Bloodroot Honey Priestess Tribe

My body bleeds.  Pretty regularly. In a mostly predictable pattern.  I
am a cisgendered woman, in what I would call the "mother" phase of
life.

Last month, when the Amazon Priestess Tribe began the Mother of theNew Time project, my blood came a week early.  I woke that next
morning with stains in the bed and a joyful heart.  I was ready to
anoint my stone with my magical life essence! I was pleased that my
body saw fit to take part in the energy my mind was so ready to
embrace.  Once my prayers were said, I went on about my day, leaving
the stone on the altar on a high shelf in my bathroom.

The next morning, I discovered something disturbingly real.  Ants eat blood.

The altar, the stone, the wall leading from the exhaust fan in my
bathroom, were all covered in ants.  Hungry, swarming ants, devouring
the blood I had left so seductively near the fan; inadvertently
broadcasting pheromones like an apple pie on a window sill.

Here was the truth of it: life is messy, gross, and real.  My gorgeous
son is proof enough that life is beautiful and fun and joyful.  But
watching that miraculous substance - the same substance that took one
act of lovemaking and created a whole other being - eaten by ants (the
bane of an apartment dweller's existance) was so shocking, I was moved
to tears.  Life is gross.

Women are, right this minute, being targeted because they are women.
In the United States, the conversation has turned back to equating
birth control with promiscuity and prostitution.  And there is still
no equal pay for equal work. There are places on this planet where
women must remain covered at all times, and places where traditional
coverings are being denied them. And, on a whole other level, in
several parts of the world, more than I wish to think about, rape is
used as a systematic weapon of war.  I believe that the best way for
me to be safe, and therefore follow the genetic and ethical imperative
to be able to take care of my child, is to take care of my own needs.
I need to be safe, in my neighborhood and in my community.  Everyone
deserves this safety.  Everyone.

It is through the sisterhood of the Amazon Priestess Tribe that I have
known safety.  I can see myself reflected in their eyes, these women
who look up to me, and look into me.  These women are made braver by
my presence, and I by theirs.  When I know myself to be one of them, I
know that I am not alone.  Any true need I may have, they will find a
way to meet it.  And I endeavor to show that I hold that same line for
them; while we may not all be best of friends, we are always
advocating for each other, and for all women to have the life of their
choosing.

And so, as the Amazon Priestess Tribe sets down the archetype of the
sacrificial warrior, I go with them into a New Time.  A new reality.
Of Blood, of Root, and of Honey.  The blood that has performed
miracles, both beautiful and grotesque. The root that connects me to
my mother and to her troubled family, the root that I use to make
spells that change my life and the lives of others. And the honey that
sweetens this life, that brings us back into our glorious selves when
nothing else can.  The honey that represents the work of hundreds of
sisters, bound by instinct and communicating only through movement.  I
take this new name with more pride than regret, more hope than fear. I
am joyful.