10 Reasons why you should attend 'Day of the Goddess 2011'

Workshops Presentations

Inspirational Speaker Network & Bonding

Empowerment & Upliftment Delicious food

Singers Arts & Craft

Poets Raffle

Day of the Goddess 2010

‘Deep Womb Uprising’

...dedicated to the loving

memory of Cynthia

)0( Day of the Goddess 21st March 2010

After months and months of planning I awoke on a beautiful sunny morning the day

had finally arrived the 21st of March was finally here !

A multitude of Goddesses desended on the Unity centre in Brent, all excited, profiling

within their Goddess status, bodies drapped in fine robes. Yes Day of the Goddess was

Truly here within all it’s radiant glory.

The setting was perfect, the market stalls dripping with creativity, the back drop for the

stage was like a drapped throne.

The day kicked off with a massive drum call & workshop from Aamasade ‘MotherShip

Co-Creator’, she rallied up the ladies who let out celebratory screams of delight.

Performances by PoppySeed, Lyrical Healer & Floetic Lara followed. while we deep belly

laughed hard to the delights of Kat Francois comedy.

The workshops by Eureka, Roweena and Ebele, both informative and enlightening, they

had us opening up to them and digging as deep as we could in order to share with each

other our experiences our stories and most importanly our hearts.

The raffle prizes contributed by all market stall holders were well recieved by the winners

It’s all about the special art of giving and recieving. We sat and ate delicious food together,

drank herbal teas and rum punch together, it was a special day.

We closed our day which was now night with the amazing Sister Doctor Sandra Richards

She had us on our feet gyrating our hips to massage our internal organs and stimulate our

Sacral Chakra.

We Sang and Celebrated, Loved & Let Go, Praised & Exhaulted ourselves

Our Goddesses within

‘ Photo’s from Day of the Goddess

21st March 2010

Below’

OYA

The Yoruban goddess Oya (Orisha) is the patroness to strong women everywhere. Being the Orisha of whirlwinds, the marketplace, graveyards and the Niger river, Oya personifies strength and the ability to clear all obstacles in her path. Oya's independence and tenacity to speak her mind served her as she fought side by side with her husband Shango.

She is the protector of women in the Marketplace and is renowned for her beauty. This goddess represents Tornadoes, the Machete, black horsetail fly-whisk, eggplants and the number 9, which are all sacred to goddess Oya.

Oya is the powerful Yoruba Goddess of the Winds of Change; the Primeval Mother of Chaos; Queen of the Nine (for the nine tributaries of the Niger River). Using her machete, or sword of truth, she cuts through stagnation and clears the way for new growth. She does what needs to be done.

She is the wild woman, the force of change; lightning, fire, tornadoes, earthquakes and storms of all kinds are ruled by Oya. She is also Queen of the Marketplace, a shrewd businesswoman and adept with horses. As the wind, she is the first breath and the last, the one who carries the spirits of the dead to the other world, which is why she is associated with cemeteries.

Oya-Yansa is the Queen of the Winds of change. She is feared by many people because She brings about sudden structural change in people and things. Oya does not just rearrange the furniture int he house -- She knocks the building to the ground and blows away the floor tiles.

She is the cyclone and the earthquake. Oya fans Her skirts and blows the branches from the trees; should She choose to cry, torrential rains fall on the earth.

She is the Mother of Mind. She can impart genius, restore memory, or slap you with insanity.

Oya opens Her mouth, flicks out Her tongue, and lightning strikes. She has nine heads; She is the River Niger.

No one can be certain of Oya's movement; no one can capture Her smile. She is the mistress of disguises. yesterday Oya was a gentle lamb; today, a buffalo trampling the earth beneath Her feet. Tomorrow She'll be a rainbow -- maybe.

To seek adequate words with which to trace her elemental patterns is an act of homage to the goddess of tropical weathers in hopes that her compassion may reciprocally illuminate inner equivalents with which we have struggled in private darkness. It has been a struggle intensified by patriarchal discountenance of powerful emotion -- its problematic relegated to women "in need of help," as the saying goes.

In being choaked by compliant mothers to stifle rather than outride our storms, to dam and conceal our floods, to bank our fires and give tinder over to future husbands, the Oya in ourselves froze in its tracks. Yet such ice particles, negatively charged at the heart of mounting storm are the mysterious, generative sources of Oya's lightning.

Thus, in other way obstructed, Oya strikes us -- quirking here, cramping there. Soon with our brains, the indefatigable goddess goes jaggedly to work upon our bodies, cutting off circulation, opening sluices, instilling victims who could be votaries with a variety of "female complains," catching them up in mindless swirls of activity, throwing them down into incapacitating vortices, playing havoc with appetite.

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