This is a story I channelled from the Mother. Please take a moment before reading to breathe and let your mind settle. Let the truth of this vision ring true in your heart and soul. Mahalo. Thank you. I love you. Dunes of white sand she walks, moon shedding her tentative glow over the sacred homelands of Mother. In silence the circle forms. Smallest is that of the elder mothers. The grandmas of each tribe, carrying the depth if wisdom, love, and grace unknowable by younger generations. Ringed around the grandmas are the children, the grandchildren, those who are not physically mothers but are learning at the knees of their mothers, fathers, and grandparents. Around the children gather the generation in between , the daughters of the grandmothers. They stand at the vital point of protection, the edge, keeping the balance between the sacred magic and the physical world. The hum begins in the center of the circle, a low moan, gathering breath and momentum as each female adds her voice to the mix. The cacophony rises, spiraling up towards the stars on the cool night breeze. The drone goes on and one, growing and falling in intensity, gaining depth. A sphere of light is brought to life, illuminating the ages faces, moths open in purest prayer, eyes closed, their sight transcending the world around them. The sweeping of melody of girls voices soar high over the rest, hailing in the spirits of the new generation, welcoming each soul into awakening as it makes the journey from darkness into light. From the midst of the women a cry is heard. “Save our Mother Earth, dear spirits, for she is ill, attacked and abused by her own children.” The lament repeats in wavering wails, shuddering through each circle. “Great Creator, Source of love, Father and Mother, Darkness and Light, hear our plea in the time of change. Uplift the low and fallen, grant the awakened the wisdom, knowledge, and ability to heal and release old fears and sorrows from brothers and sisters who are willing to see the light but are in need of guidance.” Brighter grows the sky and in it appears the visage of wisdom, patience, forgiveness, love. Eyes strong and soft, filled with fierce kindness and merciless compassion. They are bleeding the tears of polluted waters, inky black, rolling down her cheeks in rivers. She opens her mouth and from it pours the blood of her slain children. She speaks and in her voice can be heard the sounds of horses, birds, whales, wolves, bees, wind, water, fire, and the song of her sons and daughters. “Hear me children, for the time is neigh. Though many are awakening, still more are crushed under the fear. The healing must pick up magnitude the feminine must come back into her power on this land for she carries the dreams, prophecies, and wisdom. She is nurturer, healer, care-taker, giver and taker of breath. She is gentle in times of weakness, joyful and supportive in times of strong will. She is graceful, kind, and loving. Her weapon is compassion and she wields it with adeptness. She must carry those in fear out of the depth, heal their wounds of the soul and banish the shadows. But to fulfill this task she must be whole within herself. Daughters, tend to your sisters. They are suffering the backlash of a male dominated society. Go to them, empty them of the false power they have taken on for it is not of the feminine, but of the male. Once there is only female energy left cleanse it, release the sense of unworthiness and hopelessness that has permeated it. Then fill them with the light of the Creator so that balance is restored within them. Leave no child in darkness that seeks th light. Love all. Teach your sisters to love themselves and to care for their bodily forms. Help each to become a channel to the pure and healing light of the Source. Grow gardens, be strong within your ohanas, take care of your children while they are young and vulnerable that they may come easily to the light with no shadows scarring their souls. I am here always to give guidance and to protect. Seek me in dire need. Follow your hearts. Appreciate, Breathe, Create, Love. Her last words rumble over the white sands, thundering in an endless monotone, filling the air with passion, purpose, direction. The women now stand in silence once more. Many are weeping. The children have crawled into the arms of their elders, shaken by the power of the Mother. The circle disperses into the night as swiftly as it was formed, figures wrapped in white cloths fading into the distance. Grandma Moon Aama stands alone in the desert now, eyes closed, face peaceful. He arms lift up and come together over her heart. The wind picked up, carrying in the breath of the Mother. It falls over Moon Aama, a veil of shimmering mist and again she raises her arms to receive the gift. The Night stills once more, Moon Aama becomes one with the sky and the earth and disappears into the stars. After channelling this story I read it out loud, offering it up to Mother and all the Grandmothers, children and Mothers of the universe. If you wish, now is your chance to offer up the experience of this story to the great web of healing energies around the Earth. Use the portal that was opened in the vision to send all the love you wish to Her so that she may heal Her wounds and fight off the pollution of Her waters and skies. <3
