Come, my sister, the time for waiting is over. We can no longer sit silently wasting away in our little boxes on the hillsides waiting for someone else to open the door, for someone to show us the way, to pull us up, to save us from ourselves. All the while the earth withers and shakes from its wounding and its raping. All the while the wars rage and the people die. Our children contemplate constructing a box of their own. The question marks multiplying above their tiny heads as they ponder how to be more like mama.


We can’t afford more wringing of our hands, more disconnected going back to sleep. The gong has sounded. It shouts to us to Wake up. Wake Up. Wake UP.


We have forgotten our wild ways.  The time when our souls were full and our hearts open wide. We’ve retreated into our false prisons and misplaced the keys. We don’t recall when we last saw the jailer or how long we’ve been serving time. The days pass by in an unconscious puddle of motions, events, and interactions we can’t even recall.


But then a strange sound stirs us from our stupor. We hear a jangling. Metal on metal. Movement somewhere down the way. We rise and come to the cell door. Craning our neck to see if we can catch a glimpse of this break from the status quo. And then slowly, tentatively a door opens far along the row. The hinges creak. The rust crumbles to the floor, and a thin, pale Soul emerges from her darkness. She treads lightly along the hall making her way toward the sunshine. The others become restless as she passes by. Contemplating her freedom and wondering about their own. One leans against her own cell door as she bows her head to wonder, and ever so slightly her door gives way and a sliver of daylight floods her chamber. The fresh air caresses her heart and she extends her hand to push the door further open. She steps forward into the space. Exploring this new freedom she has created.


And one by one they remember that it was they who fled to these false homes that seemed like safety.  They pulled the doors tight closed and hid the keys deep in their own pockets. They took a potion of deep forgetting and closed their eyes to sleep. It has been a long winter’s nap.


But the reawakening has commenced. The shedding of the shackles has begun.


Rise, sister and join the re-wilding. We have work to do. It is time.

1 comment

  • Lizette Araujo

    I feel like your talking to me……..

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