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The Sleeping Lady
By Tina Deason
The earth in its dormancy is like a sleeping lady. Her make-up: the leaves, the flowers, and the vines, are washed away and her naked face is revealed.
And like a sleeping woman, one can see the radiance that glows from within.
Without the outer adornment, we see that beauty is skin deep. . . the bark on the trees, the moss on the ground, and the rosehips clinging to the bushes.
All that was hidden or silently forming is now exposed. We find glory in the structure and smell the scent of Nature’s Night Cream wafting through the air.
Without the blanket of sunshine, we realize the bareness of earth’s body, with angles and curves we neglected to see before. Now we reach out to caress them and notice some areas are smooth and some are not only rough, but fuzzy like an old woman’s face.
The older woman, sleeping, the gentle snoring as the wind blows through a valley or a hollow. The slippery ground we walk upon, formed by her tears of letting go.
She looks brittle but she is as strong as ever. Her roots run deep and her heartbeat thrums its pulse . . . so powerful we feel it in our bodies.
The snow will come and create a blanket, one to shelter the earth, making her pure once again. And then spring will come, and the sleeping woman will awake. She is revived and fertile. She is waiting to open, and to blossom once again. To birth the world anew.
But for now, she rests. She sleeps in peace. She trusts the cycles of the year and refrains from worry, for it does no good. Her elegance is born from this faith of safety, and she continues to bring comfort to her creatures, for the earth will always be our person, our go to, and when getting back to nature we meet up with her. She embraces us, the hug is full of confidence and pride.
Looking out the window today, and noticing the dark morning and the purple haze of tule fog, I know that it has begun.
The transformation of one year into the next. I know the Maiden lies down as a Crone and sleeps . . . and I will, too.
Resting is what is needed to rebuild.
Having patience releases worry.
Less worry means less wrinkles.
Tina Deason is a mom, writer, and a spiritual leader.
She lives in Rohnert Park with her fur babies, The Mitten, Dewey, Freyja, and husband. Visit La Bona Dea’s Journal of Everyday Magic to learn more about Tina.
