Always when I see pics of women they are young, beautiful, half-naked Goddess-like creatures. I am not. I was – once, but not anymore. Now I am a middle-aged, 4-children-body, eyes lined with pain, sorrow and joy-Goddess.
I don’t think all goddesses are young and gorgeous, I think the most powerful ones are the ladies that have been around for a while, the ladies that know about life and what it entails. The women who have, silently, suffered through every heart-ache in the world and still stand, who shed their tears in private and then go to the young ones to help them dry theirs…
I believe they are the silent, unobtrusive, hardly noticeable women who lightens up a dark house with a fire…Or a flower. She who carries her heart proudly, with sorrow and joy. She – the invisible – making the world a better place by giving her love over and over again.
The old woman that nobody sees, that holds the little child in her arms and sing songs to it. The old woman we go to share our deepest inner secrets. She will carry your secrets, kiss away your tears and always love you, no matter what. She is the goddess, the place of rest and peace. She demands nothing and gives everything.
(pic of TreeGodess, top, from Wordcatcher Colin Demet)