I have told this story to a few men when I sensed a need to receive the transmission. It is much better told in person, our bodies speak languages we can never name.
It was one year after the totality eclipse in 2017 that instigated my move from Seattle to Port Townsend. I performed a ceremony in honor of the moon and the land that had called me forth. It was a combination of altar work, prayer, yoni steaming, trance and silence. The altar was placed outside of my cottage under a cedar tree. I left a candle burning over night.
The next morning I went out to close the ceremony and say my blessings over the altar before cleaning up. As I knelt down I felt a sharp pain in the back of my right shoulder. My right shoulder had fully torn in the year prior during the eclipse which preempted the collapse of my business and my move from the city. (the shoulder was a large metaphor for an underlying illness)
I took a deep breath into the pain and spontaneously slipped into a vision of myself at the edge of a sacred well. I was dressed in crimson and tending the waters in praise when a dagger hit me in the back. I fell to my death. A wild cry of grief rose from me as I saw in the water the reflection of my beloved, my husband, a man who the day before was loving and praising life beside me. I did not grieve for me.
The pain I felt before my death was from what I felt in the heart of my love- a blackness, a lostness that manipulated the very beat of his heart to destroy that which he was born to praise, protect, be fed by, born from and born back into. His warrior song gone. His sacred hunt disappeared from the lands and the people and animals began to starve.
I saw a long dark night befall the people. A terror rose in my soul mixed with an inviolable compassion that I knew would be felt by those brave enough to remember, at a time when it was “safe” to remember, how to return to the Well and drink the waters in praise together again. I secured it somewhere for a future me to share, the Womb.
~My brothers. So many of you have come forth to share the depths of your hearts as you wobbled in that old fear of being seen as weak and powerless.
The warrior has been confused in you, the hero manipulated to serve false Gods. You have been told that you have to take in order to bed fed, rather than receive for showing up knowing how to wield a sword in true righteousness.
One of the most devastating societal narratives is that the patriarchal wound is men’s fault. It is true that men have been at the helm of our collective devastations. That is hard to grapple with as a woman when the wounds in my body were inflicted by men. But how did that happen? What was so seething with jealousy, so parasitic that it wove a white hot scream of fear and dread into mens hearts if they did not abide?
What is that force that can manipulate men into watching their wives and daughters burn as they stood powerless? What is it that can be manipulated in the collective psyche to produce such chaos?
We are primordially wired for devotion. There is not one place in the history of all peoples, from all epochs, where devotion and worship to some greater power does not exist. When this is manipulated, as it is inborn, nefarious systems of control can take root and we have a long standing God problem.
There is a reason recruiting for war is so easy for the dominator complex. This complex knows that the heroic heart of service is intrinsic in men. So, if it can imposter a pathway to heroism and devotion, it can manipulate that primordial pull in men and draw them in because it feeds on an inescapable drive.
This is done by trying to destroy the innate, intuitive pathways of belonging. It is done by suppressing the feminine body as the feminine body holds the blueprints of animism, unity consciousness, balance and right relationship. Wounding the feminine body wounds all bodies which is why our collective healing is through the healing of the feminine body.
Serving the feminine nature enlivens all of life. This does not mean bow down to women. Women must be in service to the same or we just have another hierarchy. It is through the woman’s body that all worlds can be known, the womb knows your sacred path. But she must be able to let go into God first and know her own true nature to fully surrender to your staff and bring the two of you into the light. When two people can stand inside a greater landscape of awareness and do this together, blame dissolves into compassion.
We are meant to love one another, celebrate life together and support each other’s divine nature and connection to Source. When we are each individually connected to our Source, we can again live into our true nature and celebrate that with one another. I will say it again- we are meant to love, cherish, support, desire, and have sacred need for one another. We can help each other remember this together.
Men, I desire to run my fingers through your disheveled hair after a long night in the wild, to nuzzle my nose into that one spot in the center of your chest that cradles the scent of your longing, to lean into your body as I expand mine around us and show you every star, to hold your hand as you remember how to tend the hearth fire. May I never know, even though I know, that far off landscape you must travel alone, and bless your feet for walking to the edge of it.
The great divide between men and women, the climate of toxic independence and the “we don’t need you, I don’t need you” has ripped a giant hole in the collective soul. The healing between the binary must happen for freedom of expression of any body and their sexual orientations. The majority collective has not transcended these wounds; we must not bypass as divine androgyny and the many expressions of the binary returns to our consciousness.
~My brother you are at your heart a holy many. How that wants to be shown and grown by you is between you and your creator.
I know you want to drink from the Well and be fed by Her bosom again. I have seen in your eyes the language of the Staff, a signal to the Stag that its body will be blessed as it blesses the village from your hunt. And so it is offered freely to you and you are a true hero. You understand what feeds. You have humble awareness of your rightful place in the order of things, your heart sings for Her and She dances for you.
I know you want to trust in your raw desires again. I know you want to reunite with the fecundity of Life to know the value of the seeds you sew. So when you look out on a fallow world and the women are hurting and the landscapes where your greatest grandfathers cried for a vision to know their sacred mission are dying, how can you know your greatest strengths as a man? Especially if women continue to harbor anger towards men, rather than the sacred rage of collective injustice and move it into transformation, keeping men in loops of guilt and shame.
How can men re pattern this? It is vital to first understand why your masculinity has been so twisted. Then seek out the rituals and rites of passage that unwind the wounded patriarch and reinstate the wise old Grandfather. There are men’s groups dedicated to this that change lives. Entheogenic plant medicines and magic mushrooms are rooted to unity consciousness and therefore heal the masculine/feminine divide in the individual soul. And let a good woman, or another human, love you and let yourself love. The aforementioned will help break down the barriers to this union.
I am a woman through and through. And I am everything, as are you. I speak from what runs hot in my blood. Pardon me brother if it is misplaced. But with the Solstice Fire burning in our hearts I felt a bit enraptured to share this.
A poem and blessing:
If you enter the lands and
remember how to till the soil
with a good prayer
I will bless your seeds
and the world will be fed
by our gardens
My brother, my Lover, my Son,
when was the last time
your hands were stained with
the scarlet hue
of a good harvest?
Reunite with the staff and bow
made of old Oak, and
the Elk will know
to offer itself freely
for your banquets
Lay yourself in the soft nest
of a moss-bank and be
the little bird ready
to become wisened into wings
by the World Tree
Eagleman you become when
your posture and perch are for
the sharp gaze of devotion
upon Her timeless beauty so
She knows that each crack in the aging skin of stone
was worth every storm.
GOOD STUFF DOWN HERE…
For the women~ 7 week immersion into devotional Womb Consciousness
Ceremonial initiations with sacred medicine- You know where to find me.
ooh ooh- I only make this once a year in small batches: A light in the heart- magic mushrooms, Nootka rose, Oaxaca cacao, St. John’s Wort, local honey, vodka, rose quartz and my prayers. $30 includes shipping. A little magic in your pocket. $25 if you are a paid subscriber. xo
For all- especially the men, here is a podcast that speaks to this drive to devotion.
Such a beautiful articulation of the masculine and feminine divide. Thank you for sharing this deep understanding of the polarities that can come back into unity. 🙏💫
Such things you see and say. May they continue to grow.