by divine-design


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Wake Up…there is no end….

“The feral woman is a woman making her way back.

She is learning to wake up, pay attention, stop being naive, uninformed.

She takes life into her own hands.

To re-learn the deep feminine instincts, it is vital to see how they were decommissioned to begin with.” 

~ Clarissa Pinkola Estes

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DAY: crisp, unsettled

WORD: proceeding

COLOUR: orange

FEELING: of the earth and the stars….

BODY: light, ungrounded, heady

THE COLLECTIVE: seeking, adjusting, waiting

INSIGHTS: Mother Earth and your body/minds, and merely a continuum of the evolution of life on Earth…there is no end…. this process is but another phase of the upliftment of humankind and the planet. It is an earthly process.

The Return 

Some day, if you are lucky,

You’ll return from a thunderous journey

trailing snake scales, wing fragments

and the musk of Earth and Moon. 

Eyes will examine you for signs

of damage, or change

and you too will wonder

if your skin shows traces 

of fur, or leaves,

if thrushes have built a nest

of your hair, if Andromeda

burns from your eyes. 

Do not be surprised by prickly questions

from those who barely inhabit

their own fleeting lives, who barely taste

their own possibility, who barely dream. 

If your hands are empty, treasureless,

if your toes have not grown claws

if your obedient voice has not

become a wild cry, a howl, 

you will reassure them. We warned you,

they might declare, there is nothing else,

no point, no meaning, no mystery at all,

just this frantic waiting to die. 

And yet, they tremble, mute,

afraid you’ve returned without sweet

elixir for unspeakable thirst, without

a fluent dance or holy language 

to teach them, without a compass

bearing to a forgotten border where

no one crosses without weeping

for the terrible beauty of galaxies 

and granite and bone. They tremble,

hoping your lips hold a secret,

that the song your body now sings

will redeem them, yet they fear 

your secret is dangerous, shattering,

and once it flies from your astonished

mouth, they, like you, must disintegrate

before unfolding tremulous wings.  

 Geneen Marie Haugen

Art Charles Frizzel