Ignited by divine rage
Grieving, resting, reaching for hope
I will not give up.
No matter how many times fear curls it’s thorny tendrils around me and tries to pull me deep into the pit of overwhelm.
I’ve lived there long enough to know the stories it tells to keep me entangled:
“There’s something wrong with you.”
”You’re not good enough and never will be.”
“You’re all alone and don’t forget it.”
Spells cast to keep me safe.
Fuck you.
I am ready to be seen. To break free.
I want to dance on the grave of the “not enough” beliefs that poisoned the wells we drank from.
I want to link arms and run into the the bright light of:
We are connected, whole and worthy, simply because we are.
I want love to guide us toward the place among the stars where we spiral unapologetically in the tapestry of the cosmos.
Where we touch both the hands of all our ancestors and our future grandchildren's grandchildren's grandchildren.
Where the love that binds us is so strong and powerful that we make miracles with our breath and heal our wounds with a single gentle touch.
Where hate has been drown so deeply in the clear waters of our hearts that we are unafraid to be ourselves out loud knowing we’ll be held unconditionally in one another’s embrace.
You can’t make me second guess this feeling in my bones.
It’s the marrow that we’re made of.
The foundation within us.
There all along.
The place we return to.
I have a new spell for you. It’s simple and it’s true:
We write the fucking rules.
We are unapologetically enough.
Stronger together, we aren’t going anywhere.
Thank you.
I wrote this piece on December 4th in 2023 (which feels like an eternity ago) during a Blue Sky writing group. My hands shook as I read it out loud to our intimate group or writers, poets, artists, humans. I felt something in the words that was larger than me, something I was a little afraid of and simultaneously enlivened by. And I feel that now as I read it today.
I had thought I might share it in the new year, as an anthem for my year ahead, but something in me must have known the time to share was yet to come.
After the election results this week I have been filled with grief, fear, anger, sadness, rage, heartache, and the embers of an inner fire being ignited.
Sometimes I can connect the emotions to specifics: fear for my child’s safety, heartache for humanity and what this will mean for trans rights, women’s rights, and the state of our earth and the environment, among so many other things. Other times the emotions feels so deep it’s as if I’m filled with more than just my own. It’s an ancestral, collective grief.
Allowing myself to feel it all has brought my attention toward reaching for the hope I see in those of us who I know will continue working towards love, justice, compassion, inclusion, and connection.
May we bravely speak out loud the new spells we are writing.
May we reach toward one another with love and care.
May we rest when we need to rest and may we ignite into action when we are strong and ready.
I want to share two poems that were recited in the most recent episode of the Living Myth podcast (more on that below).
It Is I Who Must Begin
by Vaclav Havel
It is I who must begin.
Once I begin, once I try —
here and now,
right where I am,
not excusing myself
by saying things
would be easier elsewhere,
without grand speeches and
ostentatious gestures,
but all the more persistently
— to live in harmony
with the "voice of Being," as I
understand it within myself
— as soon as I begin that,
I suddenly discover,
to my surprise, that
I am neither the only one,
nor the first,
nor the most important one
to have set out
upon that road.
Whether all is really lost
or not depends entirely on
whether or not I am lost.
This second poem is one that I first heard recited by
and which never ceases to bring tears to my eyes.Lost
by David Wagoner
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
Listening to:
A few things helping make sense of these moments and emotions.
Natalie’s Mind Witchery – Always right on time and everything my heart needed to hear, plus permission to grieve in our own ways however that may look or feel to us as individuals:
Lindsay’s Tarot for the Wild Soul – So much supportive wisdom in this:
We Can Do Hard Things – Widening the lens of what is present for so many and pointing towards the necessity of community support. “No one else is going to save us.”
Michael’s Living Myth – Wisdom through poetry directing us to the power within the soul.
Plus, this song on repeat. “Lay me down in the woods. Until I’ve overgrown the things I should. You know I’d love to stay. At least until I can’t feel my bones shake.”
Schedule a creative inquiry call — We’re booking creative projects for January 2025. If you (or someone you know) are looking for design or creative support on a website, branding, book design, etc. please reach out. We’d love to create something wonderful with you!
Visit the Stille Shop — A wellspring of support for tending to the inner tides. More / new things coming soon!
Did you think of someone while reading this? Your best friend, mom, that person from the bookshop, or maybe a long-lost love? Feel free to share it with them. And if you take a moment to click the ♡ I’ll be oh so grateful for the support and encouragement :)
Thank you 🙏 💗
Beautiful, Raina. Thank you for sharing. I feel all of this deeply too.