I am spiraling into the Black Mother.
She is cave,
She is womb,
She is receptive,
She is spiraling into me.
I react to challenges where I give my power away. Love, at the very beginning, feels as ecstatic as the source of all creation. Soon, I experience the myriad tug to lines of past wounds. The thread of doubt, of fear, of feeling there is never enough love on the universe. Tugging back back, threads to childhood, to abandonment. Primordial curses we are all gifted with.
Imagine the churning of the soil. The regenerative nature of things — from seed, to plant to decomposition to soil again. The exhale of animals, C02 then inhaled by the green ones. Infinite feedback loops.
Why does the emotional landscape feel so unstable, and from where is it feed?
The trick with earth work — It shows us the ways we are nourishment and the ways we need nourishment. To be womb, to be cave. To be the all nourishing abyss for self. The abyss from which are threads are woven, and that all return to.
Earth is source. Trace the lines back to our source, one by one. We discover the unimaginable creativity of creation in love, regeneration and in fragility.