05/07/2026
Blood of my blood đ©ž
Iâm reading The Ruin Of Magic by Kate Holden - subtitled The Longing And Belonging In Strange Times. Out in the wilderness Iâm creating my own belonging these days. It looks nothing like what I was taught to desire, and it is infinitely more nurturing and deeply resonant with my true heartâs desire. It also comes with grief, because of my commitment to truth and healing my red thread. The wounded ways stop with me. I no longer seek solace in false safety. I leave places and containers that perpetuate it.
At our core, our belonging is in our remembering. We are of the world. Women create the world. In our blood, the world breathes, we give it life. As it does in the mothers of all beings. Mother of plants, mother of soil, mother of air, mother of oceans, mother of fire. What a blessed journey to be born a woman, a mother, a life giver. Mothersâ dreaming contains the seeds of all that exists on this planet. We have dreamed it into creation.
The more I honour my blood each month, the deeper the connection to my body grows. As I cleanse it with fire and smoke, I feel the cells of life ripple within my womb, I am honoured, and in doing so I honour all mothers. My belonging to what is real deepens. The strangeness falls away, because this is what is truly real đ©ž
