"'Remember' implies that a thing exists in the memory, not that it is actually present in the thoughts at the moment, but that it recurs without effort."
In the modern age, when so many have been severed from their roots by the machinations of civilization and society and the steady approach of AI's staggering influence looms ever nearer, the soul is calling more and more strongly to the hearts of those who are here to love this organic human life as temple, dojo, hearth, and treasure.
Civilization, society, and the AI agenda, in order to fulfill their own intent and design, need us dissociated from earth, place, soul, and the mystery, and subsequently mildly to profoundly deranged because of it: it makes us easy to manipulate, control, and direct according to the desires of the elite who control those machinations at this point.
Make no mistake: the ones at the "helm" do not care for our well-being. Only for their own power and profit continuing to grow exponentially at any and all cost. Our sensate, passionate, glorious, messy, hopeful, painful, and beautiful lives, are merely inconveniences that need to be managed to them.
But we are also the many, and they are the few. Which hands us an incredible task at an incredible moment.
We must find our way home to the messy, radiant wonder of the human experience AS INTEGRAL ELEMENT of the Gaian experience NOW.
I am a child of the European diaspora. Perhaps you are too? Or maybe of some other diaspora. There's a lot of diaspor-izing to navigate these days. Many walk lands or lanes that their old ones did not.
I can feel my indigeneity as surely as I can feel the breath in my lungs, but the line to those roots has been viciously devastated first by centuries of violence and then by centuries more of wandering in search of that lost home, or at the least, a place to build a life, grow some food, and enjoy the sunset.
I don't know my father, so half the story is entirely gone.
I knew my great-great grandmother for a while when I was very young, but she was mean-spirited and senile and I didn't want to talk with her about anything.
I knew and loved my great-grandmother dearly, but what we talked about were the old days of her life, not the old days of our family line. I didn't care about that then. There was no notion of lineage or ancestry alive in my heart or home at that time, so her stories were a wonder, but it didn't occur to me to ask about farther back.
So so endowment of high-story from family. I know the general area of my matrilineage, but that's all.
So how do I find my place in this world?
How do I find my belonging when I don't know where the bones of my ancestors are? When only a genetics test that will be delivered into the hands of foreign scientists for dubious purposes at best could imply - not even define - where the blood that flows through my temporal veins in the now may have, possibly, come from?
I do what is left when all the material pieces have been stripped away.
I listen to the earth, the mystery, and the quiet songs of my own soul.
And I remember.
The old ways cannot be destroyed by church or society. They are emergent from the land itself, shaping and being shaped by travel through the body of the people in flux as a collective over time, and they travel in the blood of those whose threads were derived from that land, no matter how far the bodies that carry the blood have traveled from that source.
The old ways of wherever we came from are a part of our pulse and a part of the design of our being as surely as the timbre of our voices and the color of our eyes.
They are there to be remembered, should we take the time and learn to hear the whispers of tongues and tales long gone to ground and sky. Should we turn not backwards, but within to the soul and within to the soil.
Soul and soil are only separated by one letter for a reason, I believe. They are kin, and interwoven by the dance of the "u" and the "i".
I have learned to listen in this way over years and years and years of wondering, wandering, and living with my heart tuned to that deep whisper no matter what the racket of society is pushing on me in any given moment. I am not pristine in the endeavor, but I am earnest, and it has brought me close to this:
The western european pagan wheel of the year that honors the cycles of the seasons of the living body of the earth as the hearth of my journey, my great initiator, my deepest teacher, most beloved challenger, and the altar of all of my prayers.
It has brought me close to the lunar cycle that shines over every body in every place without discrimination or hesitation.
It has brought me close to the old ways of being in relationship with the wild earth in a place whose seasons are as shimmering and distinct as butterflies are from snow hares.
It has given me somewhere to land when the land of my ancestors has been ravaged and obscured by dislocation.
Learning to listen can help you remember too.
It can help you remember who you are, regardless of what information you have. Your knowing, your wisdom, and your way of living and walking the old ways of being cannot be made out of information: it can only be made by you listening, loving, learning, and remembering the whispers and wonderings of spirit and earth that flow through you from the unbreakable threads of lineage that you are an embodiment of.
I am here to help you in that remembering if you are ready to come home to soul and soil.
In my evolutionary mentoring practice we root into the european pagan wheel of the year and the lunar cycle as a container for the refinement of soul and the cultivation of the power to live and give your medicine into the body of the world at this most extraordinary moment of choice and change.
If you are ready to dive in and remember, reach out to schedule a free soul empowerment call and let's get this party started.
Sending you all the love as you find your way to honest embodiment of the truth of your being. It's the greatest quest and it makes a difference for the heart and soul of the world.
Maitreya your devoted ally on the path.
