Beltane is the season of love and lushness, of sensuality, beauty and sacred union. The earth stretches open with delight- green, blooming and humming with life. We find ourselves firmly in Taurus season, where embodiment takes center stage and pleasure becomes a spiritual act.
At this time of year, I honour Arnametia, She of the Sacred Groves and the Sacred Waters, Goddess of fertility, healing, water and the liminal spaces between bloom and root.
(If you wish to meet Arnametia more intimately, you can read more about Her here.)
This week also held the Full Flower Moon in Scorpio, a moon of depth, shadow and emotional alchemy. I’m always drawn inward beneath this full moon, as it was under her gaze that my waters broke five years ago, and I stepped into the sacred rite of motherhood. The memory lives in my bones, in the very depths of me.
And so, beneath this year’s Scorpio full moon, I found myself wondering:
What lies in the depths of Arnametia’s waters?
Scorpio is not a surface-dweller. It pulls us under, into the subterranean rivers of the self, into mystery and metamorphis. I was born under this sign, and I feel its pull intimately. Held safely in the warmth of Beltane season, I returned to the same grove I went to last year. In the hush of that grove- a living altar of trees and birdsong- I reconnected with Arnametia. She came to me, though not as before.
Last year, she arrived with gentleness, guiding me through the softening of my edges and teaching me inner balance. This year, her medicine is deeper, richer- like the soil beneath my feet as I walked.
She offered not a babbling brook, but a churning riverbed; her waters dark and restless, stirring sediment and memory alike.
A sacred dredging of the very depths of me.
It wasn’t a punishment; it was a process.
What arose in me wasn’t just memory, it was emotion. Old hurts, long silenced. Needs I’d dismissed. Feelings I’d been taught were ‘too much’ or ‘not appropriate’ or ‘silly’. Emotions I thought I’d dealt with but had simply masked over. The message was very clear: water, like emotion, must move. When it doesn’t it stagnates.
Arnametia stood beside me as I peered into these waters. She held a mirror to their surface and I saw myself-reflected in the swirling depths, whole and unhidden.
Over the days that followed, I let the process unfold gently. I sat outside with my journal and allowed my thoughts to flow freely, allowing emotions to flow freely. I remembered. I drank herbal tea and wandered through my garden, letting my senses guide me to petal, scent, soil. I let the suppressed parts of me rise and ripple, giving them permission to be witnessed.
And in doing so, I began to heal.
This is Arnametia’s deeper gift.
She’s not just the guardian of the sacred groves and waters.
She’s the keeper of what’s buried beneath. In the churning waters and the damp soil.
She’s the midwife of the emotions long held back.
She bears witness to it all.
She reminds us that what blossoms above the surface is always rooted in the dark. That all true healing begins when we are willing to feel. Sensuality dances around us during Beltane season, but not everything we feel will bring delight. And yet- all of it is sacred. That’s the divine union we seek and it must honour all layers of being: shadow and light, wound and wonder.
So I invite you to sit by the sacred waters, or sit within Her sacred grove and listen to your own inner waters. See what must be moved, see what needs to be stirred. Trust that Arnametia will meet you there.