The Ancestral Pipeline

 I wonder about trauma and fear and sadness being passed through ancestral lines. I think about it being pushed down and down, into the womb and into the babies, and into our psyches. I wonder about healing. The healing of our spirits. I think about the tools of our ancestors. I think about how the Divine Feminine was once honored alongside the Divine Masculine and how somewhere along the way she became the seductress, one to be feared, and subsequently submitted. I think about the tip of imbalance then, the trauma, the sadness, the fear. I think about women burned for using their medicine, and how it took decades to quiet the following generations into complacency. I wonder how it has affected us, these bodies that we are in now. I see ancestral knowledge, tools, the juice of our nature, the recipes for our medicine, being passed through a pipeline, an energetic pipeline that over these generations became kinked in places, to solve the immediate problems of silencing, witch burning, pain, suffering. Rusted. Stuck. I see us shielded from our own natures and becoming dissatisfied and angry and lost. Shame. Guilt. Fear. These things I was born into. I don’t remember a time when they weren’t there. These things made me question my place in the classroom. These things made me question my place in the world. These things made me question my worth. These things made me question my desire. These things made me question my birthright, the authority over my own nature. These things taught me to forget that I AM nature. I was born into a culture where my sex was my currency, so that once I was sprouted into a womanly shape, my power was all in my sex and in the way I could be desired. It was in what my sex could provide. A womb. A home. I quickly began to see myself through the lens of this convoluted belief system, and I began to compete for my standing. I began to manifest things for myself that were unsatisfying and against my nature, as I began to compete with other women who were my friends, who were my family. I began to feel the distrust that was planted in me for other women because their currency was also their sex, and their power hinged on how they could be desired. And here we all were, trying our damnedest to survive. We had forgotten the tools, our pipeline was kinked. The information that we needed, the compass of our power, was stagnant in our blood. It had been quieted out of fear. Out of guilt. Out of shame. We are reborn now, into this time. We are reaching back, we are clearing the pipeline. We are learning our roots. We are hearing the call. We are finding our way. We are rising up.

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