rising
after seeds
The seeds have been sleeping. Swelling. Beginning to sprout their new song.
Deepening into the moist earth. Becoming into a new form.
Patience little seeds. And, be brave. It’s vulnerable to sprout.
Whether you are seed or human. Whether this is your tenth or first time.
You are a cycle of becoming. rising. falling. emptying. releasing. resting. gestating. swelling. emerging. again. becoming the song that you are. again and again.
you are the form from out of the formless. soul is beyond dissection. trust the chrysalis. trust the soil. trust the stories beneath the surface. trust rise. trust red. trust what you have swallowed. how you have digested. the way it has metabolized.
integrate seeds. integrate rising. become. more.
and integrate the below below. the underneath wonderneath, beneath the beneath. where stories are many hued shades of gray -where fragments and seeds, bones and memories, hibernating dreams. sepia toned photographs. past lives. karmic records. karmic seeds.
vessels. you are more than a nesting doll. you are more than the story. you are the cracking open. the wild remembering.
Art: Red K. Elders
I cast out my net for a story to tell on the 20th of March. Persephone wishes to speak. Through me. Through you. Through place. Through body. Through memory. Through imagination. Active Imagination. Let us swell inside of the Creative Cauldron of Inspiration. Let us be churned by a story. An ancient story. Before the before. Story with a capital S. The big Story. Descend with me. Wander searching for your daughter with me. Grieve. Rage. Be the wise woman with the torch. Be the sacred seed. Or the God who takes that which he takes. Matter of fact.
Look through the lens of story from inside out. Not outside in. We contain all the parts, all the players, all the gods/goddesses of the stories within. They are reflected also outside. But the within -this sacred landscape within your physical vessel…She has a message for you. Persephone moves through you differently than she moves through me.
Seek questions. Write your way inside the answer. Be the seed, just before the rise. Be the seed, just before the fall. Be the Raucous elder woman -the one who is irreverent -the one who has transcended all story. Grow your irrationality. Find mirth. Learn something new.
Become a cornucopia of possibility, a new garden, a field of wheat, a golden hued endless landscape rolling like waves in the wind.
Art: Red K. Elders
Wear the sun in your crown. Grow pregnant with the moon. Trust the message from the mother -the Great Mother. She is seeking the Kore in you -the young maiden -the maiden becoming priestess. The maiden becoming Queen. She seeks the ripening fruit that you have become. To become more whole. Holy. Re-birthed. Like Daughter like mother. Like Mother like daughter. The one below merges with the one above. The one above merges with the one below. They cast a new song. They have grown deeper. Wiser. The below the below has ensouled them. The long stark winter, it too has carved something. The Cycle of night. Winter. The Scythe. The Sickle. The blood too has been transformed. By Mother. By Daughter. By soil. Because it has been plucked. Because it has ripened. Because it has fallen. It was made for initiation. It was made for rites and cycles. Seasons and seasonings. It was made to shine. To remember. To rise. To strengthen. To know Self. Not just be a self.
Art: Red K. Elders
Somewhere in all of this is a mystery. A guardian. A torch. A knowing. A nod. Ancient wisdom. Divine Feminine Secrets. Given. Taken. Replenished. Made more sacred. She tends the veil. She tends the fire. She tends the flame. She tends the heart hearth of art. The keeper of creative renewal. She says when it is time to rise and when it is time to fall. She sees beyond the beyond. She knows. She sings. She holds space. She is witness and the elder we all long to remember.
Journey with me. March 20th. 10 am. Spring Equinox. For a tale told for centuries. Year after year. Elusian Mysteries. Secrets bound to the grave never to be shared. We can taste these fruits through a sacred story. Be open to how the mystery orchestrates itself through you. Wander into wonder with me. And the women of Story who are called to ancient teachings, ancient echoes, ancient mysteries, renewed. Ensouled. Seeded. Sprouting. Rising.
Whether you are in the northern or southern hemisphere, this story is a timeless journey. Into Fall. Into Spring. Into the descent. Into the rise.
Where does she land in you?
Please consider a paid subscription for a sweet way to journey into the soul of story with me and a group of amazing women from around the world. We are currently a small container. It’s an intimate, safe group. We will hear the story. We will find ourselves inside of it. We will land somewhere, who knows where -it will be different than how you landed in it before -before the before. In this lifetime and the ones before. Discover how she transforms you. Write with me. Through the veil of mystery. Into the fruits of wisdom.
xoxo
Stasha
P.S. if you absolutely do not want to be part of a paid subscription, you can still join this story. Send me a message. And a payment to PayPal for sliding scale 15 - 25 USD.
I can’t wait to journey with you.
Soon,
Stasha