I was in a reverie brought on by singing a song of the Mother.
My heart open.
I was swirling in the arms of the Divine Dance.
Singing with Grace into Oblivion.
No separation.
Soothed by Faith.
I belonged.
I was Lost in the Divine Ambrosia.
As I was lulled by this harmony,
I was offered this remembering…
A noose around my neck.
Terrified.
For the first time, I was separate from her.
Separation, a foreign feeling.
Before this I’d known no stranger.
Division had been summoned.
And an unsung feeling was consecrated,
Terror.
She coursed through my veins and seized my heart.
Then the floor fell from under my feet.
And I was hanged.
My body hung limp,
For all to see.
I was a sacrifice.
The end of a ritual to evoke and unleash Terror.
A wake up call.
She was here now.
And hearts were susceptible
I relived being hanged.
Visceral.
Like the welling up when the need to cry comes.
An unbearable pressure.
Up through my throat.
My teeth clenched.
When the floor fell,
A shock surged through my body.
My breath hung.
The Mother fled.
Out through the top of my head.
Stunned with this vision I wept.
I howled.
My throat burned with the remembering of the flow of power that was strangled out of me.
Then I heard her.
The one who was hanged.
Her hands, one on the back of my neck, the other on my heart.
She whispered.
“It is time, sister, to sing again.”
“You’ve lived in Love. You’re living in Terror.”
“It’s time to heal this trauma.”
“Build the bridge from heart to brain. Retrain.”
“Evoke Me Once Again.”
“Reclaim what was driven out of you.”
“Unify Love and Terror.”
“Lose yourself once again in this ancient longing.”
“Embody Me.”
“Lead Again.”
“Sing.”
** This writing has several parts to it that are numbered with title. I received these memories over a period of 12 months.