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22.01.2022 Theres not enough love & understanding in this world.. we can go through life, muddling away, trying to keep your head above water..... But whilst you do this, complacent of those around you, scared of the answer, scared of the truth, scared to react if the answer you might hear is unfamiliar.... But the real question is simply.... HOW ARE YOU? How are you really???... Behind that smile, behind that persona, behind that tired eyed person, behind those hidden tears, that person might actually need you to ask that all important question.... HOW ARE YOU?..., touch base with those around you, take charge, live without regret.... See more
17.01.2022 Lets talk CRONE and how she’s dying.. The Crone is a woman who no longer menstruates physically, she is now a fully embodied wise woman. With many moons behind... her and the experience she has acquired, she can now turn her attention to being a guide for the young. Being free in her body - no longer worried about pregnancy, pretense or deep fluctuations in hormones, she has come to a serene place of acceptance.. an embodied dance with the rhythms and energetics of life. I have been guided by grandmothers with silver hair as magnificent as the moonlight for a very long time in my dreams, it has helped me develop a keen appreciation for the Crone, it has allowed me to see aging as an exquisite and delicate gift. It has helped me make healthy choices in the now and embrace with subtle anticipation the day when I too will be a grandmother to the children of our world. In ancient times and cultures, the Crone was revered. The Crone was consulted for matters of importance and well being of tribes. Children and grown alike would come for advice and storytelling to the skirts of the Crone. The gray hair was looked at as stripes of honor and the wrinkles as badges of courage and experience. When a woman’s blood flow would stop coming it was said she no longer needed it, as she had accumulated the wisdom of the moon enough to embody it and invite it to stay. These wise women understood the importance of death and renewal at such a cellular level they no longer needed to be reminded every month. In todays culture, the Crone is in great danger of being crushed. In a society where faster, better, younger is the theme and tattooed into our consciousness every day The elders are very often overlooked and seen as nuisance, annoying, slow, their beauty is smudged over and often shoved into care homes or confined to a bedroom in the house, Google has now usurped the throne of the wise one. We see Maiden archetype everywhere- the endless pursuit of youth.. From a multibillion dollar market of beauty products to the movie screens.. Everyone wants to be young, plump and fresh. We see the Mother archetype- the caring loving mother and as Lara Owen mentions in her book, although limited- it is even revered in religion. But the Crone.. where is she? She is hidden, she is stashed away all that power hidden in her belly and nowhere to go. She has been pushed to abhor her post menopausal state, as though it is a condemnation rather than a blessing, as if not being able to birth children is now a curse that spills inward into a barren womb.. All that wisdom rejected, unacknowledged, dishonored in exchange for the pursuit of staying young and ‘fertile’ only to be ridiculed and mocked by a society that in paradoxical cruelty repudiates the Crone as well. No, the Crone cannot expect to be accepted without first accepting herself, knowing that her bones are indeed each day becoming more and more one with the earth... The silenced Crone cannot demand a place in a society where she too has helped exile this archetype. This is why we need to speak of Her, the Crone- the holy guide that lives and will one day emerge from you and when it does you will have a choice: will you let her in and feast on the banquet of your holy life experience or will you shut the door in her face and leave her out to starve in hopes that the maiden and mother, whom have left, will someday come back. Many times I have wanted to write about the Crone even create for it but I am held back by the misleading belief that I have to be one to speak of it. ‘No more...' my sleeping crone has whispered, ‘you must begin to pave the way for my visit.. planting seeds along the path that may bloom for my homecoming.’ Resting and gestating in me, she is harnessing strength to come and live fully, to guide, to teach, to dance, to remind, to slow me down, to make me softer, to be reflected on my skin and in my gaze when the time comes. So in the meantime, I will speak of the Crone to our children and to anyone that will hear - I will honor the magnificently wise women I am surrounded by, sisters hiding their beauty behind veils. I will remind them, I will whisper, I will nudge, I will invite. ‘Take off your veil! You are holy sacred wise woman, you are here, you are a message now is your time to guide!’ ~ Anabel Vizcarra ~ Nicole Sacred Wild Woman Medicine Artist ~Autumn Skye Art
15.01.2022 Embrace your inner child with gentle healing love
13.01.2022 Every day, I make accommodations for this grief. Every. Single. Day. Without exception. On a good day, that might look like excusing myself to the bathroom at... work where I can cry in private, if only for a few minutes, until I can get the emotions under control again. On a bad day, that might look like hastily excusing myself for the remainder of my shift and bolting to the car where I come so desperately unglued in the parking lot that I need my husband or daughter to talk me down so I can actually drive home. On a good day, maybe I ask my son or daughter to go to the grocery store with me, to make the task a little easier. On a bad day, maybe I just give up and order groceries online and have them delivered. (On a very bad day, I decide food is not a necessity. What do doctors know?) On a good day, I might get dressed and allow myself to wear just a little bit of makeup out. On a bad day, I don’t get dressed at all, and the idea of makeup or going anywhere farther than the bathroom is so ludicrous it’s almost laughable. On a good day, I might be willing to talk to a friend or family member, check in, have a conversation that revolves around more than just how depressed I am. On a bad day, I probably won’t even answer the phone. These accommodations are ever-shifting because grief is a living, changing thing. What works today may not tomorrow. Today, it may be kinder to ignore the dog hair and dirty floors and hug the couch until the sun goes down. Tomorrow, it may be kinder to get up and try to tame my space, so that I can feel productive and functional and human. I have to check in with my grief constantly, like an overbearing house mother. Is it okay to go out tonight? How long is too long in the company of others? What time do I need to be in bed? How much can I manage to eat today? Is work realistic? Is dinner? Is showering? It’s all over the map from one day to the next. And the dance required to keep up is exhausting. But I must perform it. I don’t have a choice. Because one wrong step can crater me, can send me back months in my progress, can shut me down for days on end. If I don’t accommodate my grief, if I don’t accommodate this newly shattered woman in her newly fragile body with her newly aching heart, she will not survive. Of that, I am sure. She will not remain. She will not be here for the people who need her. She will not be here to anchor Evelyn’s spirit in this world of living matter, of flesh and bones and blood.So the question of accommodating my grief is not a question at all. It’s a command. It’s an imperative. But the question of others accommodating my grief remains. The question of what’s expected of those around me, and how much, and when, and how often those questions are still very much on the table. It’s like the old limbo pole, How low can you go? How far can you bend to be at my side? How far should you? How much can I ask of you? Do I even have a right to ask anything at all? The truth is, I haven’t asked for much. Not out loud. Most of the accommodating others have done for me, they have extended willingly, out of the softness and gentleness of their hearts, out of a deep vein of empathy and a desire to help in any way they can. And that has been such an enormous blessing. Because asking is hard. Even when your need is desperate, it doesn’t make the asking any easier. If anything, it’s almost more difficult than before. And it’s not improved by the cultural stigma around death, especially child death, especially a death like Evelyn’s. It’s not improved by the cultural stigma around pain and vulnerability and sorrow and anger and emotion in general. But because all the steps in the dance of grief insist on being taken, no matter how inconsistent they may be, because every move over the linethe line being my threshold for emotional and physical painhas the potential to relegate me to a place I may never come back from, when I absolutely have to ask, I do. I call into work. Or I ignore the phone. Or I pay the extra $15 to let someone else shop for my groceries. Or I decline the invitation. Or I say, Please help or in some cases, Please stop But as time marches on, I wonder where people’s patience will run out. Will my job still be okay with me calling in a grief day in six months or six years? Will my family still understand if I skip out on the Christmas celebrations for the next year or the next decade? Will my friends understand if I can’t go to their kid’s birthday parties or graduations or weddings maybe ever? How much space does my wounded heart have a right to ask for? How much time? How much patience? How much forgiveness? When will society expect me to stop identifying as a bereaved mother? Do I get to mourn her for ten years? Or twenty? What is the expiration date for grief? What is the shelf life of a dead child? Who makes those calls? Who sets the numbers? I’m learning that I can’t rely on others to tell me how much I get to grieve or for how long. But I’m also learning that as I continue to make room in my every day for this new appendage called grief, I can’t rely on others to continue making room as well. Any grieving parent will tell you, your inner circle shrinks as those around you reset their expectations until they decide, once and for all, they can reset them no more. And that begs the larger question, what about cultural accommodations? What about political and legal accommodations? What about financial accommodations? Should bereaved parents have access to resources to assist them in the first month or the first year? Should we make room for that in our state or federal legislation? Should we have more non-profits and charities dedicated to them? To me? I’m not the only grieving mother to bring this up. This kind of loss is devastating on so many levels. It is akin to a national disaster happening in the space of one family. It is akin to one heart absorbing the force of a nuclear bomb. And the travesty is that it all happens on a plane we cannot witness with our eyes. The grieving walk around with butchered hearts and decimated souls, but without a limp. When school started for my son only weeks after his sister’s death, there was nothing in place to accommodate him within the system. And even with my constant advocating, they were unable to provide the level of support he required. My job is unique in that I work for a small, family-run business with enormous spirit. When I called after eight months away, they made a place for me again. And they continue to understand when my grief interferes. But in my case, there was no grief leave (which had more to do with the scope of my position than anything else, being part-time). In my husband’s case, there was two weeks. Two weeks to mourn our daughter. Two weeks to gather the pieces of his heart, put them back in his chest, and find a way to function. And how many companies don’t even offer that? Do we make so little space for our personal and emotional needs in this country that the idea of rising up as a community to support those who are reeling with loss has become foreign to us? We have been surrounded by givers. We are the lucky ones. We have so far absorbed the financial shock waves of this loss with loving help. But the physical toll remains to be seen. And the emotional toll continues to weigh heavy. Support in a dozen different directionscounseling, medicine, supplements, massage, chiropractors, doctors, and moreis more than luxury, it’s absolutely necessary. And how long do we get to feel entitled to these services? I think, for those who have not lost a child or experienced a similar trauma, that it’s easy to slip into a place of impatience. To believe that we dance to the tune of our loss out of selfishness or coddling or a sense of entitlement. To believe that we are weak or lazy or obsessed. I think, for some of those people, because they have not experienced the random senselessness of child loss or a similar trauma, that they need to place blame. Blame makes sense. It makes the world more manageable. Surely, if we are struggling, it must be our fault somehow. It must be someone’s. It seems easy, from that place, to point to cause and effect. To draw clear lines between events. To make someone ultimately responsible. To shift from patience and understanding toknock it off when accommodating our grief ceases to be easy or comfortable for them. And I have some sympathy for that because there is nothing about accommodating grief that is easy for the grieving. There is nothing about the steps that gets simpler or smoother or better. If I could set my grief down somewhere on this path and simply walk away, I likely would. But then, for me, this grief is woven into the bond I have with Evelyn, and I will never abandon her. So when I have to ask, and when I have to choose between accommodating or suffering more, between abandoning my child’s memory and myself or being abandoned by others, the choice is obvious, but it is never, ever easy. ~ by Anna Silvernail Anna Silvernail is a crystal healer, spiritual teacher, shamanic empath, tarot & crystal reader, high priestess, YA author, and self-taught artist. Author's Website: https://www.sacredvoices.net/
10.01.2022 Sadness is a heavier energy, lurking just beneath all that fear. Fear keeps the sadness locked in place, by preventing us from ever addressing, honestly and aut...hentically, the fact that we don’t want to feel our own broken hearts. It’s a defense mechanism that keeps the sadness at bay. We don’t want to open ourselves to our own sadness. Who wants to be that vulnerable? All that loss, that grief, that avalanche of sorrow? Why would we sign on for such a thing? So many times people tell me they’re afraid that if they start feeling their sadness, they’ll never stop crying. But here is a radical idea: The ability to be sad is a blessing. In our childhoods, we were taught that sadness is a sign of weakness. Remember your own childhood: Were you ever called a crybaby? Or made to feel ashamed of your tears? Did you somehow internalize the message that you were supposed to stuff those feelings, put on a brave face, chin up and all that? I’m here to tell you that if you want to release the vibrational density you’re carrying around, you need to do the precise opposite. Feel it. Feel it all. What’s the worst thing that can happen? When we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, we are experiencing a blessing. We are offering ourselves the opportunity to see and experience life authentically, without defenses or screens keeping us front our own true nature. There is an exquisiteness to sadness and pain. It as a quality and resonance that is unique. It’s a way we all can relate to one another, because we all feel sadness. Were it not for our judgement of that emotion, no one would have a problem feeling it. Sadness is socially unacceptable, we’re conditioned from day one to understand sadness as a sign of weakness, so people refuse to experience it, and it accumulates weight. Its density grows in the body. Look at the body language and posture of someone who is experiencing a depression: They seem to carry a weight on their shoulders. They’re hunched over. They can hardly get out of bed. It’s like a weeping willow tree as opposed to mighty oak. The oak tree is firm and elegant and upright. The weeping willow has allowed the burdens of life to bend it. The key is to shift your experience of sadness. Grief? Loss? Tears pouring down your cheeks? Good. Feel it all. Know that you are one of 7.2 billion people on this planet who experience the same thing. The rejection of sadness further separates you from your own wholeness. Lean into it. Breathe. Accept. Embrace and embody the blessings of sadness, because where there is acceptance, judgement no longer has any power. When you let this energy wash over you, there will be an intensity to it, but as you keep allowing it to flow through you, it will eventually diminish. Allow life to do its job.~ ~Panache Desai
09.01.2022 The waves of Grief
09.01.2022 When God created woman he was working late on the 6th day....... An angel came by and asked. "Why spend so much time on her?"... The Lord answered. "Have you seen all the specifications I have to meet to shape her? She must function on all kinds of situations, She must be able to embrace several kids at the same time, Have a hug that can heal anything from a bruised knee to a broken heart, She must do all this with only two hands, She cures herself when sick and can work 18 hours a day" THE ANGEL was impressed "Just two hands.....impossible! And this is the standard model?" The Angel came closer and touched the woman "But you have made her so soft, Lord". "She is soft", said the Lord, "But I have made her strong. You can't imagine what she can endure and overcome." "Can she think?" The Angel asked... The Lord answered. "Not only can she think, she can reason and negotiate." The Angel touched her cheeks.... "Lord, it seems this creation is leaking! You have put too many burdens on her" "She is not leaking...it is a tear" The Lord corrected the Angel "What's it for?" Asked the Angel..... The Lord said. "Tears are her way of expressing her grief, her doubts, her love, her loneliness, her suffering and her pride." This made a big impression on the Angel, "Lord, you are a genius. You thought of everything. A woman is indeed marvellous" Lord said. "Indeed she is. She has strength that amazes a man. She can handle trouble and carry heavy burdens. She holds happiness, love and opinions. She smiles when she feels like screaming. She sings when she feels like crying, cries when happy and laughs when afraid. She fights for what she believes in. Her love is unconditional. Her heart is broken when a next-of-kin or a friend dies but she finds strength to get on with life" The Angel asked: "So she is a perfect being?" The Lord replied: "No. She has just one drawback She often forgets what she is worth." Author ~ Devina Nund Artist~ Gratitude to the Unknown Artist
08.01.2022 A MESSAGE FOR ALL THE SO CALLED CRAZY CONSPIRACY THEORISTS and HEALERS out there ! Never doubt what you truly feel and stay true to you, and who You are , yo...u are all my heros!, YOU are doing your own deep dark shadow work to bring you into the amazing new dimension we are slowly moving towards, its all going to be WORTH it, so stay with that grit and the new grooves/routes you are in. To All of You who have been laughed at, abused on social media and called insane for years but who still stand up for what you believe in and try to get the truth out to the public. You have lost friends and family, you have been ridiculed, and yet you still speak your truth. For all the hippies, light workers, star seeds, way showers and alternative therapists who have always felt alienated and different but never stopped being that person who tries to offer a different perspective to things. You learned about Energy Healing, Crystals, Mother Gaia and Healing therapy while those around you laughed. You were different and weird and never were one for conforming. For the sensitives and empaths whose hearts break knowing about the Human trafficking and the Pedophile Rings and more...The ones who woke up and realised what was going on in the world and had to have their hearts shattered into a million pieces while everyone in their life simply thought they were losing their minds. You had to face all that alone and it broke your heart, but you did it and you faced that DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL like a King and Queen!! For those Old Souls who try every single day to help humanity, who feel isolated and different and who have lost many friends and family members in the process of waking up. The ones who don’t go out any more, the ones who research until days have passed by, the ones who stood up and dared say what nobody else would. The ones who have dedicated their life to this ascension process... I take my Hat off to Each and Every one of You. This process is the hardest thing anyone will ever have to do and you had to do it first! Every single day more and more people are waking up. I know it’s hard and you’re feeling exhausted and sometimes drained by the negative response you’re getting, but stay strong because this battle will soon be over and soon the World will know WHAT WE DO AND WHY WE DID IT. This time will be spoken about in history and your efforts to awaken and heal humanity will effect not only our existence on Planet Earth but it will effect everything throughoutThe Universe. This is a Galactic Event and you have chosen this assignment before you incarnated into this Timeline. You chose to be here right now < You are a DIVINE BEING.REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE , YOU GOT THIS ! Infinite Blessings Åsa Larsdotter Falck Indigo & Pleiadian Starseed
05.01.2022 Whenever I hear a man say..."she's too Wild, too much, too hard to figure out, too complicated, too intense, too emotional, too opinionated, or crazy"...I hear......"I'd a burned her ass at the stake back in Salem. She is too connected to the Goddess. I won't be able to tame her. I won't understand her. I won't be able to keep her. She won't need me. She is too powerful and won't love the wounded parts of me." Au contraire, she will see the parts of you that you're afraid of and love them anyway. A women unleashed will love you without every needing to change you. She will connect to you on a primal level, needing your body, succumbing to her inner fire, her passion and will rock your world. As a lover, she'll not just make love to your body or heart, but to your soul. You will wonder how you ever called it living before you met her. She will piss you off and when you fight, it will suck. When you make up, you will realize you felt like you were dying as you thought of life without her, but she's taught you of your strength and how your vulnerability makes you brave. She makes you realize you could survive anything, even losing her, because she taught you to believe in yourself. She will demand more of you and you will be glad she knew you had it in you all along. She will fiercely love you and teach you, nurture you and reach you, which at times make you uncomfortable. She will love the scared, little boy inside that you are afraid exists and acknowledging him makes you feel like the old you died, the one that lived a lie, that BS guy. That part of you that feels not good enough will come up to heal and she will see through your façade. She'll push your buttons and make you reach for more within yourself. She will make you ask yourself questions, making you grow, and know way more you thought was even possible. She will challenge you and never will she be boring. She will excite you and infuriate you with her boldness, that she allows herself to just be all of herself, and not parts. Her tears will scare you and you will want to fix her, her problems, and the world. She will reassure you that this is one way she expresses herself and that it doesn't mean weakness, that you can cry when you are angry, happy, sad, and for no reason at all. That tears are like an elixir for the soul, a catalyst for letting go, a signal of a change in energy. It will be a wild ride, an adventure that takes you to the edge of yourself. Love a Wild One! Let her bewitch you.. entrance you, bedazzle you, seduce you, mesmerize you, enchant you.. ..and let her free you..! ~ Jenny G. Perry Nicole Sacred Wild Woman Medicine Artist~ Dimitra Milan
02.01.2022 A little bit of light reading to get my mojo back into the swing of things
01.01.2022 This was written by a woman who lost her husband. I've changed a few words so it relates to us. Sums it up beautifully I think. Coping with Grief Most people on the periphery assume we are strong because they see us doing life. They see us in our driveways. They watch us get into our vehicles as we are on our way to participate in the stuff of living. Yes, we are doing things, they are witness to it all. The assumption is that we’ve got this and maybe part of us does. But ...Continue reading
