Greetings and love, by the way I started writing this yesterday – Earth Day it’s now called. I thought it was Hers everyday. Anyway, on that note…
On what’s called Earth Day when Mama Earth/Mother Nature comes into “mankind’s” fleeting focus in the midst of fights, I’m reading this book gifted on my earthday days ago while visiting the house of refuge of this Empress whose husband, The Emperor visited my island homeS in this window of time moons ago. Fairfield House in Bath, England is the home where royal couple H.I.M Haile Selassie I and Empress Menen Asfaw lived at one difficult point in time and it was eventually gifted by The Emperor to the Corporation of Bath for use by the elderly.
Getting acquainted with parts of her journey (through these pages)… patiently innerstanding the unspoken essence of her voice, interpreting messages through seeds and deeds…through the lens of a woman…
I stood and strolled quietly in her refuge home, prayer room, living room, hallway and garden…looked through the long royal bedroom windows at the watercolour view of green smudges in the distance…and rested this feather (now temporary bookmarker) for a few hours on her altar…now quiet revelations float in.
Time alignment
Today on what’s called Earth Day (3 days after my own earthday) i ponder on Mama Earth and the one called Mother of the Ethiopian Nation. So much has been declared yet much gone with the wind…or maybe the hands of time will usher wisps of the fullness in to the ears of those who tune in.
Do the days match in message since the calendars aren’t aligned? For me, right now they purposely shift time to deliver this message. An earth that gives so much yet stands up and fights back to reclaim what was always Hers and a choice to give yet many forgot, and a woman who stood for so much while actioning so many works spent so much time alone up those stairs in that little prayer room with the weathered pretty-patterned rug these feet strolled ever so softly on.
How was that journey for her, as a spirit being in a woman? And a soft, strong and often seemingly silent one. The works she puts in place would raise the volume in her stead I read. Yet, not once had even so much as a hushed whisper reached these ears about all she endured early on. Her focused works were on the formal education of girls and provisions and positions of power to be put in place for women – equality – equity coming into full colour more and more.
Balance exists universally and in reality; it’s people perception that tends to goes off kilter. And as this world is so abrasive and scripted, I pan right to prayer and set that right there.
A praying woman
What was the tempo of the prayers and petitions this woman who prayed throughout the day uttered in that room and the garden of her mind? The wooden chair with a deep bowl imprint on the cushioned seat says a lot and there’s a pedestal with a passage awaiting eyes to land upon it. How many time did tears fall there? How many breaths of thanks caressed and turned those pages? Only she knows, and rightfully so.
Hours of daily reading in silence was apparently mandated in the home for the little and large. Did offspring’s footsteps run throughout narrow trails winding within manicured gardens tucked between a few buildings that make up the estate? Who knows? It was tense times in those days and financial footing was not secure. What was the dynamic beyond the prestige?
Celebrations, love, wins, loss, grief, legacy, love of family, people and country. Royalty. An Emperor and His Empress of noble lineage, welcomed into another land while miles beyond the land they sprung from sung another song. It could not have been easy and I barely have heard a fraction of their journey so I walk quietly through their property and this post. So much has not been told.
As someone who is resistant to being force-fed anything from food and films to heroes, politicians and opinions, the calling has come to seek, read, be and learn more about royalty lineage and legacy from various lands and realms beyond.
I take my time – not anyone else’s…listening learning observing, seeing what no-one is saying and sharing mere fragments of revelations as respectfully to others as my constitution will allow (while respecting my right and will to think, observe, intuit and discern.) Having recently recovered from an interlude adapting a stubborn religious spirit, the most High and intuition take the lead again. I give thanks for the awakening with joy, confidence, fresh purpose and love in abundance.
A Book And A House
Halfway through the book now yet this, along with being in her sacred spaces stir up a deep pondering on Empress Menen’s essence and the depths of the thoughts she might have had and chosen to share with…a cherished sistren? A relative? One of her youths? A trusted handmaid? A few flowers in the garden? A tree? The most High? How could and how did a woman so royal in status and stature process all she witnessed and walked through having been handed so much from such a young earthly age. How does one prepare for what one does not know? It could only be anointing, warning and covering from on high.
The formal invitation to Fairfield House was to hear speakers who live and love like kin share on their travels to Jamaica, Ghana and Ethiopia and that was cozy, lovely, timely and power-filled. The aroma of cooked Jamaican food wafted around the walls of the house and plates of delicious offerings were placed into willing hands along with ginger-infused sorrel.
Upstairs, that delicate feather rested in that prayer room is now nestled on page 55 of this book edited and compiled by Anjahli Parnell named “The Biography Of Empress Menen Asfaw – The Mother Of The Ethiopian Nation.”
Book now next to keys these fingers levitate over – eyes float to the words in bold on the facing page… “Empress Menen in Jerusalem.”
To be continued…possibly in a post definitely in thought.
Peace out, peace in…and love abundantly.
Indra
And speaking of times aligning….
its Joy Within 