I try to reflect on the life that I have been living, and no matter how hard I beat the drum I keep coming back to this one place. This place that was home. This place that is Mother. And I'm on the ground, looking up at the sky, scratching my head and wondering how this daughter was born, from what genetic material was my life made, when I look at the women who share my line. Did I come from the whispered or silent prayers in dark corners when no one was listening or watching of the ones that came before me. "Please tell me, one will come forth with the courage to break this cycle. Make her strong, strong enough to hold, and please God, support her voice and her vision."
How do I even begin to describe the strange magic that leads my life? The synchronistic events, the dreaming, the visioning, the way I pose a question to the universe and if I just open the answer always comes. How hard it's been to travel into the depth of these ancient ways of woman and life and try to translate those experiences into a modern world that has nearly all but forgotten. How does one clearly articulate the violence of the times? How to translate the spiritual, emotional, psychological and physical effects of that violence? How does one look back through thousands of years of tortured history thinking she has the power to create some sort of semblance of wholeness from a torn and tattered tapestry. Stories bleeding out from my bone. Generations of trauma coming up now to be released, from my marrow. Living calcified in the bones of my mothers. Women's stories, burned from history's pages, but lying deep, and some still dormant in the black earth belly of this great mother. I've always said you can erase the truth from history, but you cannot erase the truth from the earth. She holds it all, everything that has ever happened upon her. But who looks at a stone and sees a library? --I do.
I've resolved that to deny shamanic reality is to further the continued denial of woman's power. When we bleed, we are in trance. Defining trance as direct communication with spirit. When we birth, we are in trance. When we are making our babies we are co creating with Spirit to bring forth this new life, and we need that space to communicate to these realms. Modern society disconnects us from this realm of the sacred from which we create, so life that would be birthing or born or made within these parameters --our creation is being disrupted, you see --and do I need any sort of explanation to describe to you the degeneration of our times? No, what I am doing is providing you with the remedy. When the women plug back into the natural pulses and rhythms of life through the reconstruction of the moonlodge within society --our whole world will turn from this place --the place of humanity's birth --the womb. I've completely transformed my relationship with my blood and my body, and within that my entire relationship with life. I should not even begin to try to describe what that was like in this one post, I may even have to break it down into very small pieces. I joke about being a 27 year old grandmother --while I can experience immense gratitude for the teachings I was able to reclaim and the space I am able to hold because of that, I have not been able to sink fully into anything joyful, I'm having trouble even being proud of the work and the journey I have undertaken --I just keep mourning the loss, and its so devastating. I can feel through thousands of generations of still unhealed women. I walk the streets and I see the devastation. Women who have never used the words power and blood in the same sentence. Wombs are speaking all the time, whether we have an ear to hear or not. Most of them, just do not know, they just don't know.
But still I have faith, so I am operating on "Those who have ears to hear will listen", and I am going to keep speaking, because I know people are watching and I know without doubt that the work I do is shifting something --its creating change. Even if I can't quite see it. Women come up to me on the street, in the grocery store, or wherever I happen to run into them and they say "thank you, for what you post on facebook." and they always lean in and whisper --like someone or something might be listening that they do not want to hear, I hate to tell them that they are right. I'll never forget the night I am standing outside a local tavern with a few friends and this woman runs up to me --I've never met this woman in my life, I know --it's so rare for me to forget faces. She runs up to me like we are old friends and embraces me, calls me by my full name. I'm standing there feeling awkward, apologizing ..."I'm sorry, but I don't remember you." She is like "oh no, we never met, but my friends know you --you do the work with the sacred feminine, thank you. Thank you for doing that work, I have great respect for you." Let me tell you, it's been women and rare occasions like that, that have kept me going, because most days it's just really hard. I'm going to have to go really slow in opening up this door and speaking. It's really just been frustrating, and a bit traumatizing. Is it jealousy that drives other women to viciously attack other women? If women are so good at tearing other women down, imagine how good we will be at holding each other together. Lifting each other up. I will endure. For over four years I have been attempting to raise a woman's temple in the lehigh valley --and for about 6 months I succeeded, a couple women came through the door, but I could not find one other woman who could commit to helping me hold the space, and without support I couldn't hold the space alone, so I fell, and I fell hard. But I will tell you that within the last year I have formed the very first relationship I have ever trusted in my life and it has been with the ground. When I need to fall down, the ground is always there. It never goes anywhere. When I need it, it always shows up. It's been like making peace with the ground of my own being, and its been hard but good work. Maybe it's that I have just become so accustomed to living my days with this low throbbing pulse at the base of my spine and the feeling of my hips feeling like they are going to unravel and fall apart from the lack of support, or genuine expressions of care that I have been receiving in my life. It led me back to the earth in a way I never would have discovered had I not had to walk through this. I came to a point where I sat with my ancestors and I said if you want me to continue to do this work, I need you to support me fully, so they led me in these ceremonies a few months back where I began "singing my bones awake" ---clearing out the debris, so that the spirits of my elders could infuse into my being and help me hold myself up.
Who knows when I wrote this ...well over a year ago at least, and this is where I was then. Wow. Good Good work. Words recovered on 5/22/2014 with only slight editing.
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