I’m still not sure what to make of my intuitive collage from K’era Morgan and Mamma Makers Collective’s workshop on Sunday. But like K’era said, whether we like the final product or not, when we let our intuition create, it gives us an accurate representation of what’s going on inside.
I see an ornate descending staircase against backgrounds of inverted melting glacier and crimson South American sands..
I see Mesopotamian gourd shaped vessels on sterile museum pedestals..
I see an ancient Egyptian princess’s golden falcon collar split by an earth toned striped diamond…
I tore these materials from travel magazines during my travels, folding them into tiny pieces and jamming them into my fanny pack of passports and essentials between Nyvon tearing at the pages himself and tossing around anything he could get his hands on from our shared window seat.
In K’era’s process, we are given just enough time to gather, cut and place our materials without time to get in our heads. I was especially time sensitive this session because I got an SOS from my MIL to get back to Nyvon half way through creating. But low and behold, this process never disappoints.
What this image reminds me of the most is the view out our window on the last flight home. Piercing through sunset at 9,000 feet over mountain and desert between Austin and LA, when the clouds and the land looked so gorgeous and other worldly… I could feel my heart opening to Mother Earth’s pinks as far as I could see below. And all I wanted was to get on the ground and bow down to the sacred sands of this mysterious land.
In my twenties, I always thought the spiritual path was about ascending, to the top of some metaphorical mountain of nirvana, awakening, enlightenment, by muscling through a structured and disciplined practice and following the common threads of wisdom traditions that knew the way. I didn’t know it then, but it was such a masculine approach. It seems preposterous now, but I think I thought all the big questions would somehow be answered eventually. And the world’s suffering would make sense. And life’s inconsistencies would be neatly resolved in the holy grail of getting woke.
Right now I feel like my path is a Descension, into the earth, into the beautiful chaos of life, into remembering who we are, and who She is. And treading lighter. Day by day. Even in little ways. My on-the-grid-cis-white-American-woman life is so intertwined with unsustainable consumption and destructive patriarchal practices in a colonized world. The days of finding refuge in self help books seem far gone, and sometimes I feel like I’m flailing, blindly unrooted with little knowledge of where I come from more than a generation or two back. In full knowledge that the luxe trappings of privilege in this “land of the free” came through violence and exploitation and at the cost of perpetuating systemic inequalities.
And yet… at the same time, I feel more grounded than ever, connected to this sacred life. This is all such beautiful, fertile ground. I’m grateful that at 34, my spiritual path shows up as global sisterhood, community, authenticity, transparency, and listening to the wisdom that wants so badly to find us if we’re just willing to turn down the noise.