I know your body is tired. But the road ahead is beautiful. Trust me. It not just like any road. It is your own. Your path. Your journey. It is where you are going to put all of you and your soul and your feet too.
Today and tomorrow and the other days you will be on this earth. Whether you are aware of it, you were chosen for that path and only that path. You are the only one to be able to walk it. That exact path. That exact journey. Filled with pain, filled with sorrow, filled with questions and most of times no answers…
You are strong. I know that. You know that. But sometimes you feel despair. Grief. Anger. I see that.
You often ask yourself why. What does this mean? How did I get here?
But remember. Like a stream, like a river, like the flow of water, you are fluid. Don’t forget we are all on our way back home. Back to ourselves. Back to letting our whole being be whatever it wants to be. Back to our anger too.
Follow the river. Follow your truth.
Sacred knowledge runs through our veins, through our heart. Spirit is powerful and sacred. You don’t know how to yet, but you can call on spirit. You can pray.
Learn how to pray. This is so important! You will learn that soon. You can build an altar. An altar will make you practice praying. Build an altar with all your tired body parts.
Take off your skin; it has absorbed so much already.
Take off our eyes; they have seen a lot.
Take off our feet; they have walked you this far, maybe they need to rest.
Take off your hands too. They have done amazing things. Important things. They wrote, they created, they pushed, they cooked, they fed, they cuddled, they made things, incredible things. Small things. Big things. They built, they washed, they cleansed, they wiped, they smudged, they held. Oh yes, they held. They held much. They held a lot.
Now is the time has come to put your hands down, they need to rest too.
Intergenerational ancestral stories of grief and rage and wounds have come to you in the shape of worries, of pain, of high blood pressure, of swollen lymph nodes and inflammatory diseases and so many other stuff you are not really aware of.
Sickness.
I am reading an incredible book these days: Gabor Mate´s The Myth of Normal. It says all this and so much more.
Sickness is your knowing in the world. Sickness is the living proof of everything that happened. Sickness seeks to say : I am here. I am still here. It seeks to say : Look at my beautiful wounds.
Often, my ancestors are watching me weep while I try again and again to draw my family tree. I weep because there are more empty space than names. I weep because there are more holes and I don’t know their stories. I weep and I fall asleep. I am exhausted.
Dear Ancestors, Can you bring me back home?
Can you show me the way through the wind?
Can you lead me through the mud?
Can you help me breathe underwater?
As always so powerfully evocative and beautiful. Your expressions through poem always leave me feeling less alone and realizing there are others out there who understand. 🙏🏻
Thank you, Sage 🙏 I am still reading but what I have read so far has really touched me. It also inspired me to post something in the chat that I had written this morning. I was feeling ambivalent about sharing it, but when I read what you wrote somehow it felt like it would be ok to post. The collage is incredible.