The great work of our time is to bring the feminine into this culture. And it is not an easy path. How does each one of us contribute? Believe it or not, it’s done in the most personal ways. Take time to listen to your dreams. Write them down. Take time to recognise that there are things going on within you that need to be felt, or said, or lived, or grieved. Pay attention to these things both in yourself and in the people in your life. Pay attention to the authentic self.
“She never smoothed her wild edges. She never stopped writing new chapters. She fell. She rose. She danced. She unraveled. She let go. She evolved. She was a tangled mess. She was strong. She was fierce. She was brave. She was a badass. The ocean was her therapy. Grace was her religion. She lived like there was a fire in her veins. e. Forgiveness was her freedom. She lived like there would never be enough time. She lived like there was fire in her veins. She lived.”
The arts of women have been called the dark arts for too long, and they are the keys to infinity. Infinite form. Infinite being. Infinite life. The art of far sight. The art of inner knowing. The art of sign-reading. The art of deep feeling. The art of song and circles. The art of intuition. The art of frequency translation. The healing arts. The art of kitchen witchery. The art of communion. The art of sacred story weaving. The art of creation and manifestation. And others too wild to name.
when they want to control you they do not come with shackles made of iron they come instead with cages made of shame and story like the one about the woman who earned crisis for her curiosity so tempted by a life of wisdom and independence she caused the downfall of all civilization
women are dangerous says the shame story of Eve they cannot be trusted and should not trust themselves
give a woman free choice and she’ll eat the fruit tempt the man enrage the god she’ll destroy us all with her mad desire to know to discover to understand her self her world her maker give a woman any freedom and she’ll follow her curiosity shape her own story seek truth beyond the dictates of order and obedience
she will wreck your carefully controlled mandates your reign of tightness she will unmake your holy wars of right and wrong and infuse the realm with choice and instinct empathy outranking rules creativity eclipsing war sovereignty subsuming blind servitude
when you want to know like Eve when you have a taste for truth and a hunger for wisdom you have to question the stories test the facts rattle the cage who profits from you believing a lie? who benefits because you believe you are both cause and curse?
they have tried to burn you with their shame strip you violate you shrink you silence you but they could not break your phoenix spirit its fierce heat will melt old regimes and enflame a generation who will not settle for smallness for submission for shame
sink your self into the feathered red sleeve of your ancestors and rise, woman rise again for you are Persephone’s Daughter Lilith’s lover Eve’s heir
find the truth eat the fruit unmask the myth let it burn
Why do we spend all of our precious soft? trying to be hard talking like we’re hard dressing like we’re hard pretending to be hard moving like we’re hard acting like we’re hard writing like we’re hard living like we’re hard
until we wake up one morning stone cold hard and we’d give anything everything to feel a little bit of soft
The Wild will call you back. Through half-remembered dreams and sunsets painted in burnt sienna and vermillion flames she will call you back home. The coyotes will wake you from your sleep with their clarion call to keep your eyes wide open.
How long have you been sleeping? How much have you forgotten?
The Wild will call you back. She will hang you upside down and shake the nonsense from the pockets of your mind. She will strip your soul naked leaving you raw and exposed under the searing glare of the gods. Offer up the holiness of your confusion and questions. Dress yourself in fireflies and attune your senses to awe while you learn the slow seduction of courting your muse.
Brush the stardust from your wings and wipe the ocean from your eyes. Flex your claws dig your roots deep down into the fertile earth and show your fangs. Gather pollen on your legs and speak in venom and honey. Peel back your colonized tongue and let it hiss and purr and growl and scream.
Do you remember how to stalk as predator and how to surrender as prey?
The Wild will call you back. The owls know your real name and will call you from the darkness of night to dance under the moon. Crack your heart open with your ancestors’ bones and dance in the ecstasy of your love and your grief with flailing limbs bloody knees and mud-stained feet. Braid mugwort into your hair and dream yourself awake.
The Wild will call you back. She will teach you how to die again and again and how to die well. There is no difference between your funeral pyre and your birth canal. Do not bother to try and stop the bleeding. Love with the gentleness and ferocity of your whole soft tender being. Feed the spirits with your beauty and sweetness and ask them to show you the way home. ⠀ ~Gina Puorro www.ginapuorro.com
