I gathered sticks from an ancient bridle path, one that many have walked through over the centuries. Her wool is from a sheep from the Scottish Isle of Colonsay, a shell from the Isle of Eigg, and some Rowan Berries picked by the River Leven, a fast-flowing river that leaves Loch Lomond, twisting and turning on its journey towards the mightly River Clyde.
‘Dolls serve as talismans. Talismans are reminders of what is left but not seen, what is so but is not immediately obvious. The talismanic numen of the doll is that it reminds us, tells us, and sees ahead for us. This intuitive function belongs to all women. It is a massive and fundamental receptivity – as in possessing immediate access to a profound wisdom that reaches to women’s very bones.’,
Clarissa Pinkola Estés – Women who run with the wolves
To be truthful, she didn’t speak to me. She was just a thing and I would have been quite happy for her to exist in the moment and be disassembled into her parts. And so she sat on a shelf.
As we began the descent into the deep of the year, and now at Samhain in the deep itself with my own personal journey into menopause mirrored in this great descent – she has begun to speak.
Her body and arms hold a symbol, I don’t know its meaning but I know it is one of change. I don’t know what will break down but I know things will. Somehow she sees ahead and knows what is coming. She holds the changes within her posture.
She and I will journey through the deep together, a midwife to the breaking down, the rebirth, and the transformation.