Your gifts are seated in the soul.
This aspect of you will never fly away from you.
She waits, she listens, she calls, she is the light that burrows through our darkest moments.
She sits with us in the corner, on the edge, in the dark, and says, ‘I’m here. I’ve got your back. I’m not going anywhere.’
When I was nineteen, I had an opportunity to leave my hometown and go to University. I was the first in my family of eight to pursue higher education.
I signed up for education but really, I was in the pursuit of sanity. Would this be revealed through academia? My pockets of hope ran dry. I had no idea what course to follow.
Luckily, It did not take long for my college roommate to observe that something was not quite right in my peculiar behavior. Early one morning she shook me from a drunken slumber, “…what you are doing will kill you. I know someone who can help you.”
Thank God, finally, someone noticed and cared enough to intervene.
Lisa insisted that I take the bus to Manhattan, NY to have a reading with an Oracle named RW. I was to bring my most important questions about ‘soul purpose.’ I anxiously made my way by bus to Grand Central Station. With absolute uncertainty about soul purpose yet desperate enough to find out if I had one, I trudged on.
I was greeted by a middle-aged woman with long golden hair at the door of a four-story Brownstone.
Linda was the vehicle through which RW channeled. I had one hour to receive directions about life.
RW: What is your first question?
Me: Please tell me about my soul purpose.
RW spoke back to be like Oz from behind the curtain. “Soul purpose is far from consciousness.” Not surprised. I swallowed and thought, now what?
Then RW launched into a recitation of the details of my prior life with spooky accuracy. I felt naked, imagining that my entire life is recorded in something called soul. RW continued “prior lives have prepared you for this one. There is great work that needs to be done to bring soul purpose to consciousness. Soon I realized my mouth was ajar. I was drooling.
I was told that like a sponge, as a child I absorbed deceptions, denials, and wounds from the collective psychic of women. That I’ve been entrained to adopt a collective lens of perception that imprints patriarchal messages and codes of behavior that rank figures of patriarchy as the ‘Godheads’ superior to all other life forms. I am told, my work is to undo these unconscious attachments and discover the true source of love and life. RW did not tell me how to do this, only that separation is a social construct and Eunice will be my guide. “Your soul is preparing you for this.
Others will join in this important work, including your children.” Wow. That knocked me out of my chair.
All at once, I was overwhelmed and relieved. I comprehend little of what was said. I can’t imagine having children. And I sense an undeniable course correction is underway. A seed is planted. I soon discover that waking from an unconscious slumber layered with deception is not easy. Little could I know the initiations, trials, ordeals, and learnings I would encounter. Or how real my journey becomes when I am initiated into motherhood.
It is one thing to paddle upstream through a patriarchal torrent of 2,000 years to shed layers of oppression that have held us captive to lies and are susceptible to muting, chaining, cutting, and burning. It is quite another when lives that are most precious to us are at stake. In my case, the unnecessary intervention of a patriarchal medical system that places control and revenue over care and connection to our bodies. A system where birth and death are often induced before it is time, or in a way that does not honor the soul—the value and gifts of that being. A system that urgently requires the unshakable soul of the mother to protect and care for what is most vulnerable and precious for life to continue living.
In my upcoming book, the stories that I tell came into my life as medicine to help me find something I thought was missing and to bring it back. Stories are never singular in nature. The main characters in these stories reveal our most powerful and secret weapon for preserving and protecting our most precious and vulnerable moments in life. My children highlight the imperative of detoxing patriarchal imprints, healing the wounded feminine in all bodies, and transmuting old stories to regenerate a wild soul life. They show the necessity of reclaiming our cyclical nature, so we can mature as sovereign beings and be the heroines of a new story. A story born out of love.
A love that has no name, no clothing. A role for me that feels to be one of BECOMING A DANGEROUS OLD WOMAN — a wise woman that stands in her danger as a protectress of all that is precious in life to continue and not come or go before its time, or in a way that does not honor the soul, the value and gifts of that being.
All is never lost. Through the lived experience within my family, it is as if a roaring howl from the center of life is made audible, ‘Enough is enough.” It’s time to induce a reclamation of the soul of our great mother.
A story is ‘holy,’ and it is used as medicine, as Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés said,
“The story is not told to lift you up, to make you feel better,
or to entertain you, although all those things can be true.
The story is meant to take the spirit into a descent to find something that is lost
or missing and to bring it back to consciousness again.”
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