It is only now, a week and a half after the actual experience that I can feel myself, breathe, and look back at the true gift of grieving.
Grieving has never been a thing for me, and yet it has always been around. I feel all of us have deep sadness, from this and other lifetimes, and also carried in the blood from all of our lineages, ancestors, and beyond.
We all carry darkness and pain, a deep and throbbing sensation that carries itself in marvelous disguises, hides in secret caves in the crevices between the breaths. We are wolves, and we have forgotten how to howl.
When I met the space that was held for me to grieve, as I started I slowly controlled the soft sounds that escaped me, like a well-orchestrated piece.
Then slowly, carried by the beat of strong wombyn with strong drums, I began to fall apart. Like a mountainside, I crumbled. All the walls that I spent so long meticulously building to keep me in, to hold these undulating waters, these rivers of emotions that do not sparkle like sunkissed streams. No, they are far darker a color and bear nothing but the darkness of depth.
My inner jaguar moved in sounds and songs not heard by many human ears. The fury that escaped our tongues in that circle, surrounded by dusk and stardust, will never be forgotten.
Our screaming songs and our shivering bodies, no longer afraid to give it all up, to the moon, to the earth, to the stars. We have carried this pain across the earth, millions of migrations, pilgrimaged to the ends of the earth that begin again and again. Our pain.
And like that it came and it went, like a wind howling through the hollowness of earth, like a cave, an instrument of the divine.
Space. To make space, to feel space, to be spacious. What a gift to sing those old songs to the river and watch them be carried along on her song, bubble by bubble, tide by tide, stone by stone. Churning magick.
And with this space I invite the divine to dive in, be me, show me, love me. I feel inspired as I gaze upon my obsidian heart, and see images of buffalo running wild across the plains of time.
Thank you, I see you, I love you.