ancestors

GaLIA ALENA :: LUNA CARD STORIES

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I died as a mineral and became a plant;

I died as a plant and rose to animal;

I died as animal and I was a man.

Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?

Rumi

 

I’m in a holding pattern. I’m holding too much, way too much, I hold it so tight that I’m almost crushing it, crushing myself. And it feels so heavy.

Holding on too tight to things that are impossible to hold- life, this moment, today, the past. 

I’m looking for the strength to let it all go, to lay it down to rest, to release it for it is not mine to hold, it never was.

I’m looking for the love and trust to say goodbye, to let it all go.

 

I’m dreaming of a lightness. I’m dreaming of things moving through and out, of twirling and dancing with the moment instead of trying to hold it. I’m dreaming of rest, of feeling fully supported in each moment- I don’t need to do the supporting.

 

I shut my eyes, I feel the earth beneath my feet, she’s soft and warm and willing. She whispers to me to lay it all down. I hesitate, but I know its time. I kiss all the things I’ve been holding, holding way too tight, and I give them over to her, I give them over to the earth where they belong. I place them on the ground and she receives them with such grace, I feel her smiling. She takes it all.

 

I feel the space created, I feel expanded. I sit awhile listening to her sigh- the breath of mama earth. I watch all the things she supports, I see flowers bloom and fade, I see leaves sprout and fall, I see all the life she holds in her depths. I see seasons come and go- she inhales, and she exhales.

 

And she too is supported. The stars, the moon, the sun, they support her- moving rhythmically with her inhale and exhale and I barely in a breath.

 

I inhale, hold, release, let go, empty, expanded, expectant, I inhale and so it goes.

 

“This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.” – Rumi

 

Transient gifts of such wonder. We die with each moment so we may live into the next.

 

A million deaths in this life, a million moments to treasure, to breath in and live into, to exhale and release. Bittersweet cycles of life that teach us the beauty in each delicate moment. The dying in order to be reborn, renewed. The releasing in order to be expanded.  The composting and fertilising, the transformation and metamorphosis, the spiralling, cyclic spinning of life. And in it all the humbling of ourselves into what is so ready to support us for we too are just an exhalation.

 

“Maybe death isn’t darkness, after all, but so much light wrapping itself around us.” ~ Mary Oliver


galia alena. visual poet. beauty unveiler, light huntress, moment caresser, visionary.

Join Galia for Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, Beloved Daughter, Goddess of Innocence and Growth, Hope

She intrigues me no end, this Queen of the Underworld and maiden Goddess of
Spring. Underestimated and over looked, dismissed as victim, child, pawn in the stories of others yet she is one who moves effortlessly between worlds, and dances in both the light and the shadow. She embodies the movements of life and death with such grace and isn’t scared to shadow mine. Dark feminine goddess, Goddess of Transformation, her gifts are as bountiful as the Spring she heralds.

♥  Shadow Mining
♥  Cycles
♥  Integration
♥  Rebirth & Transformation

We begin full moon in Scorpio Xx 

http://galiaalena.blogspot.com                           http://galiaalena.com

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{THE LIVING HOME} VIGNETTE :: FUZZY. FALLISH. TOFFEE.

  image :: tumblr

image :: tumblr

  image :: icliving.com

image :: icliving.com

 image + recipe @ ladyandpups.com

image + recipe @ ladyandpups.com

Make home in a day of contrasts. Seek a bit of the wet & mauve-isn underworld. Leave an offering of sweet nothings whispered to dropping leaves. Stack an indoor hammock with woolen throws. Deep dive into the New Moon in Scorpio feelings armed with pancakes + toffee

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INSIDE #BRIGHTLIVELIHOOD :: ZOE TRYON & NINA GUALINGA

ZOE TRYON + NINA GUALINGA. AMAZON ACTIVISTS. BELOVED EMPRESS TIDES SISTERS. 

{Each week we give you a glimpse into MOONRISE|13 by highlighting the work of beloveds from our real-life community of creative Earth, culture & community keepers.}

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ANGELIQUE ARROYO :: SACRED BOUNDARIES. PART 4

 *Publisher's Note: We are thrilled to share this *free* thinking toolkit, a lunar year of Sacred Boundaries shared weekly, grounded in Angelique's many years as an activist, herbalist, community trainer, and SisterKeeper. She's a medical advocate for sexual assault victims, social justice & anti-racism facilitator, holding monthly Red Tents & the online School for Medicine Womyn.  More than this, Angelique is a dear friend that has fiercely supported our global community sisterhood, for years, now. This is family medicine. *Weekly* -M

*Publisher's Note: We are thrilled to share this *free* thinking toolkit, a lunar year of Sacred Boundaries shared weekly, grounded in Angelique's many years as an activist, herbalist, community trainer, and SisterKeeper. She's a medical advocate for sexual assault victims, social justice & anti-racism facilitator, holding monthly Red Tents & the online School for Medicine Womyn.  More than this, Angelique is a dear friend that has fiercely supported our global community sisterhood, for years, now. This is family medicine. *Weekly*
-M

 

Sacred Boundaries For Self

 

We’ve been engaged in sacred boundaries in the sphere of the sacred, last time you created a collage that maps where you are at. In my work as an activisionary we talk about what it would look like to live outside of the striving/or the struggle. This very time driven existence that demands that we stick every experience into a formula for action, how do we unplug from that very formulaic why into the beingness of our own experience. I often share with folks when I provide a structure for movement that if it prevents you from actually doing it, drop it. Let it go. While parts of our human experience desire to name and label, it is not always in our best interest. Can you engage and set boundaries around the sacred for its own sake, without a prefabricated trending agenda? Can you dance in the tension of creating space for the unknown to be nourished? Why unknown? Because you can’t assign a name to that which has many and is none. In that space you will find solace and fullness because it holds capacity for all of you. 

 

I recommend you put together all these parts and read it again but all at once. When you are done…gather your sacred space making tools, be sure to ground and plug in. Grounding through your root chakra and plugging in through your crown, this stabilizes movement as energy and messages flow. When ready engage in the following questions…allow silence and stillness.

 

What have the boundaries around your practice in relationship to the sacred been?

 

What is in need of repair and reframing? Listen for what the essence in you needs at this season for nourishment..these messages come not from the thought but from plugging into the sacred current. 

 

What is coming up?…I imagine this piece of myself as a being and I often start with a teary I’m so sorry, I love you. This happens because I recognize that for me it can get so busy and move so fast. There are times I choose the busy over the slow..over the sacred, ”I can’t stop this must get done”. Or sometimes the plan gets in the way and that is when I know, I need to let go. My offering are my tears and a heart hungry to just sit and be. 

 

I Wait

I wait for you at the edges

I watch in tearful expectation, maybe today

Maybe today you’ll be with me…

I don’t want you to do..anything, just be with me

When you lay down exhausted and feel a warm sensation envelope you, that’s me loving on you

I don’t fit into the boxes or the list, or the next asana sequence  

I’m the hunger inside that makes you cry at mountains and weep at flowers

I watch you as you try to learn some new way to engage me..but all I want is for you to be with me

I have the answers you’re looking for

I’ve tried to tell you they are within

What am I? I am the galaxy in a cell 

I am the rush of rivers

I am the ecstasy in the release of an orgasm

I am the breath of a baby

I am night sky

I am the sunrise

I am the twinge in your chest that squeezes tight at the morning light

I am waiting for you….

I am the essence that holds the secrets of the universe and I dwell in you

I wait 

 

Now go into your Moonrise planner and plug in the space to meet with your sacred essence and guard those boundaries. This is very important…if you need to put up mantras or prayers to remind you of the why this matters, do so. And when not if, but when you loose your way and the rush of the day takes over…come repair your boundaries and mend the fence. Come home.

 

Next stop Sacred Boundaries for Self….xo


Angelique Arroyo Medicine Womyn: Guidess, Healer + ActiVisionary

Phone: 7172952547
Email: SchoolforMedicineWomyn@gmail.com
Website: www.AngeliqueArroyo.com

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FOR OUR GRANDMOTHERS. BY MARYBETH BONFIGLIO

As the summer sun begins to wane, I think of death.

Not just because the moon begins to reign and the leaves are already falling on the ground in layers of crunch, but because I am taken deeper into my own mythologies. I am asked to look within and sit face to face with the stories I have been telling myself in the season of this sun. 

As I go in, I get closer to all things.  What was laid to rest behind me.  And what is laying itself out in front of me.  And where I am right now.

I get closer to who I am, but also closer to those whose bones and blood have brought me here.  I get to listen to the grandmother’s song inside me. Awakening. 

* * * 

I have never met my grandmothers.  This is a loss I cannot explain and do not have words for. I hear stories that my many siblings tell.  The red nails. The red lips. The not a lick of English. The way heels clicked across the hardwood floors. Ruffled aprons and housecoats..  Homemade provisions. 6 layer high birthday cakes. Shrines to the mother everywhere. The tell me stories in soundbytes and memories.

But I never knew them. I never knew the smell of their clothes.  The loose skin around their elbows.  The inflections in their voices.  I never knew the love of a mother who gave birth to my mother. Or who held me in her own womb when I was a fully formed egg in my mothers growing body.

There is a hole in my heart. I won’t lie. It’s a gap in my story.

I always wanted a grandmother.

A grandma.  To love me. To spoil me.  To teach me the ways of the Old Country. 

I feel like knowing them would have helped me figure out along the way who I am. Why I am the way I am.  There is a story missing from my blood that holds the key to mystery.  Who were these women? Who were the ones that came before them? Before them? Who did they sing songs to? What did they stir over the fire? How did they heal? Why did they flee? Who did they leave behind? 

My oldest daughter is arriving closer to the time of her own blood. Her own moon. She steps into the spiral that leads her to womanhood and I want to give her ancestry.  I want to give her stories.  I will pull them from behind me so she can carry on the magic pass it on. And on. And on. These stories will continue to heal. 

As the daughter of first generations who were trained very well to let go of the Old Country and embrace La Merica with pride, the stories of my blood got very lost, hidden, silenced.  I always felt I carried the unbearable weight of not knowing. 

I wanted to know. Something. I didn’t even know what I wanted to know.

But I knew there was something looking for me. And I was looking for it.  We are looking for each other. 

One time I went to a psychic or medium or whatever you want to call them and it was when I was really ‘in it’ with the baby/breastfeeding years.  And she said: You have a very strong line of women behind you.  Some of them are your bloodline.  Some of them are your lifeline. But they are there. And they want you to know them.  They want you to hear the songs they are singing to you and your children.  These are your grandmothers.  And you are meant to work with them.

This is the work of our blood, the bones and land and water of where we come from. This matters. It does.  Even if we have to make it up.  Even if we to re-tell the stories.  These stories matter.

We all need the grandmothers.

The grandmothers want to be heard.

The grandmothers are the ones who are guiding us into our new state of being. Of living. Of honoring the moon, and the daughters, of ourselves, and of our wombs. The Earth.

This is something I believe in fully.

I believe now is the time.

* * *

When I decided that honoring the roots, creating future roots, was very important to me, I began to learn everything I could about the land my grandmother’s were born on.  One on a mystery Island and the other against the Baltic sea.  These places held unseen treasures and scrolls and temples of stories and myth and uprising and family.  But it was all left behind for a new and better world.

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Instead of relying on the real thing, because there really isn’t a real thing-  {the story of the grandmothers of our bones is infinite and constantly flexible} - I just dove into myth.  I dove into how I felt.  All the reasons I am who I am because of the women before me.  I told myself stories of their lives as young girls, as lovers, as birthing mothers.  I tried to transport myself to their original soil by devouring every ounce of Sicilian {which involves Syrian, Greek, African and Egyptian} as well as Lithuanian/Polish history that I could find.  Myths, tales, legends, trade routes, foods, riots, religions, every last bit of it.  We have all been colonized.  We have all lost our roots, the anchoring into the Original Medicine we were promised was taken from us.  We have all been stolen from and the ways of the grandmother have been appropriated, bought, sold, and re-told as lies or else hidden so far underground and the tools are unknown. But not really. We have them. We are the tools to unearth the healing.

We are here to tell the stories of the unheard.  To be a voice for the pilgrimage of the righteous feminine that came before us.  We are the ones the Grandmothers have been waiting for.  We are the ones that are on the journey of becoming grandmothers ourselves.  How will we hold that space?  We must heal and learn from the roots before us.  This blood holds great wisdom.

* * *

The joto {a term from the African continent, that I feel speaks so well to this} is a layer of spiritual intelligence handed down from ancestors to us.  The joto is like the guardian spirit of the person living, tapping into the bones and blood of what has come before.  I believe that ancestor reverence, especially for the feminine bloodline, holds an important place for the future of our new belief systems and for the birthing a new world into being, a world that heals the earth and heals our wombs, a world so good that we know it can be true.

I believe that working with our bloodlines, our motherlines {and fatherlines} is crucial for releasing the karma of what we hold that is not ours as well as for tapping into the most powerful, protective and healing magic that is ours.

Working with Grandmother energy is learning to work with what is existing at another level.  We ask both for their guidance and help them release anything they carry so they can move into infinite bliss, communicate with clarity, and enjoy the re-birthing process. We can actually play a part in calling something ancient into a new being. Allowing the release into the great cosmic ash.

And more than anything, we tap into the feminine at levels beyond the physical, but that once were physical.  Our grandmother line may indeed be the blood that still courses in our bodies, but it may be blood from other sources, it may not be genetically familial to us.   But does it matter? We are all related, we are all relations, we are all connected- through the moon + the womb. Don’t get stuck on whose blood is guiding you.  We are One Blood.

Work on reconnecting the roots and aligning yourself with The Grandmothers who are ready to help us help ourselves heal the world ::


|| Altar creating || {very simple}

The Light of The Grandmother


Using a small or large space, trace a circle and in the center place a photo of a grandmother, an elder, a wise women that you long to tap into, to listen to, to speak with, to find wisdom from.  You can form a true circle around the photos with rocks or other material, or you can keep it energetic.

On the four corners give offerings in alignment with their culture.  Find out their drinks, their food, their soil, their elements.  This may be the same as your own blood, but maybe you are pulled to another type of grandmother-line.  Spend time at this altar and kneel in front of it, close your eyes, and breathe.  Listen. Listen. Listen. 

It is that simple.  This is your space of ancestry work.  You can always get more elaborate.  {If you want to find our more you can sign up for my newsletter at marybethbonfiglio.com to continue to learning more involved altars and ritual around this work}


|| Writing + Living Roots ||


*Make a list of all the deceased women in your family that you can remember by name.  This list can also be included on your Light Of The Grandmother altar.

*Make a list of deceased women that you honor and respect, that you feel are teachers to you, regardless if related to you.  Add these to your altar as well.

*Write down any stories or memories that you have been told or heard about your motherlines {your motherlines also includes your father’s motherline}

*Find elders that you feel a connection with.  Interview them. They may be family members or maybe they are not.  Listen to these stories as wisdom of the bones.

*Tell your daughter a story about the wise women in you life, a story of a grandmother or an aunt, or a relation.  Or find a story from your culture {or beyond} and share it with your daughter or with a child, relation or not. 

*Spend time writing stories about the things in your space.  Where do some pieces you hold and display come from? What are their stories? Tell the stories about the women who may or may not be connected to each piece.  I am talking art, decor, clothes, nature outside.  This is a creative writing endeavor, there is no right or wrong.  Write poetry about what is around you and connect it all to the great mothers.

*Write a story about a women who is spiritually with you.  You may know her.  You may not.  But you feel her.  Who is she? Give her a name.  Give her a purpose.  Give her your time and your honor. 


May you and your relations always communicate in peace and honor.  May the bloodlines be healed.  May you find your motherline teachers. May the moon be revered.  May the waters be respected.  May the Earth be given more life.  May the Grandmothers be heard.  Blessed will it all be.


MaryBeth Bonfiglio

writer. mother. speaker. creator. 

 amulet co-publisher. earth-trained herbalist. ancestry schooled tarot reader. co-host of a podcast about love.

 

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