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!

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

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

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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

Stages of Healing the Wounded Feminine: Dissolving the Scars of Patriarchal Abuse “Part I: The Wound” by Anyaa McAndrew

The Sacred Feminine, the Empowered Feminine, the Divine Feminine. These words evoke images of a large luminous being, goddess-like, regal, and leading the way to new world, to heaven on earth. Her radiance would cause all war to cease, and the feminine principles of compassion, cooperation and community would prevail. All beings would live in harmony with nature.

Thanks to first and second-wave feminism, through the efforts of the earlier suffrage movement, and the feminism of 30-40 years ago and now third-wave feminism of today, the feminine has been somewhat restored. Women now enjoy some measure of equality and respect. At the time I write this, Senator Hillary Clinton is one of the candidates for the Democratic nomination for the presidency of the U.S; a remarkable feat when we consider that the fate of women in the 50’s was to choose housewife, mother, nurse, teacher, factory worker, sex worker, or mistress as their life purpose.

Women in general are full of themselves these days; full of power, authority, self-confidence, self-esteem and self-love. I love working with women to facilitate this fullness! We’ve come a long way, baby! Many of our gains have come from our courage to move forward and take risks to be more than our mothers, to find a bigger Self among the remains of previous generations.

My personal experience is that women are infinitely creative, yet practical when it comes to getting what they need to take care of themselves and their children. When given the insight and the opportunity, they can be even more creative and determined when it comes to climbing out of bad relationships, stuck patterns and old paradigms. Perhaps this is because we have been shut up and shut down for the last two to five thousand years of patriarchy, under threat of rape, and worse. We understand what it means to be patient, to bide our time, and then venture forth when the coast is clear. The coast has been clearer than anybody can remember, but there are still some big shifts to make. Continue reading “Stages of Healing the Wounded Feminine: Dissolving the Scars of Patriarchal Abuse “Part I: The Wound” by Anyaa McAndrew”