Monica Sjoo Passes Into the Arms of Goddess

This is the story of the passing of Monica Sjoo, pioneer feminist artist, author, and one of the founding mothers of the awakening of Goddess spirituality. Monica's last project before her passing was the contribution of her artwork to Leslene's book.

Two years ago, I came to visit Monica from California, where I live, to spend time with her following my attendance at the First World Congress on Matriarchies in Luxembourg. Since Monica could not go to the conference, I felt I could bring it to her. It was a wonderful time sharing with her the news about women (and a few men) gathering from around the world to talk about the truth about matriarchal culture. I felt I was bringing news of revolution/shevolution to her-a shevolution she has been part of for a very long time. She was in hospital then, dealing with bone cancer. I showed her digital photos of the conference on my laptop, talked and laughed with her, and did hands-on-healing with her. She told me how much she loved "having my strong hands placed on her body." I felt glad she could receive the healing energy. During that visit, Monica was able to come out of hospital and attend a healing ritual for her at a friend's house. Many of us placed our hands on her and tended to her like mothers and grandmothers. I always feel the ancient sisterhood when I can participate in ritual in sacred space, and felt so thankful that we could spend quality time like this together. I felt we were continuous in that circle with the matriarchal consciousness I had just experienced prior to coming to see her.

I have only recently returned from being with Monica again. This time was different. Monica was making her transition back to the Mother/Goddess, and she was at home, tended to by her son and friends. I had a specific purpose in coming to see Monica this time. I wanted to say thank you and good-bye to her. And I wanted her to see the final cover and manuscript of the book we had been working on together for several years, which turned out to be her final project. Monica's art graces both covers and the text, and her words in her introduction provide a portal for the reader to enter into the sacred realm of the Goddess. She had been asking me over the last two years when the book would be done, so I had a mission in bringing it to her. I feel that Midwifing Death, Returning to the Arms of the Ancient Mother, is a final tribute to her. Amazingly, the first printed copy of the book arrived at Monica's from the publisher on the morning of the day she died. It was the first time I saw the book in print. While she was not conscious, and so did not see it with her physical eyes, I felt the Goddess brought it to her in the way She felt was best for Monica. Her timing was extraordinary.

I arrived from a long journey from California on the Monday night before Lammas. Many friends along with her son, Toivo, gathered by her bedside that night to share a Lammas ritual with her. Although we knew Monica had been full of surprises, like going to Sweden when the doctors said she would die soon, we all knew this would probably be her last ritual. Her women's group created a beautiful altar of flowers and harvest fruits in the center of the room on the floor next to her bed and Marie France played her magical harp. I was particularly captured by her rendition of Pachabel's canon as her gliding fingers effortlessly coaxed the strings to surrender their tones. The music was riveting and sacred. Monica's good friend, Nancy, who generously housed me and cared for me while I was in Bristol, gently asked me if I wanted to offer something for the ritual. Nancy shared with me earlier that Monica said at a previous circle "I want to die, I want to fly." I remembered this as we all stood in circle holding hands. I felt that to really honor the energy in the room, the ritual needed to be very simple and needed to meet Monica where she was. She had decided only a day or two earlier to stop drinking and eating. She had clearly made her choice about what she was doing.

I have realized from my own priestessing experience for many years that one needs to be present enough to be able to read the energy that might arise in the space, as well as be flexible in the moment, and not attached to doing or having agendas about how things should be if there is a calling for something different that can only be felt in the moment. I feel rituals are created from the heart. I did my best to offer what I felt was needed for Monica-the creating of a sacred space in which people could offer blessings to her if they wanted to. It was a kind of harvest and sharing of the heart. One by one, we went to her bedside and said words from our hearts as we handed her a flower. Those of us in the circle held the space with gentle toning as people went to her. Monica received the flowers until she held a bouquet in her hands. When she felt she "had enough", as she put it, we made a collective prayer with those who did not have a chance to sit with her and sent loving energy to her. I felt we gave permission to Monica to let go, and that we were all witness to her process in leaving this world. We passed a cup of elixir to share communion. Marie France played Pachabel's canon once again, closing the circle. Monica said in a loud strong voice, "I want to die, I want to fly." It was certainly not a usual Lammas circle in how people are used to celebrating harvest and honoring the cross-quarter time between the Summer Solstice and Fall Equinox, as it was certainly quite unusual to have a beloved sister in the circle who was actively dying. So, it seemed to me the definition of harvest was more about the meaning of Monica's life and death, our willingness to share, and her willingness to receive.

It was my experience in the ensuing time I spent with Monica that our circle provided her with sacred permission to die, which is very important to give, if possible, because it lets the dying person know that it is okay for them to leave. It seemed that Monica's anxiety settled down after the circle and that she entered a more peaceful state. I had the opportunity to spend one-on-one time with her in which she spoke her truth in moments of lucidity, sharing some of her feelings. This gave me an opportunity to offer her some midwifing/coaching, much like a midwife does at a birth. I reminded her of the need to surrender and that death and birth are really the same. She gently closed her eyes and seemed to retreat into a deep well of being.

I left for a few days during Lammas to go to Cornwall. I wanted to go out on the land and pray at sacred sites. I was fortunate enough to get to re-connect with Cheryl Straffon, who I met ten years ago at a Goddess Gathering in California, and in seeing her again I felt a kindling of an instant connection with a long-lost sister. Cheryl was kind enough to take me to several places where I could be with the ancient Grandmother stones and Goddess. It is such an amazing experience to feel held by the landscape the ancestors/ansisters revered as the very body of the Mother, Herself. The luscious nurturing one can experience from this, if one is open, is beyond description. I felt Monica's presence everywhere. I also went to sacred wells and made prayers for Monica for safe travel on her journey. At the sacred well at Sancreed, I saw a Lammas poetry tribute hanging in the tree to Asphodel Long, who returned to Goddess several months before Lammas. I felt Monica was in good company!

As I returned to Bristol by train from Cornwall, I had a sense that Monica had made her transition. I held the space for her and learned from Nancy, who picked me up at the train station, that Monica had just passed two hours before I arrived. We went directly to her, and sat with her. I felt I concluded my Lammas ritual with her by sitting by her side and doing a prayer practice that is said to help the spirit of the departed. Feeling full of ancestral love and wisdom, I visualized a Great Mother Goddess in front of Monica's heart, imagining a sweet, golden, nurturing Heart Light stream forth from Goddess towards Monica, meeting the same Heart Light emanating from Monica's heart. I visualized all of Monica's karma purifying as her light met with the Mother's, the two becoming one, and Monica merging with Goddess. I did this over and over for quite a while. It is said in this practice that when we die, we are the child luminosity jumping into the lap of the Mother luminosity. May it be so.

I feel Monica was held by the winds of timelessness that will grant her wish to fly, and that she has returned to the arms of the Mother.

Merry meet, and merry part, and merry meet again.

Blessed Be.