A Forest Gathering: Part Three of a Series on the Four Feminine Archetypes
The Creatrix
The Siren hacked thin vines through the jungle brush with a machete the tribes men gave her, now long departed in their quest for the magical tiara. Steps behind her The Wondrous Child tugged at her skirt caught on a branch. Half shouting to the Siren and half talking to herself, “Why oh why do these bushes like my skirt so much?” “And now you know just why I tore my dress off at the hip,” The Siren replied. Thinking to herself, the Child, “Yes, and… that’s not the only reason” and laughs and rolls her eyes. The Siren abruptly announces, “Here we are! Just as the tribes leader said.”
The temperature turns crisp and cool as they step together into an open field abundant with plants of all colors and shapes. Insects and butterflies dashing about each plant, doing what they do best. Doing what she does best is a matronly woman hunched over the middle of the garden, a garden with well-manicured rows of ripe vegetables and rich soil.
The sun was dipping down casting a warm glow against their faces as they approached this gardener hoping not to surprise her. As they approach, they can hear her muttering, “I prefer you elsewhere.” The Siren, slightly alarmed, stops short of the gardening woman and responds, “We are only passing through,” to which the gardener laughs without looking up, “I was speaking to these weeds. They’re drawing the water away from my onions.”
At this point, The Wondrous Child pushes past the slender legs of The Siren, curious to see who’s speaking and in disbelief asks, “Do you always talk to your plants?” The woman stands up from her stool, “All living things of nature need to be addressed kindly. But you know this, Wondrous Child,” she says with a smile.
Just then, the weeds upoot themselves and saunter off down the road bowing to the Gardener and curtseying to The Child who giggles and bends down to look closer. The Siren begins to interrupt but the gardener continues, “And Siren, I’ve been expecting you both!”
The woman stands in her muted but color-patched smock hugging each traveler with a comforting glint in her eyes. “No doubt the tribesmen let you know of us,” responds The Siren. To which the gardener says, “Yes, they did but I knew of The Siren before that. You feel everything and easily sense the power of being gazed upon, of the sensual energy to magnetize, attract, and influence. You also sense the respectful fear of this gift. The Siren is the navigator of relationships and the primal energy that ties people together. With this knowledge and the confidence of her body, she can bend will, like how fire can pull air. Your keen awareness and observations about yourself and others have created preferences; both empowering and limiting.” The Siren, listening intently, begins to soften at the gardener’s matronly tone and says tearfully, “How do you know me, and who are you?” The gardener replies, “I know because I know and sense all life. I am The Creatrix. I can help you find the tiara of new beginnings. First, we must eat. I am making dinner for us in my home.”
As the sun sets and the sky darkens, fireflies begin to light the path out of the garden to a nearby cottage. They follow The Creatrix, hunching under low branches. The Creatrix thanks the trees as they drop ripe, brightly colored fruit directly into the hands of each traveler. Smoke billows lightly from the cottage chimney and yellow-orange light emanates from the paned windows, that against the now indigo sky seems to pulse like a heartbeat. Immediately, their stomachs begin to make gurgling noises, and The Child shouts, “What smells so yummy?” “That, is my favorite stew, made with love, of course,” The Creatrix answers as they open the door with a large, handmade wreath on it and enter her home. The hearth is crackling, and the stove pot is bubbling.
Pictures and postcards of loved ones line the walls, all with words of gratitude and joy for The Creatrix. Blankets, cushions, and fuzzy throws cover puffy couches. Colorfully painted walls seem to match equally colored paintings on easels, semi-finished, while other crafts of quilting and needlework lie atop a table. There seems to be as many plants inside as out.
As The Child and Siren take in their new surrondings, The Creatrix is quiet, respectful, grounded, and contemplative. Almost telepathically, she invites them to just be, feel the place, and allow only smiles and relief on their faces transmit their feelings. Just then, The Child’s eyes widen, and she gleefully points at a wooden tiara on the fireplace mantle. Before The Child can speak, The Creatrix, who is stirring the stew, says, “That, though beautiful, is not the magical tiara. It is a prototype, a sister, if you will.” The Siren asks, “How did you come into its possession? Where is its sister?” The Creatrix responds, “I know because I made them both. And it can take us to its sister.”
“However, for now, sit and eat as the food is hot and I’ll tell you a story.” The Creatrix tells them about the third of the feminine archetypes. They listen intently as she explains that all women have the power to be Earth Keepers.
“They call forth their fertility, to give life, to nurture souls, to birth new ideas, then take those same ideas and widen them. They have the power, if they choose, to see, gather, and act on all possibilities, offer to all those in contact with them, differing viewpoints and options. They can do this because of their receptive and stable persona. She explains all women can do this through keeping their hearts centered and open; through deeply feeling everything and everyone, showing empathy, loving and caring for others in need. They create from nothing and share it with all, as does the earth. In this way, all sisters are connected to each other.”
In awe of this embodiment of love, The Siren and The Child hold hands. At that moment, the wooden tiara begins to glow. “And here we go,” The Creatrix says quietly as she takes down the wooden tiara and places it in front of them. Grabbing their hands, and conpleting the circle with the wooden tiara in the center, it glows even brighter.
“If you believe, we are all sisters, then this tiara will find her sister, the magical one, and take us there.” They close their eyes, The Child playfully squinting through hers, as the light from wooden tiara glows brighter to match the colors of the cottage, envelop them, and then flash, they disappear into a swirling vortex of light.