The Earth Has Many Yonis by Anita Teresa 


Every now and then, the many folds of Lady Gaia’s tremendous inner body would quake and tremor, causing ripples of destruction across the outer surface land.  Humans and great beasts alike would fall into the resulting cracks.  Gaia would laugh.  If only they knew this was just a fraction of Her real power.  This was a simple once-and-a-while belly-trickle, an orgasm, not the gargantuan splitting open and eruption She was very capable of.  

More eons passed.  More humans were piling onto the planet.  Once and a while, a greatly curious soul with watchful peering eyes would venture into one of Her sacred chambers and light a fire.  She felt the heat higher up than She normally would (for Her great internal fire blazes hell-hot deep within).  Ah, so the humans have discovered fire.  And She knew things would change.  

Soon enough, the humans began using a great number of tools to gouge into the Earth, deeper and deeper all the time.  She felt a splitting unnatural to Her great deep soul…a cracking and piercing that was getting into Her bones.  She felt the life on Her top layer beginning to both swell and also succumb to wars.  The waters were poisoned.  She could hear the voices of many creatures silenced as they were rent asunder.  Even the minerals and deep plant roots in Her upper soils were crying with sadness, trying in vain to escape the great scourge being showered upon them.

She began to feel numerous tremors passing through Her lands; Her formerly velvet meadows razed to the ground with all sorts of weaponry; Her deep mysterious lairs now pried open forcefully, never with curiosity but an intense rapacious lust that seemed to have no end.    The raping became more and more severe.  Each time, it was a bigger blast, a more pernicious chopping, leading eventually to the leveling of entire mountain ranges in search of Her precious sanctum gems.  

Long gone were the days when a beloved might slip cautiously and reverently into one of Her crevices.  Now it was a nonstop barrage of miners, and the men who controlled them.  The hammering, blasting, digging, raping had no end.  It was a ceaseless tumult that rattled Her to the core.  

Lady Gaia, the Soul of Earth, began to retreat.  She began melting, ice-like, deeper and deeper into the planet’s middle, away from the prying fingers and tools of humans.  She began shutting down the indwelling of Her very presence from those previously sacred caves and holy places.  Now, they were husks, charred with blasts and speared with steel bar scaffolds in every imaginable private place.  Her Yoni closed up.  And said goodbye.  

This is not how you treat a Yoni—a sacred temple.  

From sacred temple, it had become a scarred shell.  A husk of what it once had been.  

All Her sacred places, one by one, began to shutter and close, each like a flower dying, wilting in silence.  

Only no one seemed to notice this was happening.  
They were too busy having their bustling civilizations above.  
Too busy trampling on everything that had once offered its body as a pledge of beauty to be drunken in solace, in secret, just as Lady Gaia’s furtive beloveds had once breathed the deftly caressing winds in silence, standing in the cleft of a rock, looking out over endless fertile valleys.   

Soon, the throng of humans on the surface began to grow restless.  Angry.  They felt displaced and unsettled.  Always looking for new territory to conquer.  

“It is not here, on Earth, that we will find “It,” so let us go to another planet and find “It.”  

“This Earth has been spoiled.  It is ugly.  Too many people.  Let’s plan to leave it eventually.”

And so they began making plans, furiously building new tools that would take them to the moon and the neighboring planets.  They spent themselves in hard labor, pushing their human servant-slaves to build, build, build.  Which in turn meant even more raping of Her upper lands.  

Meanwhile, deep below, rumbling with a blistering rage that no human would ever comprehend, Lady Gaia had been transformed.  Her wrathful embodiment, like nothing that had ever been witnessed, was about to be unleashed.  She did not wish it to be this way, but the incessant violations had taken their toll.  The Body of a Goddess will not bow to unceasing infliction: this is not what a Goddess is designed for.  A god, maybe, if it is for a purpose.  (But that is another story for another time).   

Tempering Her tremendous love with her splendiferous wrath, it had taken eons (really just a few days in Earth-time), to arrive at Her fullest fury.  And so, another great forming/re-forming was about to take place.  For the landscape had changed tremendously.  And the beings upon it.  And Lady Gaia longed for Her playmate beloveds to return, even if it meant full-scale destruction in order to once again…entreat them.  

This is the cost of exquisite Love.  

Epilogue Part I:

We wonder why we feel so displaced, so discontent, so dissatisfied. 

Would it be that way if we were drinking deeply from the primordial wisdom of Lady Gaia?  

If we were in a love tryst with the Earth herself?  

Would we need to leave the Earth to find “It”?

Our bizarre frustration comes from having despoiled the very source of our existence, and then, feeling huffy and petulant like a child, we make preparations to leave.  

Instead of cleaning up the terrific mess we’ve made, and making reparations for our collective crimes, we blame the Earth for not being beautiful enough, not being suitable enough, not being big enough for us.  

This is madness.  This is pure insanity of the highest order. 

It is exactly as if we collectively, psychotically had turned and raped our own mother, slapped her in the face, whipped her back, punched her in the guts and stabbed her in the belly. 

Then, feeling discontent, hungry, isolated, scared, alone, vaguely unsettled, confused and alienated, we turn and blame our mother for being dumb.  For being stupid.  For being weak.  For being suppliant and passive to our demands and abuses.  

But the Mother is none of these things.  

These are projections from a wounded mind.  A deeply deranged and sickened heart. 

Our lack of capacity for reverence is what brought us here.  

Our hardened hearts. 

Our willful greed. 

Our antipathy to Nature and all that is already in balance without our having to force a single thing.  

This is Fear of the Unknown and terror of the Uncontrollable Power that is the Dark, Deep, Fathomless Mystery.  

And it appears that only the severest destruction will wake us up from our collective psychosis.  

Epilogue Part II:

There is another way besides the wholesale catastrophic destruction that would happen should the large-scale raping of the Earth continue. 

That is if and when women collectively take charge, altering the course of humanity.  We cannot rely on social prophets or denizens of civilization to save us.  It is through conscious loving feminine leadership we will right this wrong, make amends for our crimes against the earth (and ourselves, most especially the Yoni-Heart), and avert total disaster.  

We must remember that if the human race were to perish, it would be a minor tragedy for the Earth, a major tragedy for us.   The human chapter on this planet is but a blip, a very short chapter out of a gigantic tome.  But the anthropocentric paradigm must give way to a whole-systems paradigm before we annihilate ourselves.