So, here I sit. My hair is grey and I have many lines on my face. I stare over an endless horizon that I could simply walk into, a pool of purple as the sun sets. I am a Woman, a fine one, even if I don’t always think so. A Mother, who has raised Powerhouses. Both Women who walk their lives true, sooner than I ever did. I have loved a man, and found the memory later, that to love women is what called me from when I was little. I don’t question this. Drew wild tattoos on paper napkins with a dear friend, the symbolism only really seen now. My body carries a story that I already knew then.
It was hard, it was tough. Sometimes I wanted to leave this form, but those Women who I bore and who chose me as their Mama, were what kept me going as I struggled to find my place.
I found myself in small spaces… sitting on lawns listening to the furthest sound I could find. Lighting candles, making staffs, feathers found and love, incense burning. Losing myself in meditation after dinners and bodies tucked. I took to paint, easel set up, and music blaring. I painted my Wilds, I painted my life into being. I wept, I drank wine, put the music louder and painted till my arms hurt and dawn was rising…
I worked, I loved the young ones I taught, and collapsed into bed after stories told. Singing chants that were written in chalk on my bedroom wall. We moved, I followed Love till it was no more, then packed our bags again, to go to the ocean. Vowing not to ever follow anyone else but Myself again. Repetition of my own childhood swiftly cut in that seeing. Then I stormed out of places that no longer held integrity with my Soul.
So, another sunset is behind me. It’s hard, it’s tough. I will paint again. This time it’s, orange juice and most likely chocolate. The music has changed. I have feathers that I use for Shaman tools, a staff carved 20 years ago, an altar with sacred objects. A drum that I use for journey work, and land that I walk, that speaks whispers so deeply into my soul. I have a New Name, given by a Teacher whose words echo ancestry from another blood line I had, She named me, “Two Crows Flying” (Thought and Memory bringing mystery’s from the other side) I have a Beloved, who is the Wind, She blows where She needs to, Loving her free Spirit just the way it is. She gifted me Big Medicine, in a cutting feather from a Cape Vulture, I am wary of the power in it, and will live into it slowly.
And I stay, firmly rooted where I Am. My Fruit Women, walking their worlds so confidently learning their own fine lessons, with me watching with glowing heart. What the Dawn holds or the future is something I speak to the Great Spirit about, prayers in the Pipe. And then, even though I do speak, tomorrow is really never seen.
I feel as if I am finally becoming unapologetically Wild.
My true self arising from a very deep place. I am scared and exhilarated at the same time. Living at Souls edge, is never for the fainthearted…
