Uncategorized

Gaia The Traumatised Goddess

 

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It’s my shadow.

 

Last year I wrote The Story of the Broken Goddess. As like most of my blogs it was largely about me. My process, my journey. Over the last year I have been exploring deeply how the micro informs the macro, right down to discovering the term Systemic Trauma. The term Systemic Trauma has liberated me from a lifetime of confusion and gaslighting. Where it is obvious that almost everything in the human world is not as it should be.

That the spiritual belief systems that we are sold as children of peace and love are totally out of odds with the current forces that drive our human world. That greed and acquisition in no way lead to human harmony or even better quality of life. Instead, they leave us on a never-ending trail of consumption of first things and then experience in the hope of hitting the high notes of the emotional human experiences as illustrated in The Story of Stuff. Currently, most human life can be predicted by one succinct dopamine hit after another. We have become nothing more than hedonistic thrill seekers, where even a death to-do list has not escaped our quest of human experience. We always have to be somewhere else to be comfortable. Whatever happened to be here now and honouring our lifestyle choices, that this is indeed good enough? That a sense of worth and the value of human connection around us might be all we need. Right now that is exactly where we are. I live with the deepest hope this is something the human world is now beginning to fully appreciate as part of The Great Pause.

The human world is in crisis and not the planetary system that has supported human life for aeons. It is the human life choices that have come deeply into question in the passing weeks and not the value of our Earthly environment. In fact, being locked in our personally designed human environments must have brought much of human existence into the stark realisation of what there chosen life, that has been successfully enforced by the propaganda of a greedy system.

For years now I have been doing my best to understand what it would take to heal humans of their instinctual blindness and indeed what might be the attitudinal cause of the laissez-faire attitudes, as the thousands of miles of concrete consume our mother Gaia. That fairer humans have been endlessly trying to outrun like The Lost Shamans of Scotland.

It’s easy to say that the world is broken. It’s easy to say that we have offended and brutalised mother earth and that she is fighting back. It’s also easy to believe that everything will go back to normal and that human life will resume unaltered. Where we will be able to travel again. Where we will get right back to poisoning the planet as usual. The harder part is saying the human world is broken and that I was a human have played a role, by disengaging in my own emotional journey, ignoring my family or disengaging in community success. Of course, there are always greater forces outside of us to overcome, the business agenda of greed, the power of corporations and the ineptitude of government and even our internal will to change.

In case you didn’t know already we are paddling ever further into the new age of Aquarius which places humanity at its centre. The times truly are a-changing. The divine feminine continues to be on the rise with Gaia’s resurgence that seems to come hand in hand with the Kali the destroyer; specifically in this case of men. These times seem to be a time of prophecy where myth, legend and even the biblical seem to be more applicable and indeed useful than the fodder and spin of the daily media.

Things are very clearly changing and I have been using this time to continue and deepen my spiritual quest, looking into the mythological histories of Scotland, learning about the Cailleach Bheur. A hag creator goddess who seems to personify winter and fight spring. The more I read about the Cailleach. The more this creator goddess seem to ring true with the singing of my soul in the 3D realm. That Gaia herself maybe a Cailleach and in fact be Kali herself with another name? The creator stories seem to be guiding us all now as we search for the deeper meaning in all of this as we are all collectively figuring out what we are actually doing here in human form on planet Earth at this time?

So very few of us are living the old ways connected to our histories and our lineages. It’s all become tartan and bagpipes and a wee nod to what once was. All this as I personally push through the weight of my own ancestral healing decolonising what is known with what has been lost. It all seems to be making perfect sense now just as the whole world seems to have gone bonkers. Or is it that Karma takes time to take its toll. You see if you’ve done the work this period isn’t a challenge. We shouldn’t have to consume our lives to be well.  We have everything we need and we need to wake up each morning and be grateful for that.

You see one of the core elements of trauma is that if we don’t heal it we transfer it onto other people. Through relationships, intergenerationally and even ancestrally, where we often don’t know what is our trauma and what is somebody elses? We as a species have taken our trauma to a whole new level and displaced onto a planet. It’s easy to both imagine and personify a planet, that it might have feelings, opinions and even responses to our parasitical behaviour. When our parasitical behaviour simultaneously extracts and pollutes using some of the Earth’s greatest gift against her. There is literally only so long that you can gaslight a planet (literally). What kind of toxic system are we in that the source of our nurturance is both, exploited,  objectified and commodified. Isn’t this the story of woman herself? Birthing creation only to have it abandon and destroy her. It’s no way to live and so here we are. Watching the domestic abuse cases rise globally as the lockdown takes its toll. Bringing into stark contrast what can and can’t be tolerated in confinement. That we have finally got to sort our shit out. On the micro and the macro and that is why suddenly we are all being homeschooled, only to discover that we aren’t sure what the lessons mean. There is so much now that is suddenly superfluous. Lives of excess are traumatic. Lives of disconnection are traumatic. Lives of isolation are traumatic. Lives indoors are traumatic. Which begs the question not just what are we doing here but what have we been doing here. When it is obvious that our only asset is life itself? Even Louis Vuitton realised that hand sanitiser was more important than handbags early on in the game. Yet most of us are trailing behind this realisation and lamenting our chipped nails.

Whether the Covid 19 started in a lab, mutated from a pangolin or is indeed caused by 5G. I consider sentient forces all using the phrase “I let go of that which no longer serves me” As we all seem to be surrendering to the universal breath of this collective shadow work. That may be our collective summoning of what is best for us has led us exactly here? That is our heightened sense of separation we understand what actually has the ability to fall away. Maybe it’s a whole species, even entire behaviours and possibilities? I baulk at the idea that we might mourn entire industries. Somewhere in the swathes of information, I’ve been deciphering, I heard that we don’t fully let go of and old branch until a new one has appeared. Right now it’s so exciting just to consider us all dangling like wild monkeys trying to figure out what is the best next move as our instinctual responses get the better of us. Maybe we aren’t waiting for a branch? We are waiting for an eagle to take us far above what we have known before.

Mother Gaia and a cohort of beings and indeed beingness have been waiting for us to listen and listen we must with no question and no answer.

 

Process, Uncategorized

Emotional Labour, Community Activism, Boundaries and The Rise of the Divine Feminine

IMG-4499This year it feels like I’ve taken a crash course in all of the above. I’m also feeling pretty proud of myself in the process.  For the first time in the history of my own community activism, I have refused to take on other peoples shit. True Story.

Emotional Labour is the work of me, The Life Doula. I create space, I hold space and I offer up time as if it is an infinite resource and utilising a lost healing magic that seems to have been long forgotten in the realms of 21st-century healing. You can’t hack everything. It is at the very moment we can become grateful for the ageing process, proud of the whispy grey hairs and that wisdom usually has to be earned.

The truth is that Emotional Labour is, for the most part, the work of women. The absorbing, the explaining, the understanding, the coaxing and sustaining of families and communities. It’s the care of the dying, the nurturing of children, the comforting of the ill and distressed and the perpetual maintenance of the household. It’s also the commitment to healing, healing ourselves to be of better service. Healing our selves to create better homes, stronger families and resilient communities and yet so little of this work are appreciated and honoured even though it is the very stuff of life.

These days as healers and let’s be honest here as women we now have to resolve to set boundaries for ourselves. We have to decide to take care of ourselves first, heal our selves first before we ever hope to have a deeper impact on the world at large, even though there is so much to heal. Too often now I have had the call to action. “Kimberley we need your help” and too often now I have learned that the help I have to offer is mistaken for something else. That somehow I can do the work for you. That by me showing up and listening to the problem at hand is a cure and that due to my caring nature I might be willing to solve the problem by taking on the role of community enabler. That I will be project manager, researcher, facilitator,  admin assistant,  fundraiser and counsellor. All for free of course.

The answer is I can and I won’t. The truth is my house isn’t in order. I expect too much from hurt people. The best remedy I have for this is, of course, is getting back to the drawing board and straight back into dharma. Chopping water and fetching wood, figuring out where the mix up happened and re-committing to healing myself first, loving myself best and serving reason from a cup that radiates joy.

The age of Aquarius is here. The divine feminine is on the rise and emotional mastery is calling to us. Nurturance is key and taking on the emotional labour of others is over. Nothing is disposable. The energy we put out into the world is the energy we get back. After all, it’s the circle of life.

Process, Uncategorized

The Story of The Broken Goddess

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Maybe it’s the whole point this picture so isn’t me. Black dress red high heels and yet it has on occasion been who I have projected. The Femme Fatale (not really) The toxic masculine idea of the divine feminine, maybe.

It started with the idea of keeping a blog called The Engaged Life, that was supposed to document, chart and consolidate the process of getting married. To use it as a learning tool and create a narrative that teaches. The only challenge was that the narrative quickly sped out of control and I was spinning.

Being a Bride is fucked up, not least because it’s a modern falsehood built on the idea of purity. It caused me problems. As I think on it now it makes me think of the painting of Lady Jane Grey by Paul Delaroche. Lady Jane Gray was a young English noble who was married off in an alliance that would make her the shortest reigning English monarch. S Lady Jane Grey was Queen for 9 days and was removed from the throne was later beheaded for treason along with her young husband. The painting depicts her in a white dress being helped to the executioners block blindfolded and most importantly in a white dress. 1077px-PAUL_DELAROCHE_-_Ejecución_de_Lady_Jane_Grey_(National_Gallery_de_Londres,_1834)

It’s a rough analogy I know; for being a Bride. I’m sad to say it’s how I felt and in moments even worse. For many of us, our wedding is some how meant to encapsulate all we are as women. It’s based on the idea that someone else should adore us enough to offer that validation, which all of us know on a spiritual path know is absolutely fucked. How do we get someone to love us that much if we don’t align with the idea of purity not only that how do we honour this idea when it’s all about somebody else feelings for you?

I’ve struggled with this, all of this, and much much more and i”m still wondering at it all. About what society think and why we are hell-bent on creating such unrealistic expectations of ourselves? To be young, to be beautiful and most of all that these are the qualities on which we as women are supposed to be honoured. When most of the women that I know have radically transformed themselves beyond the ideas of the maiden by the time they get married these days. That we are no longer sacrificial virgins, we’re just supposed to look like one. I’m glad to believe that ideas of the divine feminine are rapidly changing. That there are now hopefully a whole generation of young girls and young women that no longer seek to define themselves by these rules. Yet is it changing rapidly enough?

If Instagram is anything to go by not really and yet at the same time maybe? Ideas of perfection are crippling and self-harm rates among young women are on the rise as Instagram is suspected to be part of the cause. The perfect photo, the perfect body and the strange face smoothing filters that are just creepy. Yet, on the other hand, Instagram gives us a voice and the opportunity to honour ourselves, see our own value and write stories that represent us in all our messyness, rather than the picture perfect lives that we are supposed to be living. That our feeling matter and the idea of the female muse are quickly fading as the community Boyfriends of Insta suggests.  That men too are supposed to glorify women for nothing more than their looks in beautiful locations presenting fantastical ideas of self-love; when in fact the photos are endlessly supported by someone other than ourselves. That somehow we need to be endorsed. I can’t figure out if it’s radical subversion of the concept of the gaze or a perversion of it? That women are still buying into the masculine control of the gaze. absorbing and adopting it as part of a toxic masculine framework. That they too believe that beauty is their only value. The self-harm epidemic certainly seems to suggest so.

Where does that leave us? Much like my idea of a blog called The Engaged Life, very confused, especially as women who straddle the new and old paradigms.

What alarms me personally most is…..that I did not grow up with body image issues. admittedly I’ve largely been quite slim and fairly attractive so why would I? Maybe this is the quandary of the older Bride and all that means. You think being an older Bride would offer you more confidence and control. Where in fact I found the opposite trying to live up to value and beliefs that had outgrown me, that my twenty-something self would have relished. It makes me believe that the worshipping of the maiden has to take on a different form. Develop its own ritual and Brides should be left to focus on the important things, marriage and the transitioning of families. The story has to change. Brides are not sacrificial offerings. They are Queens creating their own Queendoms.