“You see, witches were just women who knew how to heal themselves. They were burnt at the stake and drowned for wanting to bare an ankle, go without a husband, and masturbate rather than go see the local doctor for their ‘hysteria.’ ”
“One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul.” – Clarissa Pinkola-Estes
It’s happening again. Last night I couldn’t sleep, after a day of writing, trying to numb, and my body talking to me and trying to get my attention using pain as its messenger. I fell asleep, deep sleep that is, around 6am and woke up at 2pm, knowing I had to get up, I had writing to do. (who the fuck am i?) Got out of bed, straightened up, did a few chores and commenced writing again (I repeat who the fuck am I) Sitting on the chaise lounge chair my dad lugged up two flights of stairs, with music playing on my other laptop as I type on this one. A fan aimed at me from across the room, lots of sari material I have draped over everything sinuously dancing in the breeze, the front door is open… screen locked, it’s raining outside and it smells fabulous. The only break I’m taking from writing is to go get the power cord for this computer from the bedroom and if I am to be honest, I don’t want to stop writing long enough to get it, but necessity dictates.
I’m resonating with SO much, and on a constant basis. I go online to check my emails; gmail, aol, then SNHU, I receive newsletters and such, and skim them, yanno, just peruse to see if it’s something that necessitates or warrants a deeper look. So this is what happens, I start reading and I’m transported into a world of passionate acquiescence. OMG I exclaim to myself, YES YES, this is exactly what I’m feeling, this is my tribe (blink blink) these are my people. OMG are they going to be happy they found me. (laughs) and then oh shit, but I left that ‘practice’ behind, am I being called, what do I do, OMG. Then research the tribe, sometimes penning a note on how they impacted my soul. The whole day is dedicated to a sensory explosion due to the information I read and resonated with. I mean are they peeking in my window up here on the mountain???? WTF? ARE THERE THIS MANY PEOPLE GOING THROUGH SHIT LIKE THIS???? And that my luvs, is both a good and bad feeling. Damnit am I not special?? Oh. that means I’m not alone and many have made it through this shit. I let the information marinate inside, touch my soul where it needs to and try to ascertain how I’m to use the information.
This has been happening EVERYDAY. I cannot possibly join every tribe, group or coven, so it is my job to just soak up what applies to me, but DAMNIT it’s EXCITING. Can we say #informationOVERLOAD but it’s good shit…. Just not sure what to DO about all of it. I mean for example…
“You are not here to keep secrets.
You are not here to swallow stories and shove them down your throat.
You are not here to choose the color of your cage.
You are here to shake the very foundation that suffering is built upon.
And that is silence.
Speak, woman, speak.
Let the world explode if it may.
Then let them watch as you rise from the ashes.
You are loved.
You are stronger than you know yet”. — The Babe Collective
No I’m not fucking here to keep secrets. . Secrets perpetuate abuse, secrets RUIN children and families. I’ve kept fucking secrets for most of my life and let me share with you my tribe, it is the number one reason I was punished, and/or ostracized. #FUCKsecrets we are not meant to hold toxic shit inside, especially at young tender ages.
So, no I’m not meant to swallow stories and shove them down my throat.. I WILL NOT SHUT UP.. or BE QUIET. I’m here to make a RUCKUS!!!! Ha! I AM HERE TO SHAKE THE VERY FOUNDATION THAT SUFFERING IS BUILT UPON. Sighs (gotta sit with that one for a minute.) Pain is inevitable, SUFFERING IS OPTIONAL. We need NOT suffer, so why do so many SUFFER???? Because we’re taught to be the exact opposite of who we are innately and our spirit trapped in the cage (the one we are not here to choose the color of) is screaming for someone to notice and rescue it. We fragment into archetypes and we have the ability to heal that eventually but WE DON’T KNOW THAT for years. (I am in a telecourse right now learning about my archetypes and how to integrate them, POWERFUL SHIT)
‘Speak, woman, speak
Let the world explode if it may
Then let them watch as you rise from the ashes.’ (Babe Collective)
Wow. We have powerful things to say, experiences to contribute, nuggets of wisdom to love forward, so FUCK what they told you. DO NOT SHUT UP, DO not be quiet, open your mouth, speak, conjure magical transformations with words that only YOU can utter. OMG, EACH OF US MATTERS. How powerful is THAT????? What if it’s ….. true? What if each of us does matter, even the person sitting there thinking that their worthless. That’s a story, a lie you were told, it’s UP TO YOU whether you want to believe it or not.
I can never go back to the low resonating woman I was, to do that would be to truly face the death of my soul. So onward and upward into the unknown (fo shizzle) crazy shit… but the best expression of ME is through and at the other side of these experiences! Come join me, let’s strip the layers of bullshit off and shine like the fucking wild women and men we are!
Full article by The Babe Collective here ———-> The Babe Collective