As many times as I’d died, you think I’d be used to this feeling of rebirth. As I step into this new role, perhaps ancient identity—I find myself expanding in ways the physical eye cannot perceive.
I’d never enjoyed the idea of shrinking myself; of being quiet or silenced; of being docile and meek. Being raised by women daring to run against the grain to return to her nature, I’d been a witness to the unfolding process of the wild woman; as she leaves all that she has known to seek the bounty of the divine.
Marveling at the wild woman, I still feared her solitude as I captured her shadow, the isolation solidifying her lack of trust, turning one’s heart cold and speech bitter. The world shamed her for her lack of submission to patriarchal standards, maiming her an outcast of undeveloped community. She was ostracized, and in her exile was forced to nurture light in the midst of darkness. Her nature always frightened me– the threat of loneliness fastening tightly to my neck, going against my nomadic, communal nature. I ran away from the wild woman even as she beckoned me to a quiet patio to write tales of the divine, placing my forehead upon Gods plentiful earth, crooning in the arms of her bitter shadow until I was forced to see her beauty. Its amazing how stubbornly we run from that which we know can save us.
In calling in her archetype, I honor the nature of who I’ve always been and allow myself to step into the simple authenticity of being me. Peeling away each layer of identity underneath, I discover primal essence and return to the spiritual nature derived from God’s very breath. And in that moment, I realized that the wild woman was only called so because she had the courage the break loose of ego’s chains and do what everyone swore they could not.
Return to heaven by setting herself free.
This is the reopening of the journey of the wild woman.
xx Heaven
Genuinely Jannah 