06/13/2025
Once, I did a shamanic journey to my ancient ancestors to seek understanding of the mother wound - a pain older than memory, rooted in the very beginning.
My helping spirits took me to a time before colonialism,before the split, at the dawn of humanity.
There, I was shown why my mother
could never be who I needed her to be.
Not out of cruelty, but because of a severing far greater than her.
They showed me how the feminine was broken,
how the settlers enforced separation
from land, from spirit, from each other.
But they also showed me something else: a memory of authentic joy, a way of life woven with connection to Earth, to kin, to soul.
For a few sacred moments, I was given a transmission of what it was like to live as them.
And it changed me forever.
My heart broke, just a little, not out of despair
but from the weight of what we’ve lost.
The wound of separation is ancient.
It began the moment we took more than we needed. The moment we forgot the Earth was alive, forgot our empathy, forgot how to live from the heart.
Now, the world rushes forward, numb to the soul’s whispers. We cannot reclaim what was
until we understand this loss and choose to live differently.
There is so much grief to catch up to. So much that was never witnessed.
During my shamanic training, I underwent many soul retrievals. Layer upon layer of forgotten transitions surfaced, unacknowledged, unseen.
We live in a world that tells us our inner life is irrelevant. But the soul rebels.
And that rebellion is sacred.
Perhaps when enough of us remember…
we will live once more as our ancestors did:
rooted, connected, whole.
I live and work in service to this vision, because I know it was given to me to fight for with courage and devotion. In honor of those who came before me. For love of those who are yet to be, that they may inherit a better world.
♥️🌿☀️
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