I Fall in Love with the Darkness of Everyday Life.
I have an old soul, it looks a lot like a dress that Jane Eyre would have worn: plain and grey.
But I hold so much of a dreaming mind about me, being a hopeless sort of romantic woman. I swear I shoot spells out of my fingertips with all the grace of my old wisdom that holds up in my bones, my feelings oftentimes like that of the crone in my young body.
I see myself as an otherworldly creature, not quite fitting in anywhere, and yet when I am loved, I am loved particularly for the strangeness and curious nature I possess, a confusing and ultimately maddening nature no less. The mystery of my soul is like the twinkle of moon dust upon the blackness of the night sky, a star exploding and saying goodbye.
Everything must be done exceptionally fast, otherwise I am gone, my ageless adventurer heart cannot be tamed, and boredom is a chain that cuffs me like a slave.
I wasn’t made to play small, and yet this world seems determined to pinch my head like a child doing a magic trick, the illusion is the problem I can’t seem to grasp long enough to rise into the state of being we all inherently possess. But that is meaningless, since there is nowhere to rise to!
When that illusion is lifted, I tire of writing freely of my worldly confusion, something that has been a problem my whole life. I always looked for the magical in the mundane, and came up gasping for breath, always the same desperate attempt at finding that higher plane of existence that I firmly believed existed.
But love is the cure for all diseases listed in the codex of illness. Love has cured me from an illness of hell. Fear is the symptom of death, my dear, and there is no pill to take to mask that sort of chill and body ache but love. In loving myself, and allowing myself to be loved, I found myself: a priestess made from darkness and bone, divining my dreams, entangling myself in their ever present mystery.
I feel deeply through my shadows, they are my oldest friends. I fall in love with the darkness of everyday life, the thick blanket of emotions that follows living creatures wherever they go. I connect with that infinite Divine Feminine energy that bathes in my womb.
My birthright as a woman, the sacred temple of my womanhood, is where I lie down to rest. It calls to me in my night dreams, it swirls at the base of my spine, allowing Shakti to flow up to meet my heart in the wild cage that barely contains its wild fluttering. I am the Dark Goddess reaching for the black of my heart that holds the wisdom of the ages, of the enchantresses who lived and died before me.
I am bowing my head, removing my crown, and laying it at the roots of the ancient tree that basks in the glow of the stars and crescent moon’s ethereal light. Shedding, shedding what must be shed, just as a snake releases what is no longer serving her. I leave behind the filth of my past undoing, the shackles that tried to hold me. I am a Wild Woman and will not be held down.
I lie beneath the night sky, my body free of misconceptions of beauty, free from the heavy trials of right and wrong. I dance to the drumming of my ever strong, ever wise heart.
I trust the Wise Woman who speaks through my intuition, guiding me with her deep and ancient wisdom. Just as a spider weaves her web, I weave my knowing into the scars and stars on my skin. I trust the Wild Woman who walks with my feet, carrying me with courage where I must go. I trust the Maiden who thirsts for life in my heart center, always believing that life is new and good.
I am she who infinitely opens herself up to the Universe and its limitless flowing rivers of love even with all the pain she has known. I am Divine Feminine, I am she who knows.
Hannah Heslop is a mother, a certified energy and Reiki healer, a student of the Institute for Integrative Nutrition, an active seeker of magic and wisdom, and a writer of the Divine Feminine. She is a lover of crystals, deep dark poetry, and coffee.