I knew 33 was going to be a big age.
An initiation, a threshold, a portal.
And yet I had no idea the Worlds and landscapes I would traverse in the depths of my psyche/ soul.
As I stepped through the enormity of the birth portal once again, turning 34, in full awareness of the multi dimensionality of birth as a new Mother, I was flooded with the visceral and spiritual experience of birth, both my own and my daughters.
Immense grief and ecstatic joy.
Unfathomable terror and unbridled pleasure.
Death and life.
The paradox spilling from the seems.
Life bursting through the cracks of mundane mothering and modern living.
I am emerging once more as a new born, in a new World of mytho-poetic language, depth and meaning that resonates right through to my core and stirs something untouched and yet something known, something primordial, something ancient.
I began my 33rd year on the magical island of Madeira with my daughter, my wondering Sagittarian feet eager to start my year exploring new landscapes, not knowing they would lead me on a deeper, inner kind of quest.
We then spent a month at the foothold of the majestic Atlas mountains of Morocco, followed by 3 months in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of Southern Spain.
Some say the mountains are the gatekeepers of ancient wisdom.
I now realise they reflected an unwavering strength, as it was there I began a journey into the depths of my unconscious.
The path of the sacred wound…
Already a well trodden path, I have been traversing since a young teenager, and yet something about this age, something about being a Mother; opened a Pandora’s box of everything I had previously locked away.
Devastating loss, unruly shame, unimaginable terror as well as immense life force, unbound vitality, magic, enchantment and myth.
In opening this box,
I have come to a threshold;
A choice;
I can keep walking with this wound as if it is something I need to fix, in an endless pursuit of perfection and pathology, reducing it down, picking it apart, labelling it;
Which only leads to the devastating affects of the internalisation of an anti life paradigm, the burden I have witnessed first hand my foremothers carry.
A system which leaves no room for true transformation, for the heroines journey, for real alchemy.
Or..
I can choose to deepen,
I can mature,
I can surrender the endless grasping of a less developed mind, into a full bodied; mytho- erotic intimacy with the wound itself.
Knowing it was never a curse.
Or a great burden.
Knowing it is not a pathology.
Or something to be fixed..
But in fact a portal.
A doorway.
A gatekeeper.
A guide…
Inviting me to open fully to life in its provocative, wild, untameable, mysterious, expansive, deeply erotic ways.
Leading me to the edges of a truly authentic life.
A fulfilling life,
A life that’s my own.
Guiding me to embody my destiny.
Giving thanks to my Mother for carrying and birthing me and my Father for his strength of spirit, my ancestors who’s passionate Celtic hearts continue to guide my wild soul into deeper landscapes of truth.
Thank you Great Spirit for my life.
For all life.
Beautiful 🌹