The Call

I am drowning

Again

In the echo- in the sound of a scream. 

No. Not a scream. I listen now. Intently. 

Something in me is screeching. Keening. Calling. Hissing. Clicking. Chanting. 

Not something. 

SOMEONE. 

I can feel her, hear her, see her, sense her. 

This wild shaman. This woman. This ME. 

Standing in the center of an ancient tree that lives within me. 

She is the SEED. 

Planted before my mother’s mother was born. Before my father’s father took up earthly form. 

There she stands. Waiting. Calling. Hissing. Clicking. Chanting. Humming. Within the ancient tree. Holding the scepter of TRUTH. 

And she’s been charging, charging, charging, like a battery plugged in for a century. 

For a thousand years. For an eon. 

Ripe. Ready. Full. Bursting. 

Electric lightning rippling through every cell of her being. My being. 

This. This is the sound- the cacophonous clamor of TRUTH ripe to burst free. 

I am hearing. I hear. I feel. I see. I sense.

The rush and the screech and the static charge in the air- of a lightning bolt ready to unleash- 

…because she’s ready. She’s ready. She’s ready. 

Am I? 

Is there room for this much muchness in my life? In my home? In my being? 

This lightning. This charge. This TRUTH. 

And will this TRUTH rip away everything that isn’t aligned- and damn- what will that be? 

Who will that be? 

Who will I be? 

What is the cost to set her free? 

And oh- the ripping agony- the hurt, the feral suffocation-  at the cost, the cost, the cost- of never setting her free. Never unleashing this lightning. 

Of leaving her there charging in the ancient tree. 

Of not being. 

This wild shaman in an ancient tree holding her scepter of TRUTH- carrying lightning in her veins. 

Giving birth and life to this electrical charge. This  love and shadow and light. This medicine. 

This wild shaman who carries death medicine. Death medicine in service of life. 

She comes. She comes. She comes. 

And I- 

I will be ready. 

I am being made ready. 

________________________

I wrote this piece months ago. The call which I now understand was a summoning.

And I am ready now. Ready to choose this birth. Ready to let this lightning free. Ready to just step into the first blossoming of the seed that was planted lifetimes ago.

What that looks like right now is threshold medicine of the deepest kind. It looks like me regulating my nervous system with daily doses of nature, healing sound, sunshine and deep sleep. It looks like telling myself. “It is safe to be me.”

It looks like being in daily devotion to what lights me up knowing that when my cup is filled I have the ability to pour into others.

And the magic that is opening up in my life is the sweetest form of lightning Ive ever tasted in my veins. Me, summoning me, into life.

What and who is summoning you? What is the call that resounds in the deep bones of your life? What starts as a scream sometimes turns into the sweetest song. I hope you get to sing your song. I hope you come all the way awake. I hope someday we meet in full bloom and sit down to a feast of the fruits.