We have walked the earth for 12,000 years now. The Mother Goddess is without doubt the most stable employer on earth. Our clothing, hair, and jewellery have changed, yet we remain somehow recognizable, somehow the same.
The Mother Goddess arrived in Rome as the State Cult roughly 500 years after the founding of Rome, but was honoured there by those claiming Trojan ancestry earlier, and endured for 600 years before Her worship was driven into hiding, partly as the Marian devotions of Catholicism, partly into the traditions of women's societies according to some authors.
Twenty seven hundred and fifty years since the founding of Rome, Her worship has returned to the openness of ages past though not without resistance. Torches are lit, priestesses once again pass through portals to Temple sites. Frame drums are played. The ancient rhythm of our sisters flows out into the night. Those who honour her eat again bread from the tympanum and drink from the cymbal. Sistrums add their jingle to the sounds of the voices and drums expressing love for the Great Mother. Women dance by moonlight with the joy brought by the spiritual touch of the Goddess.
We seek our Goddess out of love, not out
of fear. We return her limitless love in the capacity that humans can.
We marvel at and treasure Her creation, press for it's preservation and
careful use instead of it's conquest and exploitation, an intelligent co-existence
with nature rather than a reckless looting of the treasures of the earth.
We revel in being women and an expression of the creative energies of the
The Rule of the Women of Cybele
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