The Divine feminine featured strongly in my young life. My mom was a post-catholic exploring native lore and world religion.

That being said, the Temple was Holy, the Grounds were Sacred, I was a Retainer of the Goddess. I plowed the fields, held the faith, and tended the Earth.

There, in that place, I could be Male, and Proud. Because it meant you tended to the Goddess even as she Roasted or Froze you, Parched or Drenched you.

You were to suffer for Her, but you were granted her immortality too. You would be welcome in weather others would be driven from, home in the wild places, and one with the forest. Your strength was to be Praised, but only in service to Her. Your fortitude served the tribe, and was nothing without Softness.

I learned the secrets of the divine feminine. Learned how to Love, how to nurture, how to be Firm, how to be Caring. I learned the Masculine arts too, but they were things that didn't have currency in the outside world.

How to Work Hard. How to be strong but Kind. Silent durability. Running wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of mulch up the hill, every day. The secrets of Stonework, of Dirt, of the Plowshare.

The lore of John Barleycorn.