The old man laughed and clapped and stomped to the time of the music. Women dressed in brilliant colors, men dressed in every shade of green, both twirling around in a huge circle of bright energy, enclosed a woman. Her hair was up in twists and coils and braids and knots, and her dress flowed gracefully, pieces of fabric connected to her wrists to be lifted when her arms lifted. Her skirt was sectioned by horizontal slashes, and she spoke of the origin of the warmth that they were all celebrating.

“We dance here now as we danced here then, excited by the birth of the Goddess. She was dead, and then alive, the creator of all that we see. The grasses we plant to make our bread were made by her with her love. The stars in the sky that light our way in the night are hers. But once the Great died, leaving us her children, leaving the world we live in, leaving all its creatures, leaving everything cold and dying. Death by her son, her own wish, to relieve her tired body. All believed hope was gone, and none thought to see her again.

“Without the Goddess to create new life, nothing was replacing the dying. The world grew cold and the land froze, killing all the Mother’s children. But one day the raging bull came through; he came bucking, and he came scratching, and he came with his horns lower’d. A man shot him, and buried him in the snow for keeping.”

The priestess grew quiet and the music stopped. The crowd fell silent too as all listened for the sounds of new life that would mark the change from winter to spring. A sound was heard in the distance; a small sound, hardly audible, but growing louder as it approached. Suddenly, the sky was filled with a dark cloud, a thriving hum vibrating from it. The cloud lit on the many fresh flowers that surrounded the circle of women and men. Exclaiming in excitement, the priestess began thrashing around in a frantic dance, the material on her wrists like the wings of the bees.

“Now, now, now, now. The bees have come again. The Goddess fills me, as she comes again. From that bull, the Goddess came again. The buried bull, she came again. As the man walked away, the Goddess came again. That buzzing sound we heard today, yes, she came again. Bursting from that dead bull’s body, she came again. The world thawed away its ice because the Goddess came again. Now, now, now, now, she comes again. We dance now as we did then, the Goddess comes again.” Over and over, on and on, the woman danced in the middle of the circle and sang praises to the rebirth of the Great Goddess. The spring was here, and though death had come, life would continue evermore.