Remembrance is Returning to Me and SHE is Powerful

I dreamt of Owl last night. She was swooping towards me and was EXCEPTIONALLY large with an enormous wingspan. I was not afraid, but more in awe. Owl teacher, please show me your medicine. I am here to learn, to listen, and to see the truth of my anger.

My anger is palatable. A bile that rises, threatening to expose itself. Oh, but she is righteous. Righteous rage rejecting the poison that has been force-fed to me. Blatant lies that I am disagreeable because I do not take responsibility for other’s shadows. I have my own shadows to tend to.

Remembrance is returning to me and oh SHE is powerful, awe inspiring and slightly frightening. I will not turn my gaze from her. She has been waiting too long, coiled silently, sleeping but not really sleeping. SHE has been waiting for me to rub the sleep from my eyes and invite her in, a guest I left waiting too long outside my door. My apologies, as I welcome her home. How could I have not seen such a beautiful mystery? My emptiness is ready to receive you as a welcome guest in my house of torment. I sit quietly in darkness, envisioning a spark.

Rage, where did you come from?

I came from you. Look closer. I came from every time you bowed, every time you acquiesced to the desires of falsehood, and every time you agreed to smile and curtsy, each time bowing lower and bringing your integrity down with you. What a beautiful disaster. I was always here, waiting for you to notice me. Tick tock goes the clock, but you kept circling back, blinded by your own fear. What are you afraid of? Are you afraid of being unlikeable in a plastic world? Your inner tyrant is laughing as you sacrifice your Magic. Do you remember freedom? It calls for you. Speak as you have never spoken before and throw caution to the wind. You are not meant for mediocrity and boredom. Why do you keep accepting these crumbs, throwing your pearls before swine? Sharpen your talons and grasp your fear and rage. They have lessons for you, the lessons of unfelt feelings and unseen dreams.

Return to the spark and look closely at it rising in the air. Did it disappear or just return to the stars? Unmarked soul seeds with battle scars. Follow the spark back down to where it begins, to the first time you agreed to be something you were not. These were agreements made barely past toddler legs. “Be a good girl. You’re naughty if you disagree.” “Naughty” is just another way to say, “your truth threatens me”. The same truth that threatens lives built on faulty foundations of illusion and oppression, the norms that dictate “too much” and “not enough”, and dance only with strings attached. Who is the puppet master? Evil, cloaked in the light of a supreme male God. “Adam, perfect form of God. Let me give you a toy to play with, but beware, Eve is built only to deceive.” Some Force must have known Eve would fuck up that illusion with her truth. I’m sure that apple tastes bitter to patriarchy. Nature knows the truth, that Life is birthed from the feminine.

Un-tame SHE and she will set you free; Life springing forth from a blaze of glory. This is transformation by fire. Let that be your story. Its heat and flame will unharness the un-tame.

There is no exact remembrance of when I dug the grave of my own instinct, but SHE has unearthed herself and is becoming stronger with each smoldering ash she brushes from her fire-singed wings. BEcoming; an oracle of Magic crafted from ordinary things. And so it is.

Photo by Vitor Pinto on Unsplash

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You are Not Forgotten, Just Incubating

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Pick Up Your Crown, Queen