spoken word slam” that our soul began to perceive what back doors to life’s realities would swing open? More than we could share in this heartspace…Niagara Falls, The African Consciousness Workshop, Thoughts and Visions TV, a MoonLodge of SiSTARQueens Rising, ancestral medicine and conversations…tears, Death and now Rebirth. This staircase to heaven is shrewn with gifts…the least of which is the Jeep Liberty chariot , moving us with ease and grace to the Northeast destinies of this new cycle.
This chariot left behind, moved through the streets of Buffalo soldiers with the fury of a tent revival. So much so that SiSTARQueens there have called a council for the rites of initiation and ordination into the tools of Sacred Activism are harnessed to support the journey ahead. On the shoulders, herstories and lives of women that made history in this third lunation celebrates Women’s history and offers each of us the ability to Weigh the Truth and govern our codes of conduct accordingly.
The practical application of the customs, traditions, rites and rituals of our ancient mothers MUST not be discarded… but embraced! It’s time to sort the lessons we have come through. The treasures of conscious rebirth are endless!
Returning to the Source of our highest I AM is the goal. This is our Divine inheritance. To ignore, neglect our hide our Light…is a slap in the face of our ancestors, everything they lived and died for.
On Friday evening…we are women weaving the web. As the sacred space is Blessed and open we exchange Who we are? Why we have Come? …and what serves the highest of our destiny to rebirth into this Spring.
Saturday is full of clan mother teachings. Together we remember how and why to remove the Masks that are harmful to ourselves and others. By tending our spiritual gardens, we are encouraged to check the soil of our lives for good fertilization, where are the weeds growing? What flowers of Truth are being choked out? Most of all we have to remove the tools that are broken. Re-membering ourselves as midwives we enter the Ceremony of Masks. We enter the Dreamtime, with inspiration to choose the Queens finest words and protocals. These tools are essential to our forward progression and navigations.
Sunday morning each woman becomes the altar. She moves into