Redefining the mother. The nurturer. The conjure woman. The safe space. The portal.
The child in a woman's body- rebirthed to make peace with the healing from within.
We were created to create.
It's human nature. The way we look for other people to identity with us. It's tribal of us to want that approval from those we deem omnipotent. As precious as the thought may be, living that way was doing a great disservice to my spirit.
So one day, I just gave up.
Let me go back a bit, to the young bright eyed dewy girl I don't connect with in the pictures, before I knew what to make of my surroundings ; before I had realized I lost the very thing that made me, me. My magic, my super powers all took a back seat the day my innocence was persuaded from my grasp.
I was 13 when I landed myself in waters I could not weather. He was 23, and easily cunning. I spent most of my life wondering, had I never identified as Christian- had I never identified myself as pure or righteous, would I have been a target. All this man had to do is ask for it by name and I blew my whole understanding of life away and handed it to him. The pressure to deal with personal matters in private was a masking I learned watching so many other women strap up around me. I eventually traveled in a time warp- bodies after bodies, wombs after wounds- by the time I realized I needed to love me- she was dripping in unfamiliarities. So how do I learn to re-identify after losing a me I never had the chance to know?
How may I pour some magic onto my own heart? How do I recover the healer from within?
I spent many years under that spell. Too many moments unaccounted for dismissing myself with the need to belong to something. I have tried to identity as free and spirited which, I now know you have to know your spirit in order to free it. And in coming into my own power, I learned that every single thing I need I have within.
As a child the elders would identity me as "wise" or "beyond her years" and that quickly
grew into "too grown" or "fast" the moment my ideas could not be contained in their tight margins. called fast, as if being quick to recover from anything was ever a illness. young girls are too accustomed to hearing that being true to her experience , works better as a scold. So I would set to identity as wise or mature when in all reality I was teetering on being too dumb to listen and too naive to learn.
They say, most spiritual transformations are ignited by a near death or a revealing experience. In 2011 I found myself in a hospital bed after being physically ejected from a moving vehicle, by someone I set love. That is when it hits me, literally. Maybe it was the impact of my head hitting the asphalt. Maybe it was set headlights that never left my nightmares. Maybe it had finally hit me that the out pour my love, my empathy needed to coat me and it needed to start FAST. because if it didn't, I wouldn't have a story to share. My will to live exceeded my instinct to survive. Some real sense had been knocked into me that night. When you are forced to sit in solitude to heal your soul, you do not have to search outside of yourself for any healing. What I had learn was to deconstruct my ideas around what living truly meant.
Creating the experience I want vs Accepting a life I've been given.
I've watched many turn grapes in wine, My mother turn tears into full course meals. I have made sweetness out of the ruins that almost became my life. I have seen my power. My own hands have turned lemons into lemonade.
I am a Brown, femme as fuck, juju in my bra-mystic, wonderer and mothership to one Sirius dude. The mother is all things. Both whole and broken- master and student simultaneously.
I am still finding my way as a vessel of love and light. Truth chaser and self love activist. Sensualist by radical design- black Bruja from Yonkers NY, turned hopeful in -the-taking- residing in Philadelphia, PA.