Elder Medicine Carriers call me to their death bed.

It’s happened more than twice,
but two circumstances stand out most.

They ask for innocence. To touch them, to hold them. And as I do, I feel lightening enter my body.

It’s ecstatic sensation, and it runs like a hot liquid through my blood. It then moves to my bones. This part can hurt as it solidifies into matter. It looks like diamonds.

Parts of me pulverize. They turn to dust. Never to be here again. Just poof. And the imprint of the lightening lasts. It stays.

These gifts continue to inform me. Continue to transform me. They call it prophecy: ancestors living within me. I know this as Grail.

This year, my 33rd year, I’ve been completing a passage as “healer”, completing myself as someone in service, in ways I knew before, in ways a sick society taught me.

They guide my steps into something more but also easier. Something that seems weird for a 33 year old in this current society. Yet I hear them say, “But it is you that is alive now.”

They say I am them when they were my age. They show me who I am and what I am here to be and how to do that.

They offer ideas to me about me that are more me than I have allowed me to be. I recognize that sometimes the path does get lonely.  I’ve been considering the changes I need to follow the dreaming. To be their living prayer.

I’ve been looking at life through eyes just for me. The eyes that they invite me to be. My eyes are “pono” and they are “innocent.”  They say, “When many need to be looking for the service, you need to be looking for you.”  Anything I look at for me will always benefit.

Look for me. And not for the service. Because then I am looking in innocence.

They say “Open your legs, let yourself be filled.”

As I look through these eyes just for me, I am directed into effortless magic that I have always known, yet not allowed fully. It’s my ancient wound of not fitting in.

Sometimes I’d rather just have friends then play my role of weighing hearts and feathers.
But this magic doesn’t care about many things and maybe only cares about One.

This is the kind of magic where not many can follow. The kind of magic where there is only harmony and no harm.

This magic cannot be taught. There are no students or teachers here. No priestess or temple. No mother or child.

There is only Life.

I am invited and I see.

These lands are retirement for me.
Retirement from goddess culture
And into the goddess
Completely free to be ~
Without the struggles of
vanity humanity
matrix identity
And how sick it makes me

It’s all clear and it’s only my choice now to be
Without making myself available for social protocols. Without enslaved money, enslaved internet, enslaved body.

Even with mountains of paper magic, I will never let it be a reflection of my worth. My womb is here to create much grander things.

It is written.
I am the garden.
I am creation.
I am invited INTO this land.

By Rosemother Eliza