Hummingbird Speaks

By Marri Parkinson

Having been in practice as a psychotherapist through the period of the women’s movement and the birth of transpersonal psychology, I am well-versed in the issues, struggles, therapies, and ceremonies surrounding women and their empowerment. I am convinced that there is no hope for this planet unless women do claim their power, and from the place of strength learn to balance and harmonize with the males who share this home with us.

I spend a great deal of time in solitude with Mother Nature. My way is to ask the questions of her and be receptive to her answers. When invited to write an article for the Wolf Lodge issue on women, I spent much time in the woods and garden, seeking truths from the greatest female of all.

In all due respect to my brothers, the reality is that this is a feminine planet. Mother Earth. Mother Nature. As women, we are at home here, we are the representation of the planet and ideally serve as a lens for her power and beauty. Anything less than this, as women, is cheating ourselves of our birthright. Everything we need to know about being female is contained in nature; beauty, abundance, receptivity. Nature doesn’t fight; nature understands law. She is always in the process of balancing and rebalancing, never holding on.

Living on a pristine island in the throes of massive development, I watch Mother Nature move and sway. The foxgloves spring up in abundance along every new road. She doesn’t conquer—she uses the atmosphere to fulfill herself with whatever is there.

Working in my garden this spring, I attuned to the roses. In spite of severe winters, during which many bushes freeze and die, the rose does not say, “Why bloom?” Nature never withholds on the basis of what the future may bring.

Nature writes the laws for being a female. Recently, I stood at the base of an old-growth fir. I thought of our society’s emphasis on youth, of women spending money on facelifts, of female attitudes toward menopause, toward turning forty, or fifty, of men’s disparagement of older women. Do we look at the old growth fir and say, “She’s over the hill. Take a look at this sexy young sapling over there.” If a tree ages in grace and majesty, why doesn’t a woman? Until we see the truths of the feminine and live them, we cannot blame men for their attitudes.

We have a small but strong women’s circle at Wolf Lodge. Our youngest sister presented me with a most powerful learning on femininity this past year. Having entered the public school system after years of home schooling and being raised in alternative ways, she found herself suffering from ostracism and ridicule. On impulse, one spring evening, I drove to her cabin on the side of a mountain. She was home alone and clearly feeling the cruelty of her peers. With no need for words, we joined hands and walked in nature for healing and insight. As we climbed higher and higher on the mountain, we entered a profusion of wild columbines. Brilliantly red, these dainty flowers spring from the crevices of rocks, after winters of high winds, below freezing temperatures, and heavy snowfall. Untended, they grow through “poor conditions and hardship,” and bloom as the most vibrant and colorful flower on the mountain. My youngest sister gathered in all the columbines had to teach her and returned home with renewed determination to use the lesson of the columbines wisely.

Later that year, her mother held ceremony in a yurt of her making to honor her daughter’s new moontime. In a gathering of her elders and peers, this young female was initiated into her womanhood. Finally, in the winter, at a concert attended by most of our community, she was asked to sing. Rising in her blood red dress gifted her at her moontime, this young female sang from her soul to a packed chapel of people, many of whom might disparage her and her lifestyle. Unaccompanied by anything but the radiance of her femininity, this “odd duck,” this “unpopular girl” touched us all with her power and beauty. Afterwards, I watched the young males flock around her. When she returned to her seat next to me, I leaned toward her and whispered, “You are so beautiful.” She looked at me from deep within and answered, “I know.”

Marri Parkinson is a psychotherapist and successful entrepreneur, creating beauty with her gallery Gallery on the big Island of Hawaii. She is a lover of wild gardens and small wooden boats. She lives on Papaya and macadamia nuts, and might be found walking upon the molten lava - dancing upon the Mothers energy of rebirth. She is my sister and I love her. Robert Ghost Wolf