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Image by Toa Heftiba

Dear Women with a Wild Soul,

I remember sitting around ceremonial fires, surrounded by sisters, mothers, grandmothers, all the women, with you.

I remember ancient wisdom passed from down generation to generation.

It's in my bones.

It's real.

I was there.

You were there.


I remember the ways our bodies moved slowly, with ease.

Delightfully bumping into each other with laughter as we danced.



Hips swaying to the sounds of breezes in the treetops.

The music.

The howling wind.

The sky twinkled with promises upon us as the fires burned into the night.

Embers flickered through the twilight,

bringing our passion, our dreams, toward the cosmos.

The night was peaceful.

Its darkness covered us in possibilities where we dreamed.



We were wholly ourselves.





We moved with the cycles of nature, and of the seasons.

We nourished each other with our hearts, our art, our gifts.

We were one then.


There was no them and us.

It was all Us.



We celebrated our differences.

That's what made it all so real.


It's time we share the knowledge we have inside our hearts.

To claim it and support ourselves by coming together and

being witnessed.


Heard in all our glory and in all our ragged, bone tiredness.

Because, damn, we're tired of doing all the things.



The land of the free and the home of the brave taught us

that we would be "successful" by doing it their way.

Muscling through.

Ignoring all the feelings.

That competition was the key, and fighting for the top spot was our salvation.

Because we have been taught that independence is the way.

That doing it all ourselves somehow makes us better.


More powerful.

Mind over heart.

But no. We know better.

We are better in numbers. Together.

Fitting our unique pieces together, woven into a collective mosaic that brings out our ultimate brilliance.

All the colors.

Our shimmering wishes.


We live softly, gently.


We have been through so much.


We are in a process of healing.

With tears to shed.

Wounds to heal.

Soul wounds: as we were under a collective spell saying our

bodies needed

taming, shaming, blaming.


Because we are too powerful.

Our power was feared.

Our power was suppressed, repressed, oppressed because it was too big.

Too much.

Too real.

Our power is so immense.

Our power is in our body. Our stories.

Our power is our connection to Our source.

Our power is together.


The wild body.

The dreaming body.

It is our sensor.

Our connection to intuition.

To knowing 


That information that comes to us and through us

is True or not.

We cannot be tamed.

We breathe with the Mother, for it is where we derive our sustenance, our nurture.

Our nature.

We come from wildish places and wildish dreams.

Our dreams cannot be tamed, for they come to us and through us.

We are the dreams of our ancestors.


To be the light in the world.

Peace in the community.

At home in our hearts and our minds.


I have made mistakes, yet I believe in innocence.




I remember.

Sometimes it takes  a while to remember but the memory always floods back.



Of the ways I have gone against my inner knowing. 

Of the ways I accepted others ways that aren't mine.


I believe women will heal the world.

It's time we listen to what our hearts want.

Community. Support. Healing. Truth. Process.

It's time we love ourselves, our dreams.

The dream we came to create together.


I am not against anything.

Because I know when I push, the thing I push against becomes stronger.

It pushes against me.

The dark forces that seem to threaten us are created in our own minds, our imaginations.

They can only be transmuted through love.

But we must find the strength to go there. To find love and forgiveness and compassion for ourselves

and for those things we find most challenging to embrace.

All it requires is a letting go.


The revolution is gentle and soft.

It is calling us back to our center.

The revolution is in our hearts.

It is love.

It is positive.


I am for-








women-men-children working together cooperatively




Can you hear it?

The sounds of the heartbeat of mother earth e

choing softly,

calling your name.

Calling you in.

You have been waiting for this.

We have been waiting for this because we have been dreaming together.

You may have lost your way

or your faith,

or your dream because you were tired

or afraid.

Afraid of being called out.

Afraid of sharing your song.


It's time to come out and play.

This is your time.

To be celebrated.

To be danced.

To be your wild self in the moonlight.

© Jen Rivers, 2015

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