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Upon Waking, After MANIFEST, A Letter

acellis3

Dear Inspiring, beautiful women,


Self-healing warriors, simultaneously soft and hard, brave, seeking vibrancy. 


I feel honored and humbled that you chose to venture out into discomfort, rain and cold waters, with new faces, to gather with us. I feel honored to serve you in the ways I can. 


Upon leaving, I felt full. Like my soul had been thirsty and left sated. But I wondered if you all felt what I felt. I began to question myself. I hadn’t spoken about even half of what I had planned to. I was fully living in the present moment with you all, absorbing the communal energy as a peer, and I worried I hadn’t given you enough. That I hadn’t shown up enough for you, given you all I had wanted to give.


In the fire, I had burned up this worry. Why was it reemerging so quickly? 


Old patterns die HARD, you all. That’s why. My old narratives of not being good enough, not giving enough, is one I constantly strive to interrupt and prove wrong. So, If you too find the thing which you desire to release from yourself resurfaces, know that you are doing the work of letting it go, and the work doesn’t end, and it may take burning it up in your belly-fire over and over until it becomes merely ash. It takes time consistently rejecting it. 


Just as helping grow the parts of you and your life you wish to see bloom and thrive takes consistent effort, tending, and intention, over and over to see a real transformation in the way you BE in the world, both physically and mentally. 


I feel my creative potential. I am living in my authentic truth. We all found a part of us last night that is asking for meaningful action, and we left with that one focus in mind for this moon cycle-- Playfulness, cultivating identity, creative projects both artistic and personal, physical and mental. Getting stronger in heart, in body, in mind.


And so, I write this letter of INSPIRED gratitude to you, women of my heart, self healers, earth shakers, loving mothers, badass warriors– because we are showing up for ourselves, together, and your presence enriched my life.


Oh Hell yes we can do hard things.


Included is our poem meditation The Spider Playing the House

-RUMI


A Spider Playing in the House


Eyesight becomes a vision

after a meeting with the Friend.


Another seeing rises behind the eyes

and looks out through the eyes.


This does not happen to a fool.

A fool looks at deadly poison

and sees candy for an idle moment.


What he claims is the obvious road to take

Is really the mockery-scream of a ghoul

devouring his ancestors!


A simple, open sky is sometimes

an unsterile lancet

that will give you an infection.


Dear sky, learn mercy.

Change your revolving.


You fed us when we were young,

with the beauty of weather,

and with your fire-baskets,

the star-lanterns, that never

seem to need oil.


Materialists think that you have always existed,

Sweet sky, but mystics know your beginnings,

and the prophets have taken us beyond sky-worship.


A spider that plays in a house

does not understand how, or even if,

the house was built, but a man does,

even if he does not know exactly when,

or precisely the name of the builder.


He doesn’t need to spin

a lot of theological cobwebs.


A gnat has no idea who dug and planted

the garden, a gnat born in late spring,

who dies in early fall, or sooner.


A grubworm living in a rotten board

knows nothing of the tree when it was a sapling,

or if the worm does know something,

it would come from the essential intellect

in all existence and not from the worm-form.


There are many guises for intelligence.

One part of you is gliding in a high windstream,

while your more ordinary notions

take little steps and peck at the ground.


Conventional knowledge is death

To our souls, and it is not really ours.


It’s laid on. Yet we keep saying

That we find “rest” in these “beliefs”.


We must become ignorant

Of what we’ve been taught,

and be, instead, bewildered.


Run from what’s profitable and comfortable.

If you drink those liqueurs, you’ll spill

the springwater of your real life.


Distrust anyone who praises you.

Give you investment money,

and the interest on the capital,

to those who are actually destitute.


Forget safety.

Live where you fear to live.

Destroy your reputation.

Be notorious.


I have tried prudent planning

long enough. From now

on, I’ll be mad.




I hope to see your faces again next full moon in July, when I will share the other various things I wish to share with you, and Rea will work her energetic magic. There is SO MUCH to give each other. Thank you for trusting me, and letting me in.


Love, Amber

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