Lately I have been dealing with the most annoying and destructive emotions. Jealousy and lack, which is a very bad combination. I’ve been pondering these emotions over the last few days while the moon has been full and illuminating all of my emotions. Especially these ones!
I have had a very challenging couple of years. Moving my family from a stable, yet not-quite-right, country town to the inner city by the sea, which was beautiful and transformative but so, so difficult. Moving again, to the dream land has been amazing and the land here is so soft and holding. But the urgent energy of “do!!! do now!!! hurry up and don’t get left behind!” comes up and bites me.
I find myself in a region full of amazing people doing wonderful things and that little voice pops up and tells me there is no space for me here. Don’t even bother. Just stay small, stay quiet. There is not enough. Everyone will get courses and workshops and gigs and gatherings filled except me. And the voice is triumphant! See, I was right, shouldn’t bother.
That little voice has had a very big job. It is my loyal solider, standing guard to my sacred wound, lest anyone or anything dare to activate it. It’s been keeping me safe for nearly 40 years, and fully committed to the job.
Last full moon weekend I sat in circle with beautiful women delving deep into our sacred wounds. Of course mine became fully activated, triggered, acutely drawing my attention in the weeks leading up to the process and beyond. If you’re going to hold a circle, you better be prepared to do the work!!
I have been journeying with my sacred wound awareness for 5 years, since I first started learning the Shamanic Womancraft way. Each year, each time we re-visit this space, I feel the layer of the onion peel off and go a little bit deeper. My wound reveals itself to be far more complex that I initially worked with. The moon illuminating the parts of the wound that I wasn’t prepared to deal with before. The things I knew were there, but put into the later, too hard, too ugly box. With this revelation comes the full understanding of the archetypes that have been protecting me ever since. How those emotions of jealousy and lack and failure are brought in to protect that small child inside who is desperate to avoid re-wounding.
So I dove in, being held through my own process by my teacher, skilfully taken back to the time of my wounding and feeling where I have carried that wound in my body for so long. I brought my power animals into that space, allowing black panther and snowy owl to hold me and help me as I navigated a form of soul retrieval and found the keys to my healing deep within.
As the moon wanes and slips towards darkness I can see the gold. What a gift to be seeing clearly! What a gift to be able to see those emotions for exactly what they are. I am so grateful to envy and lack for flooding my body and heart. It has given me a dark and wild portal to go through and examine exactly where I am and given me such a deepening of my sacred wound. The important word of course, being sacred. This is sacred work we embark on when we choose to dive deeply into our wounds and to find the gifts of that wound that we create in the world. And on this dark moon I will let them all go, set my intentions for the new cycle, and witness the deepening of my process.
I can still remember being woken up by hoons down the street, by the bin truck making it’s daily rounds, by the mowers, the runners, surfers, the buzz of the inner city. Today I was woken up by the kookaburra song as the sun was just lighting up the forest.
Every morning I hear the bird song. The same birds sometimes sing us to sleep. When it rains the barking frogs start their chorus, a conversation in croaks.
So many changes I am still getting used to in our forest home. And so much to do! Lots of our energy has been expended on maintaining the grounds surrounding the house, keeping the weeds at bay and the grass short.
But lately I have been drawn deeper into the bush. Coming out of my spiral house and venturing beyond it’s cosy edges. The bush around us is prolifent with camphor laurels. Trees, which grow into huge beauties, but behave like weeds, choking out the natives. At first glance, our little patch of forest looks like a sea of camphors. but if you pause, and look a little deeper the bush begins to reveal itself.
I found the grandmother tree with my daughter, when we were having a boys-away-camping girls weekend at home. rather than looking where we were putting our feet, we looked up, and there her white branches could be seen in the canopy. A massive tree, too big to reach my arms around, with a perfect little natural altar at the base. here we placed our offerings, a green leaf and a red leaf. a moment of mother and daughter honouring the ancestors.
we walked on. pulling up weeds as we went. scrambling down the steep slope. crossing the creek bed on a perfect little natural bridge. We spent a good few hours pulling out lantana and camphor seedlings on one of the only flat spots of the land. sweaty, covered in mosquito bites and feeling strong. I feel the land responding to me. I feel a deep sense of responsibility to her. Beyond our border the lantana is a jungle, left to grow and take over. On our side it is manageable. I feel the past of who lived here and loved this land before me. It’s mine to care for now. to listen and feel what it needs and how best to care for it.
I always dreamed of having land. It was something that became so strong in my when we lived in the inner city. But I had no idea the hold it would have on me once we got here. It’s like this land chose us to be its custodians. There was definitely magick afoot when we found, fell in love and bought this space. I am now listening deeply to what I need to know.