Letting Go and Moving On: A Shamanic Initiation of the Heart

Letting Go and Moving On: A Shamanic Initiation of the Heart

by Anyaa McAndrew

 

A few weeks ago, I made a life decision: to let go of a certain kind of work I have been offering to the world since early 2000. It is clear to me that this is a crossroads I have been facing for the past few years, yet every time I facilitated a Shamanic Priestess circle, I was so inspired by the consciousness of the women who stepped forward, and the quality of the work we did together, that I kept saying, “Ok, one more year….”. Years ago I had the opportunity to do what so many others do; to put my work into an on-line format, but the Goddess said “no, it needs to be in-person….too much would be lost in the translation.” So, I kept beating the drum, and the women came, and those who wanted to apprentice, and take this work into their own lives came, and I continued to feel on-purpose.

Now, finally, the time has come, as I move into the winter of my life, to pull in my energy from the temple of the world that has been the way we priestesses walk, and let others carry it on. The Divine Feminine has been seeded by me, and by hundreds and thousands of women worldwide, some self-proclaimed as priestesses and bravely declaring it, and some who have clearly walked the path of the sacred woman of wisdom in quiet solo ways. I honor the priestess in all of us, as my teacher Nicole Christine did. So many of us have been on assignment to do this work! I lay down the path I have carved….through the density of the patriarchy….in these most chilling and challenging of times. I have one last circle~retreat I am facilitating here in early April at my Isis Cove Community here in the Smoky Mountains, and I am anticipating a pretty powerful end-cap to these past 20 years!

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Medicine Wheel

Our beautiful Medicine Wheel is our Earth Temple on Dove Mountain. Consisting of 37 stones, each weighing about 1000-2000lbs, the Medicine Wheel has been used for weddings, vision quests and all night ceremonies. Seekers come to this site to connect with healing energies of earth, their ancestors and animal totems. The Medicine Wheel on Dove Mountain is a powerful place to visit and re-member who it is you came here to be.

We will do some of our priestess ceremonies here.

I am a psychotherapist and an astrologer, so I have been tracking my own initiation cycles, wondering what my next soul purpose might be. In my mind I was dreaming of deeper relaxation and renewal. But now I feel my soul may have another agenda. I returned home in late February (less than a week ago as I write this) and woke up the next morning to an email about the end of the annual 6-month dolphin hunt in Japan, and I opened it. I rarely do this because I get so emotionally triggered, but I was compelled to thoroughly read about this recent carnage to dolphins. I believe as others do, that dolphons and whales never intended to be food for humans when they came here, but to carry a certain kind of consciousness from our origins in the stars. Some animals seem to be from the stars, as my Westie Lily was, and some are more connected to the earth. It seems to be the same with us humans. I found myself exploding with grief, so took it to our exquisite community Medicine Wheel, created by Venus Rising.  I recently read a incredible book by my priestess sister Toby Evans called Dead But Not Gone: Are You Part of the Soul-Bridge to Guide Them Home? In that moment I wondered if perhaps I was a soul-bridge for animals. I carry a compassion for animals, including my own fur-kids, that goes beyond ordinary compassion. So, in the rain, I ceremonially walked the Medicine Wheel three times counter-clockwise to open the center as a portal for these dolphins, honoring them, the directions, the ancestors, calling in their Oversouls, and all dolphins and whales who needed a soul-bridge to ascend to their next level of evolution. When I completed, my partner Joe and I noticed that the rain intensified for a few minutes. I considered this an omen.

9 years ago we brought Ena home from a rescue organization in KY

Very early Saturday morning about 2 am, my 10-yr old Cairn Terrier girl Ena, went into a mysterious and severe healing crisis that caused me to drive an hour through the mountains, to an emergency vet hospital where I had to leave her overnight. We noticed a few symptoms earlier in the day but nothing like this. Earlier on Friday, I started her on some natural medicines till we could get to her vet on Monday.  I walked the Medicine Wheel the next day in the same way, this time asking for a miracle, or to open a portal for her release. I was informed later that day that Ena was in serious condition with no clear path to recovery. Joe, Prince my boy-dog and I drove back to Asheville soon after, and with the help of our animal healer Tammy Billups energetically connecting to her in a way so familiar to Ena, we assisted her in crossing over the Rainbow Bridge. It was a compassionate, heartbreaking, and courageous experience for all of us, especially Ena and me. It all happened in about 14 hours, barely enough time to say good-bye. Many of you know very well from your own experiences with your four-legged Beloveds (and your human Beloveds) how heart-wrenching this is. We are in a deep quiet grief at my house, where Ena was, as Joe says, “the life of the party”. We brought her body home with us for closure: for us, our other animals and her human friends. The next day Lindi and Joe cermonially wrapped her in blankets, and with eleven of us circled up, and one dog attending, we buried her behind the garden. We will plant flowers soon, when I can find my way to celebrating Spring.

 

She has a beautifully carved wooden headstone to mark her grave, created by Ray, a generous community member.

I had no idea that the universe would need to take my Ena-girl when I committed to finding a new purpose, but I understand in the great cycle of things that this heart-wrenching-open initiation is likely a part of it all. It will take me some time to fully integrate and it will take some commitment to keep my heart fully open. And, as I initiate and ordain several new priestesses soon, I will be completing a heart intiation into a new and as yet uncharted phase of my life. Thank you for reading my story. My hope is that it touches your heart, and renews your reverence for all life, and awakens the Sacred Witness within you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

To Ena

a heart-opening charmer of a dog –

I hope where you’re going,

there are plenty of squirrels,

imaginary and real

for you to chase,

and treats to eat that can’t be beat.

and plenty of hands to nuzzle under,

plenty of hearts to melt,

plenty of princes to provoke,

and forever fresh reminders

of just how deeply you are loved.

I am but one of many who will miss you,

your bark, your tender feistiness, your sulky shyness,

            your morning glee, your irrepressible spirit,

            just having you there to greet me, not just with

                        unconditional love, but also

                         with boundless enthusiasm…

is a gift beyond measure.

It’s enough to break down any wall, any barrier, any block to love…

How exactly is that you do this magic?

Even now, as your body lies still in that flimsy cardboard box,

you touch the hearts of everyone in this circle,

radiating outward farther than eyes can see,

            something so beautiful,

                        so vast,

            that we can only smile as we cry in its passing,

                        in yours,

                                    dear Ena Bodina,

thank you for touching my life with your paw.

by Joe Landwehr 3/3/19

 

 

 

 

 

In this season of Peace, Join me in sending out this Global Vision!

The Global Vision: A World that Works for Everyone and for All Creation

Where all life is honored as expressions of the Divine

Where people live according to spiritual truth

Where humanity awakens to spiritual magnificence

Where humanity rediscovers personal creative power

Where we live as one global family

Where kinship with all life prospers

Where unity and connection is emphasized

Where forgiveness is the norm

Where spiritual guidance is valued

Where we are called to conscious social action

Where people have enough food, homes and a sense of belonging

Where there is peace, harmony, and justice for all.

Where resources are valued, cared for, and shared

Where communities are meaningfully involved in service to the world

Where there is a renewed emphasis on beauty, nature, creativity, art, and aesthetics

We envision a world that works for everyone and for all of creation

 

Solstice, Holyday, Holiday and New Years’ Blessings to you and your Beloveds,

Anyaa McAndrew & Joe Landwehr

The Perils of the Patriarchy by Gemini Adams

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From Anyaa: An Irish Sister with some powerful words in a timely rant:

“Never. Did I imagine that on this journey of life I’d end up on a stage using the words cum, tits, cunt, woman, shriveled, whore, fucking, Disney, priests, terror, at the same time. Yet, that’s what happens when you share your writings on…The Perils of the Patriarchy: An Ode

Piercing with your sword of hate,
You penetrate and poison,
The purity of humanity,
The love of the Mother,
The innocence of the sweet child,
Tearing away the right to feel safe,
Accepted,
Adored,
Inside our very own being,
Bodies,
Even our homes.

You judge, criticise, compare,
Contorting the essence of womanhood,
Which lies hidden within,
Not worn as adornments,
Bouncing Baywatch-style breast implants
Perfectly polished, plastic nails,
Prettily puckered,
And plumped lips,
Laden with lead,
Toxic, chemically coiffed hair,
Or heels that steal,
Our barefoot connection,
With Her – the Earth.

You poke, tweak,
Fuck and leave,
Calling it sex,
But we’re never impressed,
Our bodies empty of pleasure as,
Your balls of cum, when,
You’ve wastefully exploded your,
Precious,
Life-giving sperm,
Onto our tits,
Grinning with cunning,
Calling it fun.

How my heart breaks,
For your delusion,
The persuasiveness of porn,
And the empty lives it pervades,
Devoid of deep, intimate connection
Of sensual touch,
And eyes locking into gaze,
Joining souls across dimensions,
Bodies flowering,
Opening to oceans of pure, pure pleasure,
And union, as tantric centres awaken,
A vine of sacred love entwining,
With deliciously,
Deliciously, sweet satisfaction.

The Priestess knows,
Deep in her soul,
She remembers the time,
When men were not wankers,
Called to enter the Temple,
For initiation into the art of sensuality,
No late night XXX channel,
The mess, mopped up with Kleenex,
But rather,
A ceremonial ritual,
To bless and give thanks for the,
Divine elixir expressed.

She knows this isn’t the way,
T & A spread all about town,
Protruding from mini-dresses,
Plastered on billboards,
Flashing on screens,
Naked in strip clubs,
Advertising everything from,
Cars to baked beans,
How did we allow ourselves,
To be so defiled?
Where did we step down,
From our throne,
Chuck away our crown,
And accept,
Instead of being worshipped,
To be reviled?

We gave them the weapon,
We denounced our power,
Blaming them won’t help,
Silently they’ll call you a cunt,
Because they’re bitter, angry,
Lost and afraid,
These warriors know they have,
Nothing more to fight for,
The Queen has left the building,
So, what’s the point in winning?
There’s no reward in returning,
Home from battle,
To the arms of a woman,
Devastated by self-hatred.

She has nothing to give,
Her river run dry,
Her heart shrivelled in fear,
Of not being ______,
(fill in the blank) enough,
Her days spent,
Desperately scouring,
The celeb mags and sites,
To find the One,
Diet,
Dress,
Butt-lift,
Eyebrow tweeze,
Nip or tuck,
That will make her feel good again.

Just like the boy,
Whose mother,
Rejects,
And neglects,
Deep down,
The anger swells,
The pain of failing to find the,
Presence in connection,
With another,
Turns to poison,
Which must,
Be purged.

But men don’t turn this,
In on themselves,
Like us women,
Oh no,
They have a divining rod,
Rather than a receptacle,
An arrow to fire,
A dagger to insert,
A gun to shoot,
A missile to aim,
At target unknown.

Bitch
Mother
Sister
Slapper
Vixen
Virgin
Wife
Whore
Does it really matter?
As long as it has real,
T & A and isn’t a,
Masquerading Ladyboy.

The point is,
Aim for the Vagina,
With the venomous blade,
To direct,
And conquer,
To release,
And unleash,
All the pent up rage,
At no longer having a Queen,
To stand strong for,
To serve,
To be sure of.

Externalised,
This transmutes into,
The raw agony of a mother,
Hearing her husband,
Fucking her under age daughter,
The weeping virgin sold as bride,
To a deviant middle aged man,
The cute chica from the club,
Whose consent was compromised,
The minute he gave her ketamine,
Waking the next day,
Wondering why she’s so sore?

The pretty princess,
Deluded by Disney,
To be nice and polite,
And silently wait,
For the prince,
To come rescue her,
From the big bad dragon,
Or wake her from the,
Thousand year sleep,
Giving her life,
As if she’s incapable,
Of making it,
Without his assistance.

The lady,
Sprinting from the terror,
Of the man’s footsteps,
That follow her,
Down the dark alley,
Or the woman who,
Lies awake at night,
Waiting,
For the drunken assault,
That’s going to rearrange,
Her furniture,
Or face.

The yogi devoted to her Swami,
Until his fingers force their way,
Into her Lululemon pants,
While she’s in,
Downward facing dog,
Freezing with fear,
And uncertainty,
As he suggestively says,
Just surrender,
To my healing hands.

The innocent girl,
Seeking stardom,
Forced to secure her role,
Not with talent,
But, an uncomfortable night,
On the casting couch,
Contorting her principles,
With a Hollyweird producer,
Claiming first dibs,
As he gifts her a place,
Not on the Oscar nominees list,
But in the swelling ranks of,
The #MeToo movement.

The mother who blindly,
Follows Him,
Praying as she,
Places her kids innocently,
Into the sticky-fingered paws,
of popes and priests,
Unaware of the perils,
And perversions,
They’ll endure at the,
Hands of these,
Ahem ….
Holy men.

Others tout the benefits of polyamory,
A paradigm for the New Earth,
They claim,
But isn’t it just,
Acting out the wounding,
And unmet desires for attention,
Of a child,
Who failed to receive,
From their avoidant,
Alcoholic,
Absent,
Or abusive parent?

My friends,
What kind of world,
Are we co-creating here?
Where you prick away at,
Our safety,
Our right to belong,
In a world of loving kindness,
Yet truly,
I fear,
Your pain,
Is worse than ours.

Because, inside you know,
You toppled her,
You killed the Queen,
You chose to murder the Mother,
For your own convenience,
A moment of peace,
A position of power,
To rule the kingdom your way,
To have us follow,
Yet, you have failed.

It takes two to tango,
One man dancing alone,
Swinging his dick,
Like a disco queen,
Ain’t romantic,
Or sexy, either,
Devoid of a woman’s passion,
Electricity
Fire,
Creativity
Sensuality and
Wild abandon.

Endless emotion,
Sweetness,
Softness,
Connection,
Explosive desire,
And, most obviously,
Heart,
No-one desires to dance alone,
Yet, you’ve made it so,
Forcing us to abandon you,
So, now you’re waltzing solo.

And, what a mess you’re making,
Two steps when it should be one,
You’re limp,
When you need to be strong,
Your pace is pathetic,
Rather than poetic,
The music plays,
But it no longer moves you,
The strings scream at your heart,
Yet, the response is silence,
Sealed shut to emotion,
Like the lid of an ancient tomb.

Stuck in this darkness, we weep,
Mind, body, heart and soul,
Desperately praying for a saviour,
To come,
God, Jesus, Allah, anyone?
Someone who will rescue us from this,
But, they are all men,
Where, oh where is the Goddess?
Chastised,
Buried,
Forgotten.

Yet, we need her alive,
In the wombs of our sisters,
She lurks,
As a fox burrowed in its lair,
Waiting,
For What?
Now,
The time has come,
We cannot allow,
This anymore,
Not on our watch.

The hands of History,
Are quickly,
Changing direction,
Us and them,
No longer works,
Her story is needed,
It’s time to turn,
Me on its head,
So it becomes We,
Are in this together,
Called, loudly…

To unite,
Heal this pain,
His and Hers,
So that together,
We can co-create,
a Safer World.”

– Gemini Adams, 2018

#timesup #safeworldsummit #safeireland

Share here >>>>> https://www.wombsense.com/…/perils-of-the-patriarchy-timesup

In Honor of “One Billion Rising”…pass it on, post it, be it!

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If there is one thing I know….
It’s that WOMEN will lead the next revolution.

Men. It is time to be humble allies to the rise of the strong feminine. That healing will serve all of us, and it is necessary now more than ever. By working together.

“My Revolution Lives in my Body”
Written by Eve Ensler, Performed by Rosario Dawson

Feminism and the Election: The Gift of Acceleration by Kelly Brogan, MD and Louise Kuo Habakus

© Kelly Brogan MD. This work is reproduced and distributed with the permission of Kelly Brogan MD. For more articles, sign up for the newsletter at www.kellybroganmd.com

feminism-election-gift-acceleration_fearless-parent

Cars were at a 12 minute standstill and the traffic light repeatedly cycled green to red. In the streets, throngs of sign-toting New Yorkers were giving voice to their passion. There were tears and profanity. The waves of protesters streamed endlessly. “F**K TRUMP” was the choice mantra of this movement. The perplexed Nepalese driver turned and said in his broken English, “Why is dese womens mad? I know what woman is. Hillary has not even little kindly heart. She is no woman.”

The Candidate Archetypes

If we can zoom out and dispassionately examine the leading characters in this near-Shakespearean drama, we observe that there is a unique alchemy at play here. For the first time in US history, we have the Democratic Party — perceived as a heart-centered ideology — aligned with a female candidate, and the Republican Party — perceived as cold, self-interested pragmatists — aligned with not just a male candidate, but a caricature of rapacious patriarchy.

With the help of mainstream media’s carefully curated and theatrical representation of reductionist platitudes, an expected voting majority was led down the yellow brick road to meet Oz; Oz, in this case, being the redemptive victory of the first ever female president over this embarrassment of a Republican candidate.

As the media showcased Trump’s unscripted and uncensored boorish behavior, we watched women rally. They donned pantsuits. They exhorted each other towards unity in indignation (“Wake TF up! He’s disgusting. He hates disabled people! He’ll be the end of us all.”). They assembled in places like Wellesley College, desperately eager to bear witness to the piercing of the glass ceiling and usher in a new era. We watched as leading female celebrities campaigned to seize this moment in history.

Women all over this country needed Hillary to be the redemptor. To heal us. To right the wrongs and to confer a power we have felt stripped from us.

It’s only natural that women would look to a woman to help lead us home.

What happens when in our desperation for the solution to be simplified, we allow ourselves to be duped… when we can’t bear to scratch beneath the surface to recognize our projections and how we participate in our own co-option?

The Shackles of Old Feminism

Co-option? What? How?

Yes. It’s time to take a good hard look at a type of feminism that, practiced today, only serves to keep us indentured and arrested in our development as women.

Classical feminism is men versus women. It’s burning bras. It’s fighting for what’s ours. It’s throwing our lipstick away, gunning for every shred of external validation offered to men — from clothing to salary to parenting roles to frontline combat units. It’s “no thanks, I got the door for myself.” It’s even cultivating aggression and hate.

It may feel empowering. But when we engage feminism primarily from the masculine principle, it contributes further to our silent and chronic oppression.

Look at where playing the game has gotten us. One in four of us is medicated beyond any contact with our own souls, let alone our emotions or our psyches. We are neutered of our hormones, electively and passively, without true informed consent. We are placed in stirrups in our moment of awakening, strapped and commandeered by men (and women) who seek to control and dominate through fear. We shear off our breasts and slice out our ovaries and uteri (and vaccinate our babies) to be safe and smart according to industry-defined standards.

We have done this under the illusion of our sovereignty as we float more and more distantly away from creative power, from cosmic feminine energy, from the great divine mother of the Adi Shakti.

The Masculine Principle in Extremis

We know this old style of feminism because we’ve lived it.

So many of us women have been feminists in the masculine principle for years. Decades, actually. We have said “Anything you can do, I can do (better)…” We have looked for places to exercise force, totalitarian viewpoints, aggression, and righteousness through the lens of entitlements. We have seized on birth control as a feminist’s right; the elective c-section as the empowered and civilized choice; and the cervical cancer, human papillomavirus Gardasil vaccine as a preventive boon for women everywhere.

This kind of feminism is evidence of women divested of our own divinity, giving our power away to the perceived opposition. It is Stockholm syndrome at its worst.

We must get this.

When a woman who puts aside her fierce grace, her deep nurturance, her unparalleled powers of intuition, and her unique potential to create a collective, she becomes trapped in her masculine principle. There are many of us. But it is time to evolve. Let us explain…

The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Hillary Clinton represents our tendency to be appeased with exactly what keeps us imprisoned. She is not a feminist’s candidate though she may appear, in form, to be.

She is, in fact, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

What did that taxi driver mean by her absence of heart? Hillary is one, perhaps extreme, example of the illusion of feminine progress, with all of her masculine principle foregrounded and her shadow elements festering beneath the surface.

There are many examples of this. Watch this video interview of one of the true activists on this planet lays that case bare. And also consider where you get your information.

You won’t hear this true story from mainstream media, take it from us! When we rely on the mainstream media for our news, we fail to see the strings pulling on the marionettes as we take in the show. We may absorb the platitudes of party politics and the triumphalism of Hillary’s gender-busting candidacy. But we fail to see the Story of Separation, the subterranean hate, and the old model of feminism that she also represents. Sometimes, it’s hard to even entertain the possibility that what we want to believe and what is true may actually be in tense conflict.

To elect her because she has a vagina is a more aggressive act of sexism than it appears. It is a vote for stasis in this story, for the status quo. It is a vote for the world-destroying machine to which she is beholden. It’s why we women feel placated to have put a vaginal canal in the oval office. It’s the excitement and celebration of illusory gains while we drift farther away from our true prospects of healing.

The Wolf in Wolf’s Clothing

On the other hand, Trump is, indeed, a wolf in wolf’s clothing.

He is the crass womanizer, the ostentatious vulgarian, and the attention-seeking chauvinist. He is boastful, blunt, and rude… the embodiment of the patriarchal masculine exposed.

But the real gift in this moment in time is that we can look at what the unbalanced masculine is in a man and in a woman. And we can use this insight to reframe our expectations for what an empowered woman and national leader can and will be.

Maybe the system needs to fall apart so we can, together, begin to grow the tendrils of a new, better system to replace it.

In order to respond to this call to action, we need transparency. We can work with the wolf, particularly, if he is lone, without a pack of already deeply established industry and dynasty-level corporate and financial ties to Big Pharma, Big Chem, Big Ag, and Big Business. Think about how many liberties we have sacrificed in the name of “safety” — only to learn that the real danger lurks inside. That the fox is indeed guarding the henhouse. In many ways, the necessary change — environmental, consciousness, healing-based change — will come from the people, not from the president.

Here’s why we, and sacred activists like Bayo Akomolafe and Charles Eisenstein are saying that they felt this coming and that perhaps this needed to happen.

We all need to wake up. Sometimes Kali-esque destruction is a part of this process, and can catalyze the deepest forms of healing and regeneration. We need to activate the divine feminine to heal this planet.

Trump is something we can work with, push against, define ourselves through if we use the rupture of his election to ignite and channel latent energy. Sometimes the darkness reveals the path toward the light and invites more and more of us to walk it than would otherwise.

The Hurt is a Buried Treasure

The process that has been kicked off is one of a collective mourning. At the risk of generalization, those who are grieving today, wailing, and gnashing their teeth, are those whose hearts we need most enlivened to usher in the New Story. The grace in this is that people are now feeling.

As activists on behalf of women, families, and health freedom, we recognize this feeling because we have been peeking beneath the veil of the Mainstream Media narrative for collective decades.

We have felt what millions are feeling today, for a quite a long time.

It is, potentially, the first stage of true awakening to service to feel this deep ache inside. These emotions have been IN THERE all along, simmering and percolating and roiling. In our sisters, mothers, and aunts. In our girlfriends, wives, and daughters. The rage, the grief, the indignation, the rip roaring pissed off, seriously God dammit, I’m not taking it anymore, ENOUGH is ENOUGH line in the sand. But we’ve been sublimating these feelings for decades. We can count on two hands how many truly activated women we’ve walked this path with over the past several years.

After all, there’s been plenty of fuel to our fire. There are a lot of Establishment-engineered transgressions that could’ve woken all of us up. But many have been unaware or otherwise not set off by the knowledge that there is more to the story than meets the eye and a whole lot to be pissed about. We find ourselves in a place of seriously grave instability on this planet. It’s an instability that cuts to the core of all of our ecosystems from environmental to human to microbial. To begin with, we have:

So much is so wrong. We feel the pain of this inside and now maybe you do too, more consciously.

The anxiety, depression, and fear are palpable. We know that we are disconnected from something vital. Men and women alike have lost contact with the proverbial mother as we are divorced from our greater sense of recognition, safety, belonging, and love. We know this wound. It is a feminine wound. A community wound. A family wound.

But we also know, deep down that there is, indeed, a more beautiful world that we know is possible. And we look upon the tears and screams emerging today, in the wake of this election, with a feeling of expansive possibility for the women of the world.

The induced awakening of women nationwide will be a gift of acceleration to us as a planet. Trump is, perhaps, exactly what we need to wake women up to ourselves rather than to lead us to the celebration of our own continued captivity in a narrative that has no room for our divine feminine power.

Moving Into a New Feminism

It is time to move into the new feminism. Our feminism. The feminism that the world demands to heal today. It is not a warring posture, vaginas versus cocks. It’s not women who seek to mimic the dress, comportment, and energy of stereotypical men. It’s not the level playing field. It’s not “our turn.”

This new feminism takes a good hard look at our several thousand year history of divorce from community, matriarchy, and deep wisdom. It sees that our collective hurt must be owned and worked with and fully integrated for true healing. It understands that the most powerful force on this planet is a woman’s divine compass — a compass that only knows the feeling of the collective as one. It knows that we can shift out of our righteousness and into a place of core stability because we already have everything we need if we choose to trust it, feel it, and own it.

We women are working with the deepest powers of manifestation and creation known to this world. But we have given it away.

It’s time for a reclamation.

The reclamation is not a grabbing. It’s simply a radiating. It’s an energetic commitment to healing the self in service of healing the planet. Perhaps, as Regena Thomashauer says in her new book, we need to let our pussies (not our minds) lead the way out of victimhood and into radiance. Yes, this much maligned, abused, and despised part of us that we need only to reunite with as our most trusted connection to a power we have given away.

We must let the rage and pain move through us, come together in ritual, and then work creatively with the energy that only knows to see the other as self. To see each human as a cell in the greater organism. Uniquely, instructively essential.

Hillary has shown us what the old feminism looks like, mired in orthodox power structures, dogma, and non-integration. The new feminism is emboldened by possibilities herein. It is always curious and compelling, the gifts that pain and suffering will bring if we let them flow to the surface, swirl around, and transform us in the crucible of a heart-centered consciousness. If we do this, together… if we let the seeds planted by this election grow, they will yield the leaders, healers, and true earth-bound revolutionaries who will ready us for the New Story in ways that are not yet made apparent by the current binary system of options.

Perhaps the wolf in wolf’s clothing will inadvertently and even unintentionally heal the entire landscape.

 

Kelly Brogan, MD

Kelly Brogan, M.D. is a Manhattan-based holistic women’s health psychiatrist, author of the New York Times bestselling book, A Mind of Your Own, and co-editor of the landmark textbook, Integrative Therapies for Depression. She completed her psychiatric training and fellowship at NYU Medical Center after graduating from Cornell University Medical College, and has a B.S. from MIT in Systems Neuroscience. View full bio. Want to share this article on your own blog? View our reposting guidelines.