Concealed by the dark night thirteen women left the comfort of their beds, the security of their homes to venture into the storm. They walked unaided by light.
The wind wrapped an invisible arm around each waist--encouraging progress. He showered each of his partners with handfuls of leaves--transforming their nightgowns into party dresses. Other invincible hands pushed back branches; flattened grass--clearing the path. The women walked on.
Their footfalls were quick and sure through a world alive with the sound of a million pipers and the swaying, spinning and leaping of a million dancers.
Wordlessly they walked on until they reached a natural clearing in the woods. Here they instinctively formed a circle. They stood--arms out stretched, palms facing but not touching.
Though the storm continued to rage around them, those in the circle were untouched. No hair was tousled, no gown rippled. They were still.
"Oh, Mother Gaia, we feel your power," someone cried. Those who recognized the voice weren't surprised that it belonged to Holly McIntosh--owner of the Croaking Frog Clothing Boutique. Intelligent, gregarious, charismatic--she was a natural leader.
"Mother Gaia, we feel your power," a younger voice chirped in imitation. That voice belonged to Rome--Holly's niece.
Other voices joined in the chant and the volume rose from a merely audible whisper to a roar that overtook the storm.
Mother Gaia heard and responded. A white lightning bolt leapt from palm to palm. The women fell back but not down--Mother Gaia held them. She picked them up and held them in a 45-degree angle in mid air. The women closed their eyes and rested in their Mother's hand. As they rested they dreamed--of creation, of transformation, of harmony, of peace, of beauty, of love.
Mother Gaia whispered in each woman's ear, "Tell me, my child, of what do you dream?"
And the women shared their dreams.