In our modern world, we have a finite lens of interpretation that we are ever learning to widen to see more of what this world truly is. There is no perfectly neutral lens through which we encounter the sacred. We inherit language, culture, religion, psychology, family, history, wounds, desires and assumptions and all of these become part of the lens through which we perceive.

This means that when we encounter an ancient myth, we are never simply “receiving” it.

We are meeting it through ourselves. And this is where humility becomes essential. The Goddess is larger than our interpretation of her. The mystery is larger than our language for it. The fragment is larger than the story we build around it. Part of being in relationship with gnosis is not becoming certain about what the ancient world meant but becoming increasingly intimate with the places where our own certainty begins to dissolve.

This is where we begin to enter the mystery.

We are raised in a materialistic culture, conditioned into narcissistic lenses of how things can benefit and adorn our fragile and fleeting senses of self. As a woman who has spent the last 10 years of her life, and will spend the rest of her life, excavating the mysteries of the Goddess and living by her eternal womb light, I get frustrated at the way “Divine Feminine” is being projected as online.

What happens when a worlds relationship to the Sacred becomes fragmented? When ancient language becomes undecipherable, ritual contexts become lost, and oral traditions get silenced. What happens when the rose is visually used but its mystery is withheld or when a symbol is shown but its initiatory process is severed. What we have is just an artifact with no living pulse.

Our Modern world is extraordinarily good at using symbols without context or being in genuine relationship to the deeper meaning of these symbols. When we take ancient symbols and sever them from the deeper initiatory, cosmological, erotic, ecological, political, and devotional worlds they came from, we create more confusion dressed as spirituality. Modern Spirituality can take the fragments, the serpent, Mary Magdalene, Isis, Venus, the Ankh, the Rose, and weave them into contemporary spiritual systems.

This is not inherently wrong. Myth is meant to be reinterpreted, but we should know when we are engaging in historical reconstruction and when we are engaging in modern mythopoesis. We do not have to pretend we can perfectly reconstruct what has been lost in order to be in relationship with what remains.

In our modern spiritual culture, we are as lost as Moses in the desert. We long for belonging, we seek through a dictionary book of indigenous cultures, esoteric mysticism, and religious teachings to try to find a place where we can belong. This only revealing the level of disconnection that we feel from our own origins and the universal path of Love.

Image of Venus 8 year cycle geometry

The Goddess is not an aesthetic, she does not dress a certain way, she does not move her body in a certain way, she does not have a color pallet or branding package. She is not interested in your perfect sensual movements or how mysterious you are. She does not care if you shake your ass on Instagram or take a seductive photo and make it into an online course about erotism. She does not care if you submit to your dom daddy to prove that you are “so feminine and submissive”. She does not care what you call her, she cares that you remember what she feels like in your own body.

She is literally the primordial power of life and death, polarity teachings are scraps to what she wants us to remember. She was so dangerous to the systems that sought to control her that they had to hide her for thousands of years.

The Goddess rages for justice, she grieves, destroys, burns, nourishes, desires, descends, resurrects, creates. She is inherently paradoxical and untamable. She was never meant to be merely beautiful, palletable, or well- liked.

She does not care. and maybe that stings a little.

Maybe we long for her approval a little, I know a part of me did for a while. I made lavish altars, prayers to the earth, years spent reclaiming my eros and body as sacred, devotionally studying the feminine mysteries and path of Venus, pouring myself into the Sacred. It was not for no reason; I had to remember my soul’s blueprint to get to the realization that what she is asking for is so much simpler than we make it.

Goddess is Gnosis. You can read 100 books about Aphrodite and still not know eros. You can memorize every story of Inanna and never descend into your own underworld. You can wear the rose and never understand surrender. You can worship Venus and still be terrified of your own longing and desires.

The Goddess becomes real not when we know about her, but when the myth begins to reorganize the way we inhabit our lives.

That’s the mythopoetic path. This is the living path of the Goddess.

Her myth becomes something we live.

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When I first began journeying with the Rose Lineage 6 years ago, I had no idea what I was actually saying yes to. I had walked up until that point with a passionate love for the Earth Mother, for uncovering Truth, and walking in Mysteries however I was guided to. So, when this path presented itself to me, I felt the burning yes in my heart and leaned in. I had no idea how much it would rearrange my entire life, I could have never foreseen the level of depth, cosmology, and remembrance was awaiting me and continues to reveal.

I walk with Venus as a living mythic intelligence. Her rose petaled path is a mystery school that continues to reveal the mysteries of life itself. I am not speaking of Venus as a planetary body. I do not refer to her in the context of the roman cult or distorted hierarchical principles. I am speaking to her cyclical wisdom that reveals the living path of women right now.

The Rose Lineage path is a feminine wisdom lineage that walks with the cycles and ancient wisdom of Venus. In this lineage, Venus is studied both in her cosmological dance in the sky and as the animating principle of the Goddess that moves through as a living thread across cultures and teachings. And there is an important historical integrity point here: contemporary “Rose Lineage” teachings are not best presented as a single, demonstrably unbroken ancient priestess institution. Contemporary practitioners themselves describe the Rose lineage as a remembered or reconstructed lineage assembled through fragments, study, embodiment and personal gnosis.

My teachers gathered threads and teachings for 25 years before weaving together a year and a day spiral that walks a women through such an in-depth living transmission of mysteries. In my walk with this lineage, I have come to bare witness to the power of mythos, imaginal descent and ascent, and the living meaning of mythopoetic experience.

You don’t have to believe the myth literally for the myth to transform you.

Inanna can become a map for descent.

Aphrodite can become a language for eros.

Persephone can become an encounter with seasonal death.

The Goddess becomes verb, not a noun.

Not something you believe in, but something you enter into relationship with.

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Before our modern minds divided the sacred feminine into thousands of names and archetypes, there was an ancient gnosis of the Great Mother: the mystery of life itself as generative, nourishing, destructive, erotic, fertile and ultimately unknowable.

Great Mother. Gaia-Ma, Sophia, Asherah. . A reoccurring Mystery that could never be silenced.

She of many names but one uncompromising principle. She was undivided before patriarchal rule took over the culture of stories and mythology. Before the original teachings got co-opted and scriptures got buried and burned. Before the wise women and priestesses were forced into hiding and persecuted for the Gnosis that blazed in their eyes and body.

And somewhere beneath all of our modern interpretations, the aesthetics and algorithms and endless language of “divine feminine embodiment,” there remains a much older invitation:

Know thyself.
Remember your body.
Reclaim your desire.
Come home the earth.
Inhabit the mystery.

The Goddess I am interested in is not an archetypal costume or an identity to perform, but a living relationship to Gnosis. As the intelligence that asks us to remember that we are not separate from the mystery we spend our lives seeking.

Perhaps the ancient wisdom isn’t waiting somewhere behind us in a perfect lost civilization but waiting in the fragments and forgotten depths,

Awaiting inside the woman willing to listen deeply enough to let them become alive again.

With Love & Roses,

Grace Asharah

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Join me for a 14 day journey of poetry, somatic movement, and reclaiming of creative eros- We begin Sept 2nd!

Beloved on Fire

I have had so many life experiences that were beyond ordinary, absolutely mystical and otherworldly, and the echo of my inner voice after these unfolding’s is always

“Stay Quiet”

“Take it in”

“Let it all marinate”

There are some life experiences I have sat with for decades or more and as they simmer inside, new layers of meaning reveal. Beyond even meaning, language has a time to catch up to the experience that transcended anything this world knows how to describe.

As a mythosomatic being, I cannot help but track the deeper layers of meaning and hidden mythos woven into reality. Sometimes the magic is obvious, and sometimes it is encoded. Other times, we just do not see the significance until we are standing outside of that moment.

It’s not always a booming voice of the Divine, an obvious hit onto your head of a synchronicity or an undeniable mystical vision. Sometimes it’s that quiet knowing of a response of the wind after you pour your heart out in prayers to the earth and sky. Sometimes it’s that homeless man who gives you a smile when you walk by and feel like you want to cry. Sometimes it’s just the way the tree hugs you back when you collapse into its thick and wise bark.

When Spirit reveals herself in ordinary moments, we can sometimes discount the significance. Yet, I have had enough psychedelic experiences that reveal the ever-present synchronic presence of the Divine to know that this conversation is happening all the time. We often are just not present enough with Reality to see it.

When we get given a glimpse and sync to the other world, there is a part of our consciousness that remembers something integral to being human. Suddenly nature and the Soul are in kindred motion together and the world reveals its on-going symphony that we can often forget. But those tiny moments are like when we find the harmony in a song we have been trying to learn how to sing.

To try to place language on the ineffable silence that speaks and the living mysteries of life experiences that we can become open to in life feels futile.

All the mystiks, artists, and poets do it though, we cannot help but try to create a bridge from the otherworld’s to this one. It moves from a place beyond the desire to be understood, we attempt to put language to the unspeakable because we know our experiences create pathways for others. These great visionaries and wild artists have matured into the understanding of how to remain porous to something they cannot fully explain.

The poem becomes a vessel

The painting becomes a doorway

The ritual becomes a relationship to the Mystery.

It’s not about an exact formula or reaching a conclusion but being in dialogue with the Great Mystery herself.

To rush and put words on a transformational experience is one thing, it’s another to immediately attempt to turn that experience around and turn it into a package deal for someone else. There is a lot of confusion around this in our modern times.

I have been rewatching Wild Wild Country, which if you have not seen I highly suggest if you're into spiritual community controversy, late 1900’s awakening, and studying cult mentalities. To me, they weren’t just a cult but a catalyst that certainly stirred the pot and reveals so much around power, the fall of the Guru era, and this worlds fear of the unknown. But that’s an entirely different conversation.

I bring this up because as I was watching last night, my partner and I were discussing the bliss it must of been to just savor creating a spiritual community, learning eastern mysticism and living a spiritual life without the pressure to monetize it online or share a picture on instagram. Only 50 years ago, none of these things existed. The way spirituality has become coopted by western cult-ure is the reason Yeshua flipped the tables in the temple way back.

Well, here we stand again.

I know a lot of us are wanting to flip these tables. Converting ancient wisdom into an online course or weekend retreat can feel like diluting a transmission that was always intended to be passed down through lived experience and elders who have walked the path we are now saying yes to. But, without elders, wisdom keepers, and community network, we are lost and attempting to reach for a sense of belonging by reaching through a glass screen to feel valued.

In the longing to be understand, there is a sense of urgency that can take over. Being washed by a powerful experience and then running to figure out how to make some instagram slides about it. This is not how we integrate wisdom into our lives.

We are living in an era where revelation can be turned into content before it has become wisdom. There is a big difference between sharing about what has transformed you and harvesting that transformation before it has been completed.

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Gnosis does not need to prove itself. Gnosis is not having answers but being so intimate with the mystery that we do not need them. When that flower opens inside your heart, when the fire crackles right as you have that thought, when those shivers move up your spine when you hear that song, when your given a walk through the otherworldly planes upon earth. . .

Language is the last thing that is going to make it make sense.

Our minds long to have the mystical “make sense” To make the mystical worlds practical and comprehensive. But sometimes, these experiences are actually meant to just leave us in awe. To leave every cell in our body gaping open with wonder as to how creation could be so miraculous, in the living proof that Great Mystery, is indeed the Greatest Mystery.

Before we say “This was a synchronicity” perhaps we notice, everything went silent in that moment.

or before we decide this was a message from Spirit, we feel the way the hairs on the arm stood up and a bird flew overhead at the same time. .

Sensation always comes before mythology.

We need to learn to marinate, soak in the majesty of what our own bodies are interpreting through sensation, genetic and somatic memory, allowing your own inner myth to be awakened before searching for meaning outside of self too quickly.

There is another big difference between experiencing the mystery and explaining the mystery. We can rush to the understanding before we really sit with the medicine of what this experience is inviting us to feel. Meaning can be slowly metabolized through our bodies, not just passed to the mind like another file in the endless filing system up there.

I am not speaking as some anti-interpretation ideology, I have just observed endlessly the way we touch something mystical and immediately attempt to reach for an archetype, story, or symbol that relates it to our own mythic landscape.

Sometimes experiences need to haunt us a little, give them space to change shape and evolve, to let it contradict the interpretations you originally gave it and let it become a living teaching.

The body can hold the Mystery in a way the mind cannot.

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The mind wants to take an event, give it meaning, and anchor it into a safe box of conclusion.

Yet the body can hold an experience, feel its sensations, notice the resonance points, let it drift into the cellular memory, and let it ripple on repeat as it integrates into a deeper knowing.

This is where we begin to embody our mystical experiences and become the living transmission.

We are here to be changed by the Mystery, to experience it so fully that we are left undressed in the majesty of such a holy fire. This feels like a wisdom I can never leave behind, because my Soul has always longed to be in commune with this Mysterious Truth.

I desire to write poems that echo Love beyond comprehension, to paint what i can not make sense of, to create a life that makes me feel alive and live it so fully that my last exhale is the first in another world.

We are not here to capture the Mystery, we are here to savor it.

To let it be lived before we go and teach it, to let it change you before you package it up for someone else.

and if you do not yet have the words for what has happened to you. .

good, that means the Mystery is still beating her drum in your heart.

With Love + Wildness,

Grace Asharah

If you are longing for a space to deepen your relationship to your inner myth through poetry, somatics, and creative eros- Join me for a 14 day journey called Beloved on Fire- Link below with all the details-

Beloved on Fire

After 12 years and countless lifetimes, I think my soul has finally come to understand something about incarnating into this realm. I am certainly not a master, but I have gathered treasure troves of gems and celestial seeds that are one by one integrating into the breath of this existence I am blessed to call my life.

I have walked through many worlds. It was yoga that changed the course of my life at 17, but it was the NDE that changed my life 2 years before, and it was my father leaving my life 5 years before that, which was the catalyst of crisis that beckoned me to search for anything at all.

Developing an eating disorder and having repeated health crisis’s after my father left took my wild creative soul into the pits of the underworld, little did that little girl know this would not be the only time she would walk through that valley. At the time, i was just trying to get through middle school after missing almost an entire year of school because of how sick I was.

When I found yoga my senior year of high school, I also rediscovered art after years of covering my artist with addiction, distractions, and the feelings of just trying to survive. That feeling that unfortunately fills so many souls with a weariness that can become unbearable.

Yet, through the trials, triumphs and tribulations of being a soul remembering itself inside of a body. A body remembering it is a temple for the Soul. It seems that no matter how far or how deep you go into the path, you always return to where the journey began.

I had a profound mystical experience when I was 18, that one day I know I am destined to share about, but it is not time yet. That experience changed my entire earth walk, ripped me straight through the cosmic womb and into what felt like an entirely new incarnation. From that experience, I began searching for Divine Consciousness like it was a full-time job.

My identity of “Grace” felt light years away for almost 2 years. I had gone into somewhat of a functional spiritual psychosis, or what some older mystics would call an unplanned kundalini awakening. I felt like an orb of pure consciousness, radiant bliss, an eternal stream of remembering that was pouring in and out of me. I see now how essential it was to experience this before the rest of my integration journey began.

Amidst this, I wanted to find God inside of everything, I hungered to understand what had happened to me in that mystical experience. So, I deepened my path with yoga, pursued energetic healing modalities, explored psychedelics, and let the mystery fully take the wheel of my life. That decision guided me down a long rainbow road of countless discoveries and remembrances.

It becomes so easy to adopt a sense of addiction to spiritual intensity. I was not aware of it, but I was lusting for God, ready to devour and digest any and every way I could find the Divine. Earth medicines, indigenous ways of life and ceremonies, tantra, non-dual (Advaita), priestess path, feminine mythos, ancestral healing, quantum reality, herbalism, healing with crystals, sound, touch, art…

you get it.

I was insatiable.

Yet, with all of this, I sit here in a rose scented bathtub with some sage burning from my favorite desert lands and writing this with all these things casted to the wind. Almost as naked as I was of any spiritual knowledge when I had that life changing mystical experience.

The Truth is that spiritual knowledge gets heavy.

and God-dess likes us empty.

I have had it removed from me already a few times. Back when I was 19, I was guided to my first non-dual teacher, blessed Mooji Baba. After almost a year of deep saturation into his meditations, inquiries and Satsang's, he came to me in a dream and pretty much told me I needed to let him go.

For days I wept, felt confused, was trying to hold on to him until I understood what was really being asked of me. His spirit was asking me to let him go not the Truth I had remembered in my heart. It is so easy to attach our discoveries to people, lineage, talismans, and places.

But Truth, real capital “T” Truth, is not concerned with these things.

Not long after this time in my life, the Great Mystery guided me into the sacred lineage of the Taino, the indigenous peoples of Puerto Rico. Little did I know, this path was about to be the rest of my life. Yet on the way of walking with this powerful medicine of sweat lodge, vision quests, and dancing, I got attached again.

After my 3rd year dancing in the danza de la Luna, I had my backpack of all of my sacred stolen out of our rental car in Costa Rica. Every beaded sacred necklace, stone, and tool I had been praying with in the previous 6 years. Gone, with no trace. And this was the second time I realized how much power I was giving to something outside of me. As if the earth was no longer my altar, as if my prayers for humanity and creation lived in those sacred objects and not my heart.

That was a rude awakening, and an omen for the years that were to come that my sweet eyes could not yet see.

Alas this is a spiral path, one that will bring you back but never in the same way that you were. Choosing to walk with God-dess is not a simple A to B path that can satisfy the linear charts of this world. No, it will shatter you and remake you when you let it. we can resist that kind of decimation, cling to the life we knew, the versions of ourselves that have kept us safe, but it often does not last long.

We either consciously participate in our transformational journey, or we make ourselves a victim to the demolition.

We are very complex creatures.

We have a symbol for everything, a story and metaphor for every turn of the spiral, and this is part of what makes us such devastatingly beautiful humans.

Yet Truth is simple. It is so simple we cannot even fathom it.

I think we secretly hate how simple it is, so we have created endless games to discover it and forget it.

Or perhaps we love just coming back to zero point and realizing that now we get to let everything go. It doesn’t matter what alien race is controlling who or if Jesus was a yogi and had a priestess wife. It was never about how long you can hold your breath after a 2-hour kundalini breathwork session or if you can breakdown the subconscious layers of your own shadow.

and that can be as liberating as it is heartbreaking to continue to come back and realize. It is certainly not all for nothing, consciousness loves to play. We long to explore the eternal landscape of discovery, peak under every rock just to find God’s face again.

But when does that searching end, when do we rest in the peace of knowing that all is here

and

here is all we will ever have.

to be continued. .

We are carved by our relationship to life, beauty, to that which is unseen. All of it quietly sculpts us into something that is beyond what the eyes can see. Our bodies are filled with riverbeds of memories, past present and future.

Our blood like waters of life that cannot be bound to time. Our bones like ancient old growth forests, containing ancient memories and stories of the ancestors that have come before and ripple into the future ancestors.

There is something essential in the reality that we are timelessly connected. That the boundaries between who we are, who our ancestors were, and what we are becoming blurs when we connect to this great holy web of life.

This is the wisdom that keeps our roots deep in times when artificial networks of information are trying to take over. As if computers could replicate the brilliance of mycelium network, as if a robot could create what the hands of a human being can, as if an artificial womb can ever replace the original womb matrix of woman. Yet, these are the times we face, and being connected to the earth and our bodies has never been more essential.

As a woman who has spent the last 10 years of her life in deep study and practice with the Earth Mother, her mystery school of elements and prayers, and the lineage of the Mother Goddess, a relationship to the unseen and pulse of eros is not foreign. A personal relationship with the Goddess is like coming home after thousands of lifetimes and pouring each drop of a lifetime into the holy grail that is this life.

Our remembrance is a river of life, a fire that burns so bright other souls gravitate towards it, a song in the wind that echoes across the collective subconscious whispering

“Remember who you are”

Our bodies and her body are one, and the lifeline of this gnosis is buried deep in the womb of womankind. Women are remembering, because it is an ecological and cosmological map that lives within us that is inseparable from who we are. The awakening is not an ephemeral dream; it is a celestial seed that has been taking root in the heart of humanity for a long time.

and our bodies and the body of the earth remembers.

Photo Collage + Photos by me

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It is the inner landscape; the inner architecture of the soul that composes the symphony we feel in another’s eyes. It’s all the tears we don’t see cried, the stories that live in the bones and stones of the body and earth, that echoes wisdom that needs no explanation. It speaks a language our human tongues cannot speak because it is reverberated in silence. The felt sensation of someone who lives from the depth of the soul is like the feeling we encounter when we walk through an old growth forest.

A feeling that something deep has gone untouched and undisturbed. A fragrance of Soul emitted in the presence of those that walk in their soul skin.

Across human stories, the common threads and arches of human transformation hold profound similarities. Archetypes are qualities of the subconscious that act like nodal points in the psyche. A map that can be followed through the darkness to bring the soul back to its own origin. Every archetype holds a spectrum of wisdom, shadow and light in a perfect balance to reveal the layers of human experiencing.

Archetypes are not just qualities of the psyche, they also appear as object, elements, bodies of land that speak a language that merges the seen and unseen world. They serve as essential qualities that the soul grows through, offering a living map of alchemical transformation when we come into relationship with these qualities of life. I could write a whole other post about this, and perhaps I will.

Stories are part of what makes us human, our ability to transmit through stories is a way we restore remembrance of who we are in relationship to life. There are many stories that speak to how the soul and body have become separated. Every ancient tradition has a story, and many stories, to express these mysteries and the ever-evolving human search for Spirit.

Some ancient traditions don’t speak of it as seeking though, in many indigenous cultures I have worked with I never hear an elder tell me there is something to search for. I have been taught time and time again to come into relationship with life and let life remind me what is real. It always comes back to remembrance, because we truly already know.

Beneath all the conditioning, destructive beliefs and false architectures we inherited in our way of thinking and from trauma, we know what can never be truly forgotten.

The deepest epidemic we face is a humanity that has lost its relationship to life, Spirit, and Self. Seeing all these things as separate instead of integrally connected in an eco-system with life. With this collective forgetfulness, we bear witness to a species that can single handedly destroy more eco systems and species in less than a hundred years than any of our animal brothers or sisters on this planet.

And I honestly do not blame humans. There is far more cosmological narrative here that can also be an entirely other substack post.

But humanity is at a profound choice point right now.

In the old Celtic story, there is the infamous tales of the Selkie. A Selkie is a seal woman who sheds her skin beneath the moonlight to walk upon the land. A man discovers her sealskin and hides it from her making her unable to return to the sea. Some stories say she falls in love, some say he stole it and forces her to be with him, but either way she builds a life on land and leaves the ocean behind. She marries, raises children and learns the customs of the human world. From the outside, it appears she has everything.

But something essential has gone quiet.

and no matter how much she tried to love the life she has, something inside her is being eaten alive by a longing she cannot name.

She has forgotten not only where her skin is, but what it felt like to belong to the sea. The vast open waters of mystery that complete a woman’s psyche. A woman is half human and half mystery. We walk between worlds; we carry the seen and unseen worlds and guard the thresholds of these sacred rites between them.

Clarissa Pinkola Estés wrote of the sealskin as the soul skin, which I love so deeply. She speaks to it as the instinctive, untamed layer of ourselves that remembers our belonging to the living world. Our soul skin is not our personality, but the membrane through which we experience ourselves as inseparable from rivers, wolves, stars, grief, beauty, and one another.

This is why women are raging, drastically breaking free from the paradigms of confinement, breaking out of cages that has kept feminine aliveness, sensuality, and mystery locked down for centuries. There is a hunger to return to something deeper, the innocent current of eros and aliveness that lives even further down the road of erotic lingerie and kink play. There is a somatic longing to feel safe in the soul skin, to remember a feeling of belonging beyond a mental comprehension of “all life is connected”

We long to feel it riveting up our spines,

bubbling in our vulva,

and singing out of our ancient dragon tongues in giggles and hymns of liberation.

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We speak often of the climate crisis as though it were merely a scientific or geo political dilemma, measured in carbon, degrees, emissions, and graphs. Everyone has a perspective on this. Some stand to blame humanities choices and corporations, others say the earth has never been stable and every so thousand of years the planet goes into climate crisis’s, some blame agriculture and the government, you get what I am saying. What I see beneath the numbers and perspectives, that are all valid, lives another crisis that cannot be quantified.

It is a crisis of relationship.

We have become astonishingly capable of extracting from a world we no longer experience as kin.

Forests become timber.

Rivers become infrastructure.

Mountains become deposits.

Minerals become empires.

Attention becomes a commodity.

Even our own nervous systems become resources to optimize in this world.

The systems feed off our dysregulated and disconnected bodies like a food farm of life force. The old stories warned us of this long before we possessed the technologies to enact it at planetary scale. We are taught to treat our bodies like machines, basing our sense of a successful life to productivity, how many steps we take in a day, and how much output we had in a day, as if the mysteries of being human can be quantified into metrics.

Every time the Selkie’s skin is hidden, something wild loses its way.

The power of story is that there is always layers of meaning. One story can be peeled back into so many directions to point to the deeper meanings of life. Not just information, but gnosis, life force, and the holy flames of eros.

Stories endure because they are not explanations, they are living ecosystems of meaning. Every generation walks into the same myth carrying different questions, and the myth reveals another chamber.

The Selkie is a story about a woman, and it is also a story about the soul, colonization, feminine initiation, eros, the earth..its meaning can reveal through so many lenses. Every true myth contains more life than any single interpretation can exhaust.

Eros connects us to life. It is what invites us to feel the forest pulsing beneath our feet, presence ourselves to the mighty power of a mountain, and hear the stories in the wind of a place.

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In Hesiod's Theogony, Eros appears near the very beginning of creation. It is spoken of as not merely desire, but as one of the primordial ordering forces of the cosmos. Later philosophers also understood eros as the movement that draws beings toward one another, toward beauty, toward completion. The exact meanings differ across traditions, but a common thread is that eros is more than romance; it is a force of magnetism and a living relationship.

It is the impulse that guides our ancestors’ thirsty bodies to the river, a child to their mothers’ breast, and our Soul’s towards God, Goddess, Source. However, you see the totality and all its holy names.

Every healthy eco- system is erotic.

Eros is the intelligence by which life continually enters into relationship with itself. Like the way a bee is drawn toward the flower and the flower opens to the bee. There is a symbiosis and harmonic relationship happening that feeds the entire eco system.

I think its important to distinguish what eroticism really is. It is not soley sexual, sex is just one expression of eros. But eros is a pulse of creation that pulls us into intimate relationship with existence. Eros is present in grief, in the way roots exchange nutrients to fungi, in the artist as they commune with a vision, and the way wolves can reshape an entire watershed by returning to a landscape.

Eros is something far more intricate than simple sexuality. It is an intimate relationship with life and death. The way fallen trees become nurseries for new forest growth, rot becomes new life, birds scatter seeds, insects aerate the rich dense soil, everything is in relationship. And its utterly erotic.

Nature has taught me more about eros than any tantric teacher or polarity coach ever will. Just an afternoon watching the way a river glides across stones is fit for a gushing series of revelations on the tender and slow partnership life is in with itself.

Modern civilization celebrates the hyper-independent and autonomous individuals while nature has celebrated participation for billions of years. We will see who wins again. Somehow this myth of independence has created such a hierarchical paradigm that the more one disconnects from life and climbs the ladder of artificial success, the more money and power is gained. There is always a tradeoff. I am not saying good hearted and ecologically minded people cannot have success, but I am speaking to a larger scale of what we are witnessing on our Mother Planet right now.

No wolf hunts alone forever.

No forest grows without decay.

No child develops without attachment.

Our own bodies are not singular. We are a living community of human cells, bacteria, fungi, mitochondria, viruses, and countless other organisms living in dynamic relationship within us every day. Biologists often describe us as ecosystems rather than isolated individuals.

Because we are an eco system, and nature has always mirrored this to us.

Perhaps the deepest myth we inherited is not original sin but the spell of separateness.

Extraction interrupts reciprocity. Systems that value utility over relationship and removes our ability to be in participation with life is an anti-life system. These systems ruling over the planetary body are truly as impermenant are each of us, yet the dominance and control is creating profound impact.

Perhaps this is one of the many reasons mother gaias daughters and the warriors of love have been awakening upon this earth. I think there are many reasons for this dominoe effect of consciousness that truly goes beyond all reason at all. Again, how to quantify infinity.

Mother Earth is not asking us to save her from the patriarchy.

She has survived asteroid impacts, volcanic winters, and mass extinctions, she is unimaginably resilient, she is not standing tapping her foot at humanity angry at us.

I feel her asking us something more intimate and alive, her ground is echoing with a drumbeat saying :

Remember how to participate, dance in my rivers, plant your seeds, pray with the land that remembers you.

The crisis is not simply that ecosystems are collapsing and the government is to blame.

It is that we, as a species, have forgotten that we are ecosystems. That the river outside and the river inside obey the same laws. The forest outside and the forest of the nervous system both flourish through diversity, reciprocity, rhythm, and relationship.

When we heal one while ignoring the other, we remain divided.

Perhaps the work of this century is not merely ecological restoration or personal healing but remembering that these were never two separate projects.

And maybe that is what eros has been whispering since the beginning: life does not become more alive through domination or isolation. It becomes more alive by entering ever-deeper circles of relationship, where every being both gives and receives,

shapes and is shaped.

That is the kind of ecology that is not only biological. It is mythic, somatic, and spiritual all at once. It invites us to see the living world not as a backdrop for human life, but as a vast, ongoing dance of participation in which we have always belonged.

The deepest souls have walked a long road.

A road that no ego would want to choose, yet before incarnated, they promised to fulfill. Every life experience is encoded somewhere in the soul, and they’re are octaves that we scale like a song throughout our life. We are not bound or defined by our experiences, but we are forged and carved by them.

Something I have learned through my short but potent 30 years in this body, is that this earth school has unavoidable curriculum. We must meet the lessons that stretch the Soul into the body, crack open with aches and grief, be pressed onto our knees in humility to begin to comprehend the vastness of it all. But we don’t stay there, we are equally guided into the ever-present illumination of Love.

Because no matter how deeply we come to know the Divine, we still dance with our own humanity. There is no leaving our humanity behind in ascension. To be fully Human and Divine has always been the alchemical nous that was spoken about in gnostic texts and pointed to in the Gospel of Mary Magdalene.

The ancients had a word for it, Anthropos. In ordinary Greek, anthropos simply means “human.” But in many mystical traditions, including certain Gnostic, Platonic, Hermetic, and Jewish mystical streams, it points to a deeper state of being.

Anthropos points to a Humanity before division.

Before the soul and the skin where ever seperate.

It is an original wholeness that came long before humanity and divinity began to be separated. This is the original nature that so many longs to feel and inhabit, not just a disembodied ascension. But a state of gnosis that includes our own humanity. There is inherent paradox inside of all of life..

We are here to dance with the ebbs and flows that move like water across stone,

slowly forming a new landscape that only future ancestor’s eyes will see

With love

Grace Asharah

Join me for a 14 day mythosomatic writing online pilgrimage called BELOVED ON FIRE, beginning September 1st. We will be exploring the arts of romancing and inhabiting the voice of the inner muse, archetypal storytelling and embodied ritual through somatic and poetry prompts. Get your wild muse + pen ready, were in for a ride.

Message me for details.

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When people told me that my Saturn return would rock me, I spiritually bypassed the sh*t out of that Truth. Now there is nothing to spiritually bypass or even spiritualize. There has been no more escape route, no more sweat lodge to dive my body into, no more ecstatic dances to dance my problems away, no more spiritual community to bypass the harsh realities of being human. No more medicine except the one beating in my own heart and has been since this entire journey started.

Everything feels stripped from me.

Except for my faith.

and my capacity for Love.

And I am talkin’ that capital “L” L o v e that will hold you in your darkest hour and give you the strength to dance when you feel like crawling.

All of this initiation and loss is collapsing any sense of certainty. On an embodied level, learning that what is truly alive within my soul, can never die. This is more about deep trust in myself and what it takes to continue to walk the path even after the map is burnt in the fire you once tended.

I can no longer abandon myself in pursuit of the woman I imagined God wanted me to be. I have to just love myself for who I am.

And that is scarier than loving the version of myself I thought I was meant to be.

I have gone through so many deaths in this life, so why does this one feel so different? I have left college and disappointed the family, hiked the Appalachian trail, traveled to different farms to work trade, lived with the earth and outside of capitalism to the best of my ability, immersed into an endless list of healing modalities, mystery schools and indigenous ceremonies, yet for some reason all of this has been the most intensive initiation of my life.

Why was it so easy to let so many versions of myself go but this one grips to me like it’s my final breath?

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Maybe because I became so certain. I started to think I knew who I was. Created a whole life around ritual, nature, and community. And those parts of me are True, which is why it has ached so deeply to let it all go. And learn to steward the pieces that are authentic to my soul and let everything else burn.

Perhaps it is also because the spiritual ego is the last dominoes to fall in the face of true freedom, purpose, and impact. This is liberation work. What a perfectly enlightened architecture we can weave a mask of and let our own minds trick us into believing. And how many spiritual leaders do we see falling these days who were upholding a multi-million dollar spiritual empire yet were out of integrity and perpetuating an abusive system behind their glittery and enlightened masks.

Luckily, that was not my karma in this life. But the Spiritual community is being bashed left and right these days and its defiantly not because God isn’t the Truth. It’s because we as humans are learning how to embody truth without collapsing or distorting it in systems that are designed to leave no room for self-realization.

Welcome to modern day capitalism, we cannot spiritually bypass our way out of it. We have to grow new systems from the ground up.

In the last 2 years I have had countless identities shed, a months’ worth of to-do list of relationships gone, 7 homes moved in and out of, and an endless stream of old beliefs illuminated and integrating. I left behind an entire life that I thought was my destiny. And I grieved. endless rivers streamed from my eyes and dripped down to my heart.

I thought I understood what it meant to be emptied, my young non-dual yogi self had lots of experiences swimming in the vast sea of being and through the void of Great Mystery. For the old soul that we are, we can still get lessons thrown out of left field that’s for sure.

We cannot avoid the curriculum of our karma;

it is the exact material that reveals our dharma.

Image: Unknown

But this is a different kind of empty than those nirvanic non-dual states I discovered within the oceanic abyss of my own inner heart. It’s not a transcendent emptiness that leaves me feeling like I am floating in a cloud of eternal bliss.

Foor awhile it felt like the kind of emptiness that looks like all your furniture in your house being robbed and leaving you standing in an empty house. Like the unspeakable silence after hours of crying with only your own soul to comfort you.

But now, it’s the kind of empty that is unattached to the outcome of how the dream should look or who I should be while living in alignment with my soul. It is the empty that is not holding on to what was, what can be, or any “should be’s” at all.

It’s the empty that has no more negotiation with grief, identity, or belief.

Its the empty that doesn’t need a new brand, identity, or explanation of why or who I am. Its just me, empty handed with aa heart full of devotion and ready for what God-Dess wants to fill me with.

Now there is a deeper gnosis of what it meant when Mooji Baba, my beloved non-dual mirror, would tell my 19-year-old seeker to stay empty. I did not realize how full I had become. With spiritual knowledge, with experiences, with ideas of what I though God was asking me to be.

They all really did need to go to see clearly again.

I was more attached than I realized. I had a lot more ideas of how I thought God wanted me to fulfill my mission than my ego mind would admit. I thought I knew how it all worked, that I had reached some level of mastery because of all the inner work I had been doing.

Throughout my 20s I was determined to be a voice for Love, to heal my lineage, to remember who I am so that I can serve in a larger capacity. I laid some big prayers down, not always knowing what I was really saying yes to when I would make this sacred covenants to nature and the Beloved.

I was also humbled by my own karma and journey many times regardless of my devotion. And I am still being humbled by my mistakes. Still learning to forgive myself and learn from all the lessons so that I can live fully present in the life that is here right now. Sometimes even our highest aspirations and purest of intentions become an identity in disguise.

And that can become dangerous territory. When we wrap our identity around devotion instead of Love itself, we subtly begin serving the identity instead of Love itself.

Then Love, in its strange and miraculous mercy, dismantles even the identity built around serving Love. And that’s a humility that must be lived to be known.

It is also radically human and there is nothing wrong with striving to do our best and still having to learn karmic lessons.

Karma is the gift that makes our illusions known, not just a consequence. iIt's not simply cause and effect, its far deeper. Karma serves us as a catlsyt because Love refuses to let us make a home in the illusions we have about ourselves and this world. Karma is like the Divine’s way of saying, not that way, try this way.

Image: Grace Asharah

Faith isn’t about knowing the answers, it’s how we continue to walk even when all answers and even the path dissolves before our eyes. It’s how we move through the world when all certainty is stripped away, but the knowing of who is always with you remains.

It’s been hard to hold on to anything. My consciousness is rapidly metamorphosing weekly through what feels like endless tunnels of rebirth. Like watching a flower go from a seed to sprout to flower back to a seed in a frame by frame movie playing on repeat. We get so caught up in a final identity. In some grand finale of Buddha enlightenment.

There is no final arrival is the hardest thing to comprehend to any seeker and perhaps any human. There is no grand escape plan from samsara, there is not avoiding the wheel of life. Spirituality isn’t here to make us escape the wheel, its here to remind us how to ride the waves. It is the dance of learning how to become increasingly more intimate with existence, not transcending it into a disembodied oblivion.

Surfs up Beloveds, we incarnated for a reason.

I cannot control this constant domino cascade right now in my life. I can only release expectations, the illusion of pressure, and the idea that I should have it all together by now. As if my soul has a deadline to follow. As if my becoming is put into any worldly calendar. I would be doing a disservice to what wants to grow in me if I was to force my evolution forward instead of trusting the pace my soul is here to breathe with.

and Lemmie tell you, this Saturn in Aries moving through my second house is like a tug o war.

A push n pull between my desire to create impact and share my artistry and the deeper soul lessons around worth, value, belonging, and embodiment. All of it is teaching me the power of creation, to make art because my soul sings for it to be made. To stay inspired even if no one applauds.

Saturn is the forge. Like the hand of Michaelangelo slowly chipping away at a masterpiece. There is both pressure and slowing down to see a bigger picture. The heat does not create the integrity, it exposes where things can collapse. The pressure reveals where the foundation is weak and the cracks that could make a home into ash.

Tending this fire in my bones as all my old altars are closed. This has been deep medicine for me but the hardest medicine I have ever had to swallow.

Image: Kealey Rae

There has been an endless ocean of grief to dance in these last years. but I have started to realize something.

I am ultimately grieving the version of myself that thought she knew the way her life was meant to unfold.

The version of myself who held her tobacco high and walked like she knew the way.

The version of me who sacrificed her needs and poured her heart into endless ceremonies, studies, and lineage work.

The version of me who collapsed in grief and heartbreak when everyone looked away and acted like she was a warrioress who could save her own day.

Spiritual strength became the armor that fit the story that I could not trust anyone anyway.

And the deeper grief is knowing that that medicine woman in me was not wrong, she was exhausted. She was carrying the weight of the awakening on her shoulders as if it was her responsibility to change the world one prayer and song at a time. And then life did what it does, asked me to become more human.

It’s a unique grief you touch when the version of yourself who brought you to this point can no longer come with you. The version of you completed the assignment, and now a new mystery unfolds.

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I’m not the author.

I only understood that on an intellectual level, until I committed to Wild Gnosis.

I thought I understood that I was not in charge, that God has a plan, but now I know I am just a page gripped in the hand of the Beloved. Like a sacred scroll that’s been buried for centuries and ready to be delivered when God says so.

We love the little quote, “Not your plan, Gods plan.” But what does that really mean? Few are willing to actually go into the immense mystery that lives beneath those 5 words.

It means relinquishing authorship, not agency. It means bowing to the Great Mystery that knows you better than you know yourself. You let yourself become more of an instrument than a novelist.

2 years ago, at the threshold of this journey I have been on now, I had a profound experience with a sacred tree. Its a long story, one I may tell one day. But this great sister tree had alot to tell me, and she changed the course of my entire life very quickly. I fell into a dream-like state for multiple hours at the feet of her wild branches blowing prayer ties and echoes of memories.

When i fell into this dream-like state she brought me into her etheric roots, she whispered secrets of how we die and become reborn. Amidst this altered experience, that was while I was totally sober by the way, I asked this sister tree,

“Why are you sharing all of this with me?”

and what she responded changed my life.

She said :
”Because you are not attached to being something, so you can hear everything. Everyone wants to be something, and then they cannot truly listen.”

Then I had a flash of visions, as if this tree was changing the entire architecture of my life, which when I emerged from this experience, she may very well did do such a thing.

My purpose in sharing this is that, we are not in charge. I am not in charge. And the more I try to fulfil a role, no matter how sacred and righteous, the less I can hear Truth clearly.

Life will guide us to be many things and serve in many ways, but none of it is who we truly are.

Image: Grace Asharah

To continue to say yes to life after everything you knew your life to has burned away is the bravest act. It’s a process to learn to love a life that you are learning how to live in, a life that does not look the way you imagined it would.

It is easy to say yes to life when life confirms your visions, when your career is thriving, and the mission feels clear. But those phases when its fall apart, we are cornered by the Divine to say a big bold “Yes”

And that takes some serious faith.

This process is not about becoming someone new or dressing up as a new identity, which can be rather common. Different costumes from the wounded one to the teacher hear to help those on the path, but it’s all the same attachment. The final liberation is not becoming more sacred, its recognizing we are already participating in the Sacred.

This is about becoming what can never be destroyed.

And that indestructible essence will always be Love itself.

Not romance, not a feeling, not even the concept. Love as a power, an essence, a presence that transcends what anyone’s words across time can ever say.

Reputations, jobs, relationships, bodies, accomplishments, identities, all die.

But the question that remains through out the ages . .

What is permanent beneath the impermanent?

The Buddhists might call it awareness.

The mystics might call it the Beloved.

The Christians may call it God

The Sufis might call it the heart awakened to Love.

The language has never been the point, because it all points to the Truth that remains like the only light that will ever be at the end of the tunnel.

Image by: Grace Asharah

It is Love that loves us so much, it will remove everything in the way of you remembering who you are.

It will destroy your delusion until the profound revelation strikes you like lightning and leaves you and the world around you forever changed. It’s the Love that does not protect us from what is uncomfortable, it will keep us wide awake inside this dream because it loves us too much for us to stay asleep.

Love will ask you to lose control. And this is another hard lesson to swallow because there is such a false sense of safety in feeling like we can anticipate how life will go. Hence the go to school, get a 9-5 job, marry anyone you can get, have kids’, retire, life track they have so many people on the conveyer belt of. Life does not work like that even when we try to fit that mold.

and honestly a person can live a very traditional life and be surrendered and a person can live an unconventional life and still be deeply attached.

The surrender isn’t about what your life looks like.

It’s about whether you can remain open when life opens a whole new book of your life.

Whether through illness, ending of a relationship, loss of a carreer, death of a sense of self, God-Dess brings us to our knees in surrender so that the benevolent hands of the Beloved can take the wheel, and our soul can rest in the gnosis that we do not do this life alone.

Life is deeply meaningful without any accomplishments to keep track of.

And Love will always be the Author of this story.

the revelation of Anthropos,

the holy drowning into the lungs that can breathe under water again.

the heart that has eyes.

She baptizes us in the holy well of our ancient collective memory.

She who can see beyond the eyes and through the nous.

She who anoints and seals the remembrance of our holy human nature as Whole unto Oneself.

She who ignites the triple flames within the heart, mind, and womb of the initiates.

Something I am growing weary of in Spiritual communities is the way it seems everyone is still trying to tell each other how to relate to Spirit and the many expressions that we see as figures of the Divine.

There are endless Instagram carousels and online forum battles trying to tell people who these sacred figures are, and very rarely anyone creating an invitation to cultivate direct relationship to the Sacred Mystery.

In my own life, every time I have entered into genuine relationship with one of these great archetypal presences, whether Christ, Magdalene, Inanna, Sophia, Kali Ma, Morgana, or another expression of the Sacred, they have continually undone my assumptions. They have rarely asked me to go pick up a book about them, but they have repeatedly asked me to become more available to be present with them. More intimate. More willing to let my own heart become the place where revelation unfolds.

Magdalene wants us to come into direct relationship with the Divine.

She cares not for how we see her.

Prostitute

Priestess

Annoitress

Sinner

Prophetess

Pirate

She cares not.

She has been named many things, and none of them have ever been the point. She yearns for us to remember the frequency of what she represented from within our own bodies. The anointed aspect of our own soul where wholeness, sovereignty, and gnosis are crystallized into the trinity of our devotion upon the Earth.

To be anointed is not merely to receive a title. It is to become permeable enough that the fragrance of the Divine begins to emanate through an ordinary human life.

And she is reminding us of something much deeper than what it means to be a priestess..

Mary Magdalene has been a figure since my childhood. Quietly weaving her part of the red thread into the background of my life before I ever consciously knew my place upon the rose lineages tapestry.

I was raised catholic, going to catholic private school, nuns as my teachers, the whole sha-bang. I always felt something missing in the big cathedrals, yet I also always had a faith that there was a reality beyond this physical one I was inside of. I remember crying to God at night as a young child, wondering what I had done to be put on Earth and longing to be back in the heavenly realms where the hardships of being human did not exist.

My mama used to whisper to me how Jesus had a wife.

She would have me sit on her lap and talk to me about Mary Magdalene, as if it was a secret covenant that did leave our little world we shared. She was the one who showed me the Red Tent movie at a young age, making me promise not to tell my grandparents we watched it when I was so young.

It became my favorite movie to watch with her, because something inside of me remembered. I remembered the ancient lineage of the feminine before I ever understood what that even meant. My little girl saw herself in those women worshiping the idols of the feminine, the feeling of hiding their Truth from the men of the village, and the devastation of loss when the lineage was forced into hiding.

But how?

Because Gnosis lives in the Body.

Because we remember far before we intellectualize our knowing.

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After I left college and pursued yoga teacher training and a few different energetic healing modalities, something felt missing. It was my last days at yoga school, and I had my first astrology reading from an elder who worked at Kripalu, where I studied. She looked at my chart and gave me one long and deep gaze into my soul and spoke

“What are you doing with all of this psychic and mystik energy you have?”

For some reason, my 19-year-old self-felt a little fearful of that statement, the witch wound I had yet to excavate got triggered and I laughed and responded with . .

“I don’t know, you tell me what I should do”

She proceeded to say my path was about to change drastically and that I should check out Asheville, North Carolina when I get the chance. Then we closed with a simple prayer and a wink. Little did I know that conversation was about to change my life.

I left yoga school, after thinking for 3 years that teaching and following the path of yoga was my destiny, feeling like something bigger was missing.

And I started to see 444 angel numbers everywhere. For two weeks after leaving Kripalu, those numbers followed me loudly. Even my mom noticed and started looking up the meaning on her own. We went to a farmers’ market together and got there at 11:44 AM, than i stumbled upon a small little crystal booth amidst the normal New Jersey market stops and streamlined into their little booth.

I got to talking to the young woman running the booth and she said they have a shop not too far and that I should check it out. So i walked down the road and got to the address with the door boldly saying 444 upon it. I laughed and walked up the old wooden stairs to a small shop of crystals, Tibetan bowls, and incense pluming.

I began to talk to the woman in the shop and she showed me all the workshops they are hosting and I felt my angels whisper in my ear “there is a class you are meant to find..” As i scanned their offerings on “how to live in the 5d” and reiki trainings, nothing jumped out at me. I thanked the women and walked back to the market to find my mama.

After finding my mom we went and got a quick lunch and I told her what happened. She found it to be curious, and as we got back into the car it was 1:44PM and she laughed :Okay Grace Ann, what is going on” We laughed it off with the presence of the Sacred giggling with us.

The great cosmic giggle never fails.

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As my 2oth birthday approached my mom asked if I wanted to go back to Kripalu for a weekend workshop, since I had loved being there so much and this theme of continuing to learn kept presenting itself with the 444 synchronicities. With excitement, I began to scroll down their long list of weekend workshops.

As i scrolled, I found endless workshops on wellness, meditation, dance, it was truly bountiful. But nothing had that feeling I knew I was looking for. I scrolled close to 5 pages and then stumbled upon the simple words “REVEAL” a 5 day retreat workshop with Kyle Gray and Meggan Watterson.

I had no idea who they were, but my body responded immediately with that feeling. I scrolled through the event, she had just come out with her, now, very well-known book “Magdalene Revealed” and the 5 days were focused on revealing the deeper voice of Love within.

I looked at the price.

$444

My eyes widened. My heart had a mini orgasm. And I told my mom and she just stared at me with utter awe too and said “This is the one, Happy Birthday”

Those 5 days changed my life.

The power, presence, and palpable mystik awoke an ancient remembrance in me that, at that moment, I was only standing on the first threshold of. So many omens of my lifes path revealed that week, things I continue to witness unfold in my life that were innocently predicted and revealed in those days. The eyes of the mystik opened in my young soul, a frequency was planted like a seed by Kyle in Meggan that has forever altered my path.

And all of it was Magdalene.

She guided every one of us to that moment, to remember what it means to paint the town red, find the holy in the human, and remember what can never truly be forgotten: the power of Love. Her voice is revealed from within, as a gnosis that goes beyond all knowledge and understanding.

And I wonder if that’s exactly how she was able to see Christ resurrected, through her ability to see with eyes beyond knowledge of this world or beyond.

I emerged from that week and she followed me everywhere. In every book I opened, in every synchronicity, in conversations, she started to walk with me and lead me to my true path. Though I did not always understand, it was she who ensured I remembered my soul’s mission and true lineage.

Magdalene’s presence is returning for a reason..

It’s because we are in a time were humanity is ready to integrate her teachings and the forgotten feminine mysteries which makes the teachings of Christos whole. Without her, the teachings have been missing essential Embodied Truth.

She was not just the human; she was also the animation of Venus. Representing on an archetypal level the essential essence of the Divine Feminine principle that is necessary for any alchemical initiation. Shakti, Isis, Inanna, Animations of this divine principle of the Goddess.

Venus, not just as a planetary body, but as a living path of feminine gnosis. The path of the Rose, the ancient lineage of Goddess that remembers how to embody the current of divine union, sovereign power, and embodied wisdom.

She who contains all aspects of the feminine, she who goes by many names yet exists as one all-pervading essence that reveals itself in countless forms.

Herstory is being woven back together from within our own bodies.

Every woman holding an essential thread to this holy tapestry of the Feminine Rebirth.

Magdalene’s return is not about gathering historical facts or searching the ancient archives of the Akash to channel about her. .

her frequency is inviting us to recover a way of knowing.

A direct relationship to knowing, Gnosis.

Her presence restores an organ of our collective perception. And this is why it is crucial that her frequency returns, not because of who she was as a person alone, but what she represented as a living teaching to humanity.

She is not simply the return of the feminine, she is the return of the Holy Humanity. It has seemed that the goal in spiritual seeking has been ascension for many thousands of years, but Magdalene evokes a different teaching. She asks how can we become so deeply human that God has somewhere to land upon this Earth. Magdalene invites the holy current into the body, allowing every moment to become the liturgy.

The deepest initiations have never been found in collecting more knowledge, but in becoming so intimate with ourselves that what has always lived within can finally be heard.

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Magdalene's return is not an invitation to romanticize the feminine or collect new spiritual identities. The mysteries cannot be consumed or commodified. They cannot be reduced to aesthetics, archetypes, or another philosophy to perform. They ask something far more intimate of us: participation. They ask us to become quiet enough to remember what we already know on the deepest level of the Soul.

The deeper I have walked with Magdalene and the path of the rose, the deeper I experience this living path and the archetypes of the feminine as living pathways. In a world that has become fascinated with transcending the human experience, Magdalene reminds us that the miracle has always been incarnation itself.

We are a living gospel.

An archive of the ancient breathing through skin and soul.

Long before scripture was written onto parchment, it was written into rivers, mountains, stars, and the architecture of the human heart. Perhaps this is why no amount of censorship, empire, or forgetting has ever been able to erase what is most essential.

The deepest scripture has always lived within us.

One of the most powerful transmissions she has offered me in my life is the power of direct knowing. In this world we have learned to trust systems before sensation, certainty before presence, and opinions of others before our own lived experiences.

Magdalene gently overturns this order.

She reminds us that Gnosis cannot be inherited through someone else's revelation. It flowers through intimacy. Through listening deeply enough that the body once again becomes a sanctuary of perception and where Truth is not simply believed but recognized on ever level.

In the deep mystery teachings, the body is not separate from the revelation. It is the bush that burns, it is the tabernacle where we worship, it is the altar of the covenant kept between your heart and the heart of the Divine.

And this is what Christ and Magdalene have been whsipering all along, the Seek not for the Kingdom somewhere beyond yourself, look within and remember what has always been here.

Magdalene was a real woman, a very human woman who also walked the initiatory path of Priestesshood and the ancient mysteries. Whatever titles history or herstory may give her, what has always mattered most to me is not simply who she was, but the quality of consciousness she embodied. She loved Yeshua, Jesus, with a very human heart that also could pierce the veils to know a love that transcends time and space.

This love is what we remember.

It’s not just the teachings; it’s the frequency imbued into them.

And this is the true power of story. A powerful story contains words that transmit and download a deeper memory into the human psyche and emotional body. A story that touches the soul and evokes deeper knowing holds great power. This is known across cultures around the world, stories that remind us of our original memory as human beings hold power.

Stories have the power to pierce the imaginal realms, evoke deep recognition in the body, and remind us of a wisdom that we once knew long before our language could speak to it.

Every authentic lineage carries two things: teachings and transmission.

Teachings can be written down, studied, read.

Transmission must be encountered.

It lives in relationship, felt through presence, and pulses in the subtle atmosphere of a life lived in devotion. This is why the greatest mysteries have always been passed heart to heart as much as mind to mind.

As we can see, there is a war on the narrative of human existence. Stories buried, scrolls burned, libraries destroyed, oral traditions silenced. Beyond this though, our relationship to meaning has been severed.

And why go to such effort to bury the Goddess, to take cultures apart, to displace people from their original lands and ways of life?

Stories do far more than explain the past, they shape what people believe is possible. They tell us who we are, where we come from, what is sacred, and what it means to be human. When a people lose their stories, they do not simply lose information they begin to lose their relationship to themselves. The thread between soul, land, ancestry, and cosmos grows thin, and a civilization that forgets its deepest stories often begin searching for identity in places that cannot truly satisfy.

Yet perhaps this is why I am not afraid.

Because while books may burn and temples may fall, the deepest mysteries have never depended solely upon ink and parchment. Before scripture was written, wisdom lived in the rhythms of the Earth, stars, rivers, in the ceremonies of our ancestors, and within the living intelligence of the human body itself.

Perhaps this is what Magdalene has been reminding us all along.

That revelation is not only something preserved in ancient texts.

It is something continually unfolding through the human heart.

To become who we truly are, we must dissolve the attachment to being something.

To become the priestess.

The healer.

The mystic.

The wounded one.

The awakened one.

The Outcast.

The Seer.

Even Magdalene herself eventually disappears into the Mystery she loved.

Perhaps every authentic path asks this of us to lay every identity upon the altar until all that remains is Love itself.

Maybe this is the true Feast of Magdalene, not the celebration of one extraordinary and holy woman.

But the remembrance that every human heart is capable of becoming a living vessel for the Beloved.

May we remember.

May we listen.

May we become quiet enough to recognize the Holy already breathing within us.

Happy Feast Day Beloved Magdalene

Blessed Remembrance fellow devotional hearts..

With love & roses at your feet..

Grace Asharah

—-Beloved on Fire : 14 day online MythoSOmatic Writing Pilgrimage begins September 1st—-

My crime?

Swimming naked beneath a full moon with my sisters on a beach late at night with no one around. Just saltwater, prayer, and the kind of freedom women have remembered for thousands of years before shame became law.

When the female officer approached us, I could feel the weight of the moment. Not simply the interaction itself, but the generations of stories carried inside it. The stories of women being taught to fear their own bodies. The stories of women being separated from their sensuality, wildness, and our innate belonging to the Earth.

And in that moment, rather than anger alone, I felt grief.

Grief for how deeply many of us have been conditioned to disconnect from the sacred intelligence of the body.

That ancient stomach twisting grief for how often women have had to abandon parts of themselves in order to survive within systems that were never designed with their full liberation in mind.

The officer informed me that if we failed to pay the citation or appear in court, we could face a warrant for our arrest and the potential of being put on a sex offender list. I went into total shock, it took everything in my might to not begin speaking my mind right there. My sharp dragon tongue was ready to spit fire of the absurdity of such a consequence while pedophiles run our countries.

I remember sitting there thinking to myself..

This is what we’re spending our energy on?

A woman’s bare chest beneath the moon?

A group of women innocently praying in the dark moody ocean waves under moonlight whispers of possibilities?

I am sure that is not how the female officer worded it, in fact I know it’s not. The ticket held no poetry at all.

But in that moment, I could feel the shame of generations getting purged from my body..

how many times women went to pray, frolic, savor their sensual bodies under the moonlight and then get “caught” and burnt at the stake.

Ridiculed.

Banished.

Outcasted.

In it’s own way. it was happening to me in this moment. And this is just a tiny fractal in comparison to what women around the world are still having to navigate in the realms of suppression and oppression. I am grateful to be given a court date and the ability to speak at all from one perspective.

I have spent the last decade consciously undoing cultural shame around the body.

There have been years of swimming naked in rivers before the world wakes. Mornings spent greeting the sun with my bare breasts lifted toward the light. Walking barefoot through forests. Sleeping beneath stars. Learning to allow my skin to become less of an object and more of a living landscape that belongs to the same wild intelligence as the trees.

This has never felt provocative to me.

It has felt like prayer.

Each sunrise has been another quiet undoing of the stories I inherited about what a woman’s body is supposed to look like. Piece by piece, the shame dissolved and I continued to return home to the wild holy spirit that lives in this temple of a body.

The Earth never once asked me to apologize for being as I am.

The river never judged me.

The sun never looked away.

The wind never asked me to cover myself before it touched my skin.

For years I believed I had met shame. Sat with it. Loved it into something softer. And perhaps I had. But can I uphold the sacredness I remembered amidst this distorted world. .

Weeks later was our court date.

My sister and I of course decided to go to court. When was someone like me, a witchy wild women who works with women for a living to support them in reclaiming their body, truth, eros and magic, get called to the court room for exposed boobies. This was the perfect opportunity to speak Truth, even if no one was there to hear it except the judge.

The morning of the court date, I felt the Goddess roar inside of me during my morning meditation. Like a guttural growl she howled in my womb :

“speak about the epstein files, heed the moment, do not silence your voice.”

I stuttered, my mind went “woah woah woah, a little dramatic?”

My heart said “okay but how would we even express that its too painful..”

and my womb answered with a lightning bolt that ignited my mind heart and womb into a straight line of clarity. Suddenly my whole speech was written in 30 seconds and I was on my way out the door looking like a medicine casual lawyer.

I greeted my sister, who was also looking like a hot lawyer that’s never lived a day in her life skinning animals in the woods (which she has). We had a good laugh at our shapeshifting abilities and entered the big county court world.

We sat in the court room for almost 3 hours until having our name called upon. Witnessing countless charges that all connected back to the systemic oppression and violence that keeps humanity in an endless loop with no way to actually get ahead.

I do not often get to look at humanity and our system straight in the face. My work the last 10 years has been in ceremony spaces, in nature, in conscious community that has already reached a certain phase of their connection to Spirit. I lived in a mystik bubble, rather intentionally, to get away from society as much as possible.

When it was our time to go up, my sister friend went first. Though the court room at this point was rather empty, I still felt the Goddess breathing down my neck to simply speak.

Even if no one heard me,

even if nothing was going to be done about it,

even though I knew this judge could not do anything about it..just speak she echoed in me.

So when it was my turn to go up, the judge did her thing. She spoke to the exposure of breasts with far more humor than the officer did and assumed I was with my friend who had just gone up. I said yes we were together and asked if i could speak to something. She said of course..

and like shaking fire my voice begin to speak :

“I know you cannot do anything about this, and I am fully prepared to pay this citation if this is what is necessary. But i need to speak to the hypocrisy of the system. I am aware that if I did not show up here today or pay this ticket that I would have a warrant out for my arrest and the potential of being put on a sex offender list. While men who run this country and world leaders’ names sit in the Epstein files with allegations far worse than anything I stand here for today. Men who have abused, stolen the innocence from and killed thousands of women walk free while my simple moment in the ocean with friends could make me a sex offender in the eyes of this state. The very state that opened the epstein case to begin with. I know you cannot change this reality, but in times where this case is dangling in front of the public’s eye, it needs to be spoken to.”

The judge looked at me, slightly proud and slightly like “what the hell am I going to do about it honey”

She simply said :

“Yes, there are a lot of discrepancies in the system, but I have taken an oath to honor the laws whether I agree with them or not, so do you want to pay the ticket or take this to the state court?”

For a moment, I thought about taking this further. Maybe I could keep ruffling feathers? Maybe I could be another voice echoing in these broken hallways…

But I felt the Goddess say, “to what end?”

I am needed in other ways than following this train down an endless rabit hole of wasted time, so I said I would just pay the ticket. As I walked back to walk out with my sister friend, we nodded at each other with gratitude that if anything, we spoke up for women today. A few people who were left in the court room nodded and waved to us as we left. And that was it. No great change, no big system collapse.

The system is so intricately crafted that it is nearly impossible to get to the ones who can even make systemic change, and those who can are the ones corrupting it intentionally. As we know, the whole game is rigged.

And..as we also know.

Truth always speaks the final words.

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As a mythosomatic being and devottee to the Rose Lineage for the last 6 years, in this lifetime atleast, I felt the deeper current of myth taking place.

But as it often happens, it is not until after that I see the deeper story that is weaving my life with the unseen currents. .

There are moments when life undresses us before it teaches us. And after life teaches us, it takes time to digest it into embodied wisdom,

Living Gnosis.

As I sat with what had happened, my thoughts returned again and again to Isis. Our beloved Golden temple keeper of this time with the summer solstice in my Rose Lineage.

In many ancient depictions, Isis is shown with one breast uncovered as she nurses Horus. It is not an image of seduction. It is an image of nourishment and devotion. The uncovered breast is simply part of her wholeness.

Nothing hidden.

Nothing apologized for.

Nothing diminished.

Simply the beauty of the human, life giving, divine form that is Woman.

Perhaps the deepest exposure is never physical.

Perhaps it is the moment we realize we can no longer hide our hearts behind carefully curated identities. The moment we stop organizing our lives around avoiding vulnerability. The moment we choose authenticity over performance, even when our knees and voices are shaking.

A courtroom is, by its very nature, a place of judgment.

As I reflected on the experience, I couldn’t help but remember another court: the Hall of Two Truths in Egyptian mythology, where the heart is weighed against the feather of Maat. Whether or not the two have any literal connection, I care not. The image felt branded into my mind’s eye as more of a question than some kind of answer.

As all symbolic intuition works, the myth is encoded. It is not literal; it is a metaphor that opens a door to deeper meaning.

What if the deepest judgment I will ever face is not the gaze of another, but my own willingness to remain faithful to my heart and Truth?

To stand before life as I am, unhidden, imperfect, wholly human, and ask whether I have lived in right relationship with myself.

Can I remain devoted to the sacredness of this body, not only in the sanctuary of the forest, but in the places where the world has taught me to contract?

Can I remember that this body has always belonged to the Earth, even while moving through the structures of civilization?

Perhaps this, too, is part of the initiation that I am currently navigating.

Because the truth is, I did not enter that courtroom as the same woman who was standing beneath the moon that night.

The woman beneath the moon was in a rapture of wild remembrance with her sisters. She was inhabiting the woman who knows we have always had a relationships with the waters, cycles, moon, Mother Earth, and the mysterious intelligence that moves through creation.

But the woman who entered the courtroom was being asked something different.

Could she carry that remembrance into a place that did not speak that language?

Could she remain rooted in her own knowing while standing inside a structure that interpreted her through another lens?

I think this is what Isis is beckoning me to learn in this season..

She does not remain only in the temple. . she too walks into the places of fragmentation.

She enters grief.

She moves through exile.

She enters the places where pieces of herself have been scattered and gathers them back into wholeness.

She does not reclaim herself by escaping the world, she reclaims herself by bringing the sacred with her into the world.

This is the next layer of embodiment that is being asked of me. .

Not simply loving my body when I am surrounded by trees, rivers, moonlight, and women who remember.

But loving my body when I am misunderstood.

When I am witnessed through someone else’s fear.

When I am asked to translate the language of my soul into a world that has forgotten it.

The wild woman is not only the woman who dances beneath the moon.

She is also the woman who walks into the courtroom carrying the moon within her chest and a voice that can shake with Truth even if no one heard her.

The woman who can honor the systems she moves through while still questioning the places where humanity has lost its way.

Perhaps liberation was never about proving that my body was sacred or allowed to be wild and free….

Of course it is.

But perhaps liberation is remembering that nothing, not a law, nor a judgment, or another person’s discomfort, has the power to remove what was sacred before I ever had a name for it.

The Earth knew me before the world had opinions about me.

The waters knew me before shame found language.

The sun knew me before I learned to hide.

We have come to be the holy ground that builds a bridge between the worlds..

To become the meeting place, a living round table.

A torch that bares the wild into the civilized.

A seed that plants the sacred into the ordinary.

To stand before the scales of Maat with an open heart and whisper:

I have nothing to hide.

I have nothing to prove.

I am here.

As I am .

As I will always be.

With love and golden roses,

Grace Asharah

—Join me in my next MythoSOmatic Writing Cohort : Beloved on Fire : We Begin August 30th- Subscribe with your email for details about this 14 day online pigrimage of poetic liberation —

I discovered yoga my senior year of high school. My first love and partner had left for the marines, and I had a rapid decline of my mental health and spiraled back into alcohol after being sober from alcohol for 2 years. I reached a breaking point and knew I needed to make a change. So, I went to a local hot yoga studio called Powerflow in my hometown in New jersey, and my life began to change.

My first class was with a whacky teacher that I will never forget. Covered in tattoos and telling crazy stories of being on mushrooms on the west coast in the 80’s while guiding us through warrior poses and onto our head. My catholic school girl fell in love with vinyasa and the vedic philosophies that somehow made more sense to me than anything else. I had no idea what I was saying yes to when I began to go to classes every day.

My eating disorder went from starving and binging to apple cider vinegar and 2 hot yoga classes a day. A slow and steady trade into a life of greater wellness. I was feeling on top of the world after a few months, and so were my visions and dreams. That same year I began to take art classes again. I had gotten into a special opportunity where I could design my own class and grade myself based on 1 big creative project a semester. Yes, I got straight A’s (hehe)

My first semester I started a Podcast that i called “Little Talks” after that Of Monsters and Men song. I would invite classmates into the media hall to tell me about their passions, how they wanted to change the world, and why our generation holds the key to creating great impact for the future of humanity. I was so passionate about it, though I look back and giggle at my sweet disposition. While I also marvel at that young girl’s audacity to just go for it, to say fuck it this is my stage and I want to share it with others.

My second semester I put all my energy into crafting an art gallery in the center of my hometown. I called it “Illuminate the Night” a weekend celebrating the healing power of art to bring light into the darkness. How cliche of me as a shadow integration guide now, but the Truth that was real for me 13 years ago is still True for me now. Art is a guiding light, an alchemical tool, a lighthouse in our darkest moments.

Through some yogi powers I had no idea I was operating from, I manifested the local art council sponsoring my gallery and cover the costs so I could host it in the center of town. I collected art from local artists, my own creations, and a powerful artist friend of mine from school. I spent hours, with the help of my grandpa, figuring out how to hang art on the old brick walls and make the space feel like a gallery from New York City.

This is the first memory I have of being consumed by devotion and passion. I felt a fire in me that I had no name for yet, and no awareness that I would spend the next 13 years of my life to uncover in every corner of my existence. I raised around 1700 for the local cancer hospital and left having sold 6 of my own framed photographs. I knew anything was possible for me and had no idea the wild road that was ahead.

Spirit had a big plan for me,

and Spirit still has a big plan for me.

Now I am just conscious of it in a way I never was before.

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It took me years to understand why that gallery mattered so much. At seventeen, I thought I was organizing an art show. Looking back I can see that I was building myself a lighthouse. A moment in time to look back on and remember something that is essential to my path, purpose, and passion.

There is something remarkable that happens when a human being creates. The subconscious does not speak in spreadsheets or perfectly articulated sentences. It speaks in symbols, dreams, synchronistic moments, and in color long before language. It reveals in movements before explanation and in music before any meaning can be described.

Long before neuroscience could map it, artists knew this. The same way our ancestors knew it before quantum physics could prove it.

When we paint, write, dance, photograph, sculpt, sing or create in anyway at all, we bypass the relentless narrator that believes it must make sense of everything. We slip into a different wavelength of brainwaves, and let the great conductor of life take the reigns.

Where trauma fragments, art harmonizes.

Trauma convinces us that our story is over, that there is nowhere else to turn. That we have flat lined with no salvation. Art reminds the nervous system that it is still capable of imagination, surprise, beauty, and possibility.

Trauma is not stored simply as a story we forgot to tell. It lives as sensation, image, rhythm, posture, emotion, fragments of memory woven throughout the nervous system and into the tissues.

Art reaches places ordinary conversation cannot.

When we create, the brain recruit’s emotion, memory, movement, sensory awareness, imagination, and meaning-making simultaneously. Rather than activating a single pathway, creativity becomes an orchestration across multiple neural networks in the brain. We are not merely expressing ourselves; we are integrating ourselves on every level- body, mind, & soul.

Neuroscientists have also discovered that memory is not fixed. Every time we revisit an experience, the brain briefly renders it malleable before storing it again. This process, known as memory reconsolidation, means our relationship to the past is not set in stone.

When grief becomes a poem, when rage becomes paint, when longing becomes song, the experience itself has not disappeared, but its emotional architecture can change.

Art is not created as just decoration for your home

Art is how consciousness remembers itself, it reflections the evolution of humanity more than science ever could. It reveals the soul of humanity, in all its holy and dark longings to be close to something beyond Self.

Every revolution worth living has first begun in the invisible landscape of imagination, by the hands of artists and free thinkers who tested the boundaries of possibilities.

Before societies change, someone imagines another way for it to be.

Before women reclaim their voices, someone writes what has never been spoken.

Before a child believes they are worthy, someone paints a world where they belong.

Art is not an escape from reality, it is rehearsal for a new one. It is the stage where we remember we are both the dance and the dancer, the creator and the created.

To create, is to exist.

To be an artist, is to human.

My Beloved on Fire Somatic Writing Cohort opens its doors to receive you for our 10 day journey in August-

Link below to learn more

Beloved on Fire

Thank you for being here with me. Your support means the world. Please subscribe and lets continue to grow a mythic community of artists, visionaries, and keepers of the sacred flame..

With roses & love,

Grace Asharah

I have had an interesting journey with bone healing.

When I first moved to Asheville back in 2018, I broke my knee cap in half while doing a handstand in the living room. And in a weird way I was excited, because I deeply believed that body can heal itself and this was the ultimate test. I visualized light fussing my kneecap back together, took herbs, made my first bone broths, and within 2 months I was walking, within 3 months I went to my first earth skills like nothing had even happened.

The body is wise.

It took a lot for me to even admit that this was happening to my teeth. There was shame, grief, memory of neglect to myself that was painful to acknowledge. It required my vulnerability and to face the shadows of my past from an entirely new lens. And through that vulnerability I had a family friend reach out to support me in getting this necessary procedure.

It’s confronting to own all of yourself. To get real and authentic with the parts of self that would rather hide, crumble away, or stay living under a pressure that it has long outgrown.

But that’s the work.

To continue evolving,

to keep getting more Real,

to integrate our humanity and divinity into an elixer of medicine for this wild world.

And dear Goddess, do we need all of our alchemical medicine to navigate these times. .

As always, everything feels highly symbolic, the subtle and not so subtle language of Spirit is my favorite thing to trace the threads of.

As an astrology nerd, I couldn’t help but feel the impact of Saturn crossing my degree point leading up to this surgery. Mind you, on that crazy firey Aries stellium week where it felt like being engulfed by flames

I had a massive influx of clients with Wild Eros and so much clarity emerge about my artistry and service in the world and how to step into the next level.

And then I had surgery, right as Saturn stepped out of my degree. The great restructuring from the level of the body begins. I had to get multiple teeth extracted from the back of my mouth. In Chinese medicine these teeth were connected to the spleen and stomach, directly linked to how I give and receive nourishment, stability, and vitality. Having these teeth removed has felt like a weight that I had been carrying has been lifted. My body finally able to breathe in life force and digest nutrients fully again.

Hallelujah

It’s remarkable how much we don’t realize how much something is impacting us until it is removed. Like a bad relationship, when you’re in it and it’s your reality, it becomes difficult to acknowledge the ways it is impacting you when it’s your world.

The truth is, this collapse of my dental health began when I was in a very confusing season of my life, inside of a relationship that taught my body what chronic survival and instability felt like. My nervous system lived between devotion and hyper vigilance and my trust was constantly negotiating with self abandonment.

I was carrying far more than I admitted in the fire side prayers and songs. So much of my softness was spent bracing myself for the next blow of trust and heartbreak. And my wise body was trying to tell me for years “this is too much” but I ignored her in the name of a hidden ancestral agreement that said “This is what you deserve”

Teeth are structures, foundations, the bones that break down and digest life. Deeply connected to our ancestry

And so is Saturn.

Saturn will be crossing my degree point three times in this coming year, and I am not ignoring that awareness. It feels like crucial check points to where spirit is forging me, and what I am being forged into. Because as ive expressed, I have changed. A lot has changed in the last 2 years. and I am here for it to continue.

Surgery slows you down, the swelling pain and need to rest puts life on pause. I have mostly slept for a week and only eaten gourmet soups my sweet man has been making me. I have needed to slow down, since being in Taos, my life has felt non stop. With 7 moves, grieving loss of community and relationships, adapting to a new land and environment, and slowly finding my feet within a new ground of my own being, I’ve been holding and letting go of a lot.

The timing of this surgery with the expansion of my work feels deeply significant. It’s a reminder that growth is a dance with expansion and contraction. That sometimes abundance comes and than life reminds you what needs to be restructured to hold it.

I’ve been reflecting on how often survival becomes a norm, how ancestrally imprinted that belief is. It’s easy to forget what it means to receive support and how easy it is to wait for something to crumble before we allow ourselves to rebuild. It reminds me why I have practiced yoga, creative healing arts and earth centered wellness for 10+ years, we need to choose aliveness over ignorance.

What we ignore, always finds a way to expose itself.

Sometimes the healing doesn’t look like a blooming, it looks like swelling.

Like a stillness that consumes the noise of the world.

Or a trust that what is removed is making room for more of what is meant to stay.

And maybe that is the fierce Grace we all yearn for.

Because the medicine of fierce Grace isn’t a gentle Grace. It does not gently whisper and patiently wait for your response.

It removes what you will not release on your own, it intercepts your neatly laid out plans and dismantle what you thought was your life and self in the name of a love more powerful than anything.

It may not always feel kind, but it’s that tough motherly love of the Divine that we find with blood on her hands screaming “this can not stay”

And so you listen a little more clearly and remember that true healing requires honesty.

I think many of us know what it is to mistake endurance for love. To stay too long, call survival devotion and keep trying to save what is already asking to end.

But there comes a point where the body, the soul, and life itself begin speaking the same language.

And fierce grace has an intervention on your existence.

And that’s the biggest blessing in disguise.

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As a soul deeply devoted to the mystery and ineffable unknown, I am continually in a state of awe for the ways Spirit weaves initiation into the everyday mundane moments of life. Who knew dental surgery could be so mystical, even amidst all the discomforts and scares that an infection so close to your brain can bring…

It’s been 2 1\2 weeks since the first surgery. 3 oral surgeries. 1 planned and 2 an emergency. The first surgery triggered an infection that revealed a preexisting condition called Pericoronitis, which is a condition where your gums are growing over your wisdom teeth.

Apparently, this is normally something that hurts like hell, but I had never had any pain or signs of an issue. So, there I am, feeling like a new woman after the first surgery. A vitality and inner peace I hadn’t felt in years moving in me with full fire to continue forward with my blooming business and new visions of creative projects. I was driving in Santa Fe with my Beloved to pick up a check from selling his car because we are in the process of buying a live-in vehicle. While we were out there, suddenly I noticed that my left cheek was swelling rapidly and was hardening. I thought it may be a swollen lymph node and took note but did not anticipate what was about to happen.

It bursted in my mouth, an abscess that marks the sign of a serious infection. My partner and I freaked out as the faul smell filled the car and we rerouted to urgent care. We were luckily able to get in there quickly, get prescribed the first antibiotic I have taken in 15 years and go home while needing the wait to get in touch with the dentist until the weekend passed. Reluctantly and gratefully, I took the medication, prayed over it like it was peyote, and swallowed it.

I have already been taking ibuprofen and Tylenol, which hasn’t been in my body for 15 years as well, for almost a week and a half and was finally able to reduce how much I was taking. I got through the weekend with ease, and by Monday I had to rush to Santa Fe again to see the dentist. He is one of those guys that’s a mad genius and blames the worlds dental issues on the gold standard, lack of breast feeding and introduction of sugar and soft foods into our diets 200 years ago. He is like your favorite woke uncle who’s also a dentist. Well, that day I had to get an emergency surgery to remove my left lower wisdom tooth and try to stop the infection from spreading.

The feminine side of my body. The matriarchal wisdom tooth. It came out with ease, the abscess was gone, and I felt like everything was improving from here. This one brought up alot of grief, a tender feeling that poured tears from my eyes in an ancestral sensation of neglect to the body. Generations of bypassing the bodies wisdom and needs in order to endure providing for a family and survival. Alot of energy and emotion purged as I felt laid out in surrender knowing that I was still needing to clear out the infection.

Then I had to go back to Santa Fe two days later to pick up a more effective medication that the dentist had prescribed. Right as i landed there and sat down onto a call, I started to feel an abscess growing on my other cheek, I bursted into tears. The thing about an infection in the gums is that it’s very close to the jawbone and the brain. If it was to get deeper, I’d be facing a whole other set of serious issues. . . TBC

With love and miraculous devotion to the mystery-

Grace Asharah

Part 2 on its way. .

and I heard Spirit whisper in my ear

“The Burning Bush”

It made me pause, amidst the crowds of people gawking at the rocks as if nature was simply a spectacle and not an integral part of their own being. I felt God move through me; in the way I intimately have come to know. The listening became louder than all the noise around, and for a just a breath of a moment the palpable presence of the Divine wrapped itself around my insides.

I walked towards these bushes as if they were filled with revelation and I began to commune with the whispering essence beneath them. Dancing, feeling, listening to the untapped wisdom these sacred lands hold beneath my bare and vulnerable feet. The presence of prophecy suddenly felt palpable and became that moment in my photography work that I create for. The communion, the transformation, the initiatory moment where the myth and magik comes alive and everything else fades into the background.

As I uploaded the photos and began to take in the magic that occurred amidst the chaos of the last two weeks of transition, really the last two years of never-ending transition. Deep emotion swelled in my womb and chest, as I witnessed not just the woman I am becoming, but an answer to the question of my morning meditation which was. .

“What does it mean to be a mystik in these times?”

When I reflect on the ages of the past, it seemed so much easier to be a Mystik hiding in the mountains than the surmountable responsibility that it feels to carry timeless wisdom and gnosis in these times. Yet, it has always been a responsibility. To find Gods face hiding behind everything, to listen to the whispers of wisdom that come from mundane places, to be an instrument for the Great Mystery herself.

Naturally, I began to dig into the story of the Burning Bush with Moses, a story I had heard hundreds of times growing up in catholic school and going to church every Sunday with my mama. But now, with new eyes, deeper meaning revealed itself.

The Burning Bush appears in the Book of Exodus where Mose’s came across a burning bush that remained unconsumed by the flames. This is mystical experience more than a historical event.

This is a moment of Divine revelation.

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Let us start with the Burning Bush, a symbol of Divine energy inhabiting form without destroying it. In Gnostic perspective, this burning fire of the Pleroma, which is taught to be the fullness of the Divine Reality, is an alchemical fire. It is the fire that the Mystik’s experience in the state of Gnosis, the great white fire of Truth, the inner ignition of alchemy that occurs between the body and the Spirit.

The bush serves as a symbol of the body or the material world. This reveals the mystery that the body can become a vessel and instrument for Divine Consciousness without being destroyed. That the human being has a sacred opportunity to become a doorway for the Divine Reality in this world.

In Gnostic traditions they tell the story of Sophia and her creation of the demiurge that created this world. In many iterations of texts across culture, they speak to this world and the body as a trap, yet the story of the Burning Bush reveals a deeper Truth. This world is not the trap; it is the doorway that holds the potential to host the Divine.

The unburnt yet burning bush becomes a symbol for the initiated human being who channels the Divine current through the body and into the world.

Returning to the sacred text where Mose’s discovers this mystical revelation, he does not stand in a temple when he is struck with this vmystical experience, he is tending a flock of sheep in the desert after a long period of dissolution.

The Desert, an archetypal place that symbolizes emptiness, identity dissolution, death and silence. Because in Truth, revelation always comes after collapse, after complete dissolution of everything you knew and thought you were. The desert is where we behold direct encounters with the Divine, without distraction or inherited beliefs blocking our vision.

Moses was not randomly chosen, he was exiled. He was born Hebrew, an enslaved lineage at the time, and raised Egyptian, the ruling power structure of the times. From the beginning of his story, he was split and never fully belonged to one world. He existed in an in-between, never fully trusting either side of a story, and from the mystik perspective this is a ripe throne to sit upon for revelation. He was exiled from Egypt for murdering an Egyptian who was harming a Hebrew, which is akin to a moment of rupture of his loyalty to the unconscious ruling systems.

So, he fled to the Desert and took on the cloak of the outcast, perhaps more for an initiatory rite than was anticipated. In mystical traditions this can be the longest phase filled with isolation, confusion, loss of meaning, and deep silence that slowly recalibrates a new ground of being. You cannot perceive the Real while clinging to the constructed reality. And this is often the place that people run back from, but like many of us, Mose’s also stayed.

Before the revelation of the Burning Bush, Moses became a Shepard, which mystically is a symbol of become a listener, a witnesser, someone who has learned how to be with life without controlling it. Revelation reveals itself not by accident, but to those with the capacity to see and receive it. When Moses encountered the Burning Bush, his senses were captivated because he recognized the Divinity of the moment. Many people walk away in the face of divine happenings, yet to be a seer requires resonance to notice the subtle and sometimes not so subtle magic. To be a seer is not an egoic role to add to your spiritual resume, it is a sacred responsibility to Ultimate Truth.

When Moses asks for the name of the Divine when he witnessed the Burning Bush, the answer given was. .

Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh

Which in Hebrew means “I AM THAT I AM”

Which was a rupture to the paradigm of the personified God of the times, for a response like this pointed to a state of being, an ultimate state of Consciousness that goes beyond all names, roles, religions, and imposed structures. A divinity that fits in no box, cannot be controlled, and cannot be made into dogma.

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On a personal level, I did not know I needed to strip this story down and see myself in it until this moment in the canyon. A sacred ground of holy rocks surrounded by a matrix city that felt suffocated of Soul. But as I dove deeper into the symbolism and archetypal mythos, I witnessed the last few years of journey distilled into a burning bush.

To be a seer, one must be stripped of all previous identities, beliefs, and inherited structures of the world. One must fully dissolve in the rupture of the unconscious distortions of reality and self and endure the silence of not knowing until completely emptied. It requires deep refinement of perception in order to not perceive from projection, and from this deep place of restored coherence, Reality can be revealed directly.

As modern Mystiks, refinement of our perception and dissolution is essential. It is a responsibility to attune to the Divine Reality and receive the codex of hidden messages and stories written and transcribed into the fabric of this world. For me, stories and ancient tales echoes through the land like poetic scripture awaiting to be remembered and retold. Yet this moment, like many prophetic moments of my path, feels deeply encoded.

A whisper from the Divine that my way of perception is changing.

As I stood on the mythic edge of a canyon’s cliff, trusting the threshold of my life more deeply than ever, and amidst a sacred photo session of self witnessing, I came across two bushes. A doorway of evolution of an ancient story, a fire burning between the duality of the one who burns and the one who lights the fire. This is the conscious field of feminine gnosis, where we become the living scripture and walk in the living intelligence that is a fire of revelation.

It is subtle, quiet, a new relationship to something deeper than words can ever explain, and yet the whisper I heard on that ridge is a language that my soul has known since before time. So familiar in its ever-loving guidance of my path in this life and beyond.

And that voice of the Divine does not arrive like lightening; it speaks beyond our perception entirely.

There is no proof, yet it is inscribed into everything, hidden in every moment.

The fire was never in the bush,

You are the bush.
And the fire has always been burning from within your own sight.

-Grace Asharah

Subscribe or follow me on IG (@Grace.Asharah) to follow along the modern mystik journey together. .

For more Mythosomatic storytelling + embodied art follow (@WildEros_)

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There are stories that live within us that ache to be told, voices of ancestors that never got the chance for their full stories to be heard. And we are they’re living answered prayer. We are the ones with a freedom they only could dream of.

Something I have come to know on this journey, is that the real dreamer is the one who can never be seen. The earth is dreaming. God is dreaming. The unfathomable auspicious one of many names, is dreaming all of this.

I want to share a story with you all

I had a vision at this Moondance, many but this one is most relevant. Amidst the moonlit evening surrounded by hundreds of powerful women, I was taken down, deep through the layers of the earth, through the caverns and under ground rivers and was led by a jaguar to the center of Mother Earth. It was luscious, as green dripping leaves glistened in a sunlight that had no sun to explain itself. Amidst this overwhelming state of beauty I found myself in, there was a small thatched hut.

This jaguar guardian nodded for me to enter, and bowed into the mysterious landscape that surrounded. My dream self walked up these creaking wooden stairs and knocked upon a door that opened as the weight of my hands pressed the hard wood.

I heard a voice call from within the hutch,

“I’ve been waiting for you”

I walked into a rather mystical scene. A fire place burning bright, cozy and colorful fabrics adorning the walls, the distinct smell of copal and tree resins filling the air. And this mysterious figure of a wild crone stood before me. She ushered me in, she took my hand as if she really was waiting for me. And we sat before the fire as a tea kettle began to hiss with hot water.

“See, your right on time”

I sat in this dream like world with this grandmother for what felt like hours, as she spilled all these stories and mysteries into some part of my soul & psyche. Truthfully it was probably only 60 minutes of resting on the earths damp Costa Rican floor. But it felt like an eternity spent in the arms of the safest place I had ever known.

This multicolored Grandmother figure shook rattles over my body, sang songs that brought life back into my bones, and whispered seeds of wisdom as if my heart was a garden bed to be sewn.

She told me

“if you remember anything of this moment, please remember, the earth is dreaming all of this and all you need to do is remember her dream”

The sounds of the drum began to pound and women’s voices slowly got louder and louder. I remember opening my eyes to the bright full moon staring back at me, as if she knew the secrets I was just offered too. And poof, just like all visions, they distill into some secret cavern of the womb and heart and digests until the embodied expression of the vision can find a place to land.

If you can remember anything,

remember that the Earth is dreaming all of this. .

We stand at a threshold of new beginning, where we are not quite what is becoming and we are certainly no longer who we were. This year of shedding has been uncomfortable; it has altered us in the hidden musculature of the soul.
Loosened skins that once protected us, until those same skins began to suffocate us. The final shedding always reveals the loose dead ends that have stubbornly been clung on to. The things that we did not want to let go of but have to.

It is easy to shed the shadows we do not want to carry with us, but it’s harder to face the things we did not realize were holding us back that we love yet are not aligned to move foreword with us. This is where we become tested and forced into the grief that was hidden beneath the surface and the emotions we need to feel in order to alchemize into the next level of our embodied expression.

The slow intelligence of Metamorphosis knows what it is doing

In Chinese cosmology and Feminine Mysteries, the Snake is a keeper of esoteric knowledge, sensual wisdom, intuition, and alchemical transformation that unfolds through quiet precision rather than dramatic upheaval.

Snake years rarely transform us through external milestones, instead, they slowly slither through our inner terrain rewiring instincts, revealing illusions, dissolving identities we once believed were inseparable from our survival

The serpent sheds when growth makes the old skin unbearable, not because who you were was wrong, but because it has fulfilled its purpose. And it can not take you to where Spirit is leading you next.

Over the past year, we have been shedding roles, relationships, creative identities, coping mechanisms, and belief systems that once felt like protection. Snake medicine often asks us to surrender forms of safety that were quietly constricting our life force. It often arrives as grief, confusion, or the disorientation of no longer recognizing ourselves. It is a liminal space that is an initiation into something we have never been before.

Serpent transformation is cellular.
It happens in the nervous system, in ancestral memory, and in the places where instinct lives. It slithers and hithers from the depths, inviting us to descend into the bones of our inner landscape and remember how to sing a new song of life. It forces us to find the inner sanctuary while the old temples crumble and fall.

We do not simply change our circumstances during a snake year, we change our energetic blueprint for how we exist inside them. The very foundation that was our souls journey up into this point, is no longer relevant. You take the golden threads with you, but everything else dissolves like sand in your hand.

But, shedding is only half of the serpent’s story.

The other half is emergence.

While we have been shedding the old and outdated modes of identity, relating, structures, and beliefs, a new skin has been forming beneath the surface. It may still feel raw, tender, a little hard to imagine it becoming fully visible yet. But we are being invited to begin where we are. Even if its a little messy and uncertain, the lion roars for us to just start. Whatever that means to you, that vision you’ve been cultivating, that art project you keep getting nudged to create, that retreat your hearing whispers to launch, that soul led business you want to have thrive, that flight ticket you know you need to buy.

Just take the first step.

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Leo’s Fire Sounds the Alarm

Every Leo Full Moon occurs when the Sun is traveling through Aquarius, creating a polarity between the individual heart and the collective future. While Aquarius asks us, “How do we evolve together?” Leo invites us into the initiatory questions of “WHat does it look like to bring your authentic fire into the world?”

This moon is illuminating a relationship between vulnerability and visibility. We can not hide any longer, we can not sit on our hands with excuses for why its “not time to shine” yet. There is an invitation here to really find in the wisdom of the body where we have dimmed our radiance in order to remain safe or accepted.

I know for me, for the last week, I have been having massive waves of grief and rage revealing a deeper story within my nervous system that sang songs of staying small to stay safe or to hide my radiance to make others comfortable. Maybe you can relate?

To shine bright is not for the validation of others or your own ego, it is your sovereign birthright. It is a gift in a world that has forgotten what it feels like to bask in the light, and in these times of great exposure of the world stage, we need to all shine bright.

This particular Full Moon holds a rare alchemy because it occurs at the closing threshold of the Snake year. Mythically, this pairing evokes an archetype that appears across cultures and spiritual traditions:

The Initiated Artist.
The Solar Serpent.
The One Who Has Descended and Returned Carrying a Firey Torch.

Serpents are keepers of underworld wisdom, guardians of hidden knowledge, erotic life force, and ancestral memory. The lion or solar archetype represents illumination, leadership, and the courage to stand in visible truth. Often seen as protecting the temples of ancient times, the white lions are the protectors of the Christos Sophia Grail memory, and are intimately connected to the Goddess Traditions.

This moon feels like a cosmic moment where many are being asked to step forward not because they feel fully ready, but because the underworld has given them something that must now be shared.

The Truth that is often not fully acknowledged is that shedding feels like death. Its not a simple fire ritual of letting go of an old belief, it is a stripping of all previous orientation to self, reality, and relationship.

We are releasing versions of ourselves that learned how to survive within certain environments, communities, and belief systems.

Sometimes the identities we outgrow were born from love.
Sometimes they were born from trauma.
Often, they were both.

But either way, it is a process of dissolution, revelation, and emergence, on repeat.

This is not a logical process, it as an embodied initiatory rite, a true descent ritual into rebirth.

On February 17th we not only move into the Year of the Fire Horse, but we celebrate Lunar Imbolc, receive the first visible conjunction of Venus as the evening star after a long 2 month descent into the underworld, and a few days before Saturn officially lands into Aries.

This is spicy y’all, this is collective heat burning down an old field of energetic and physical structures and making way for a paradigm humanity has never seen before.

There is an image that continues to arise when I sit with this lunation and feel into the current threshold we stand on together and within my own inner evolution.

The serpent completing her final shedding deep within the cave, her body newly luminous and sensitive to touch. At the cave entrance calmly sits a solar Lion being as a guardian of the threshold between hidden transformation and visible life. A soft breathing pulse as a new vulnerable form emerges into the light of day again, cloaked in the love of the Divine.

The Lion does not force the serpent into the sunlight,

She simply asks:

Are you ready to live in the skin you have grown?

-Grace Asharah

-Wild Gnosis-

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I will be posting here more often in the themes of eros, creativity, feminine mysteries, archetypal embodiment, Mytho-somatics, and all kinds of juicy inspirations, as this year continues to unfold.

Thank you for all your support and love amidst the journey

A path that comes before sovereign power and births from rupture.

The priestess walks a different path. Different from the known hero’s journey. it is not a path of conquest; it is a path of deep descent and listening. A path of reclamation and restoring wholeness from the most disowned parts of herself.

We all know the story of Persephone. Painted as a damsel, weakly thrown into the arms of Hades and tortured to endure the underworld.

Once again, Mythos becomes distorted to take away the feminine power.

Persephone was no damsel in distress, she was ripe, a maiden drawn to the underworld by a force that felt like desire, fate, perhaps a little terror too. She was drawn to her forbidden fruit, that she did not yet know belonged to her.

Inanna also chose her descent.

In the old Sumerian texts, she walked through the 7 gates to find her underworld sister Ereshkigal and attempt to bargain with the underworld queen. As Queen of Heavens, she thought she could waltz in, but instead she was stripped bare until she met her final breath at the bottom of the underworld.

She was forced to relinquish her titles, adornment, power & identities until nothing remained but Truth. She descended to come in touch with what is true, to meet the feminine rite that is the ritual of dying before you die.

Just as the stories speak of Magdalene having the 7 demons casted out, Inanna passing through the 7 gates, this is the initiatory passage of the Venusian Feminine path. Magdalene had no demons casted out, she shed the layers of deception, ego, false power, vanity, and illusion to become a vessel for the Christos Sophia. The reason she could see the vision of the resurrection is because she had walked through it herself from within.

This is how the priestess is forged.

By flames that only the underworld can tend.

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The underworld is not an evil landscape.

it is the forbidden psyche,

the multidimensional womb,

the ancestral field

the place where the jewels of our power and depth of love stay hidden.

It is a dimension of the feminine psyche that has been intentionally demonized because it holds the worlds in balance. It contains the seeds of our reclaimed ancestral power, wisdom from lifetimes that got buried in amnesia, and gnosis of what true power is, not a tool of manipulation and distortion, but a potency of love that overcomes all evil.

In this initiation, some initiates meet a specific archetype.

Some may call him the trickster,

others may say the dark sorcerer,

the black magi,

the lover who sees her power before she does.

Every priestess meets the trickster, the dark sorcerer, that relationship that initiates her into unclaimed and forgotten power. It’s an archetypal journey that will almost destroy you. It is not some tale of fiction, but a lineage of initiation that lurs her in through an unknown desire for her own forbidden power.

This archetype has a magnetic depth, potency and potential that captivates the priestess into the dynamic pull with a sense of purpose that is unexplainable even to herself.

It is both a seduction and a confrontation into the unclaimed parts of her psyche.

A dance that draws her to the edges of annihilation and ecstasy as he drags her into the underworld to meet all that has been hidden within herself.

This entanglement teaches her how to have discernment amidst the chaos, The connection feels intoxicating and highly destabilizing and yet even in her desire to escape, she has already begun a journey that cannot be turned around.

This obsidian mirror of a relationship becomes a fire that forces her to face the darkness as a teacher, not something to run from. True power can only be reclaimed when all false identities are met and shed. In time the priestess begins to recognize her own untapped, wild and holy forbidden shadow. She begins to have reverence for her shadow nature and a knowing that she is whole even in the darkest parts of herself.

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The descent is not aimless.

Even in the destruction, there is a secret thread of purpose: the Sorcerer does not destroy her for cruelty but for initiation.

He compels her to encounter the unclaimed power that has been waiting, dormant, within her lineage and within her body. The priestess emerges from this encounter not merely altered but activated and embodied in ways she could never have imagined. She carries the depth, magnetism, authority, and sovereignty of a woman who has seen the abyss and claimed herself on the other side.

Ultimately, this archetype plays the role of both shadow and teacher for the feminine initiate to step into power she never knew she could hold and embody wisdom she could not have had without it. If she can face her own shadow in the mirror, she liberates herself from the forces that sought to break her. This passageway is not a loss, but the most ultimate reclamation of her own forbidden territory.

I met this myth, lived it in my own body.

Tasted the dripping juice of forgotten lore living within my blood and womb,

Felt the ache of lifetimes of betrayal coursing through my veins as ancient remembrance returned to my body.

I believed devotion could redeem the betrayals; I stayed munching pomegranate seeds when my soul beckoned me to leave.

and what I thought was love, was also one of the biggest initiations of my lifetime.

My womb, heart, & mind cracked open so my original blueprint & power could flood back into me.

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Like Inanna, and so many ancient myths of the Goddess, there comes the moment of death.

The old self dies,

the woman who abandoned herself dissolves

the woman who silenced her knowing melts

the woman who confused intensity for destiny sheds a final tear.

and in that darkness the priestess meets herself, fully.

all the suppressed grief, rage, Eros, boundaries, illusions

and it all dissolves back into the void as it forges a chrysalis for the initiate’s rebirth. And from the depths she rises, just as Persephone returns.

but she is not the same woman.

she is whole in her holy wild, she belongs to no underworld or illusion,

she is birthed in her power and sovereignty.

This story is a collective unfolding within the psyche & womb of awakening women.

many women are initiated unconsciously through relationships that broke them open

What was once priestess ritual has become a living myth to awaken us to the forgotten wisdom of the Feminine path.

When the temples burned and the initiates went underground, the rituals did not disappear. Our lineage may have gone silent, but the rites of passages of the Goddess cannot vanish.

They sought refuge within our unconscious, within the blood memory of our bodies, into the archive of Mother Earth. What were once rituals enacted in the temples have become living mythos’s awakening within the experiences of women around the world.

TBC. .

With depth & Heart

Grace Asharah

-Pre Order my new collection of poems focused on honoring grief as holy, heartbreak as initiation, and the tender journey of becoming called :

‘Hymns of a Heart Cracked Open’

in the link on my page.

Every lineage has a heart that has agreed to feel the pain that generations before had to swallow.

Every heart gets cracked open somehow or another.

Sometimes it is love and other times it’s loss. Sometimes from deep joy and others from unavoidable chaos. The pain of existence creeps in, not because it is wrong, but because it wants us to know what it means to be alive. This world covers up its scars, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t there. The shadows lurk and haunt us until we learn how to tend them.

Grief is not something to avoid. It is a teacher, a great initiator and an evolutionary function that drives us to transform into something we were not before. When we lose someone we love, when we touch the bleeding heart of what is happening in this world, when we get quiet enough to feel what is under the surface, tears stream and something awakens. Death and rebirth are the same inhale and exhale we take every day.

In this culture, grief is deeply misunderstood. We see someone crying, raging, or feeling immensely and immediately think “What is wrong with them?” Nothing is wrong with feeling deeply. There is a pandemic of forgetfulness in our world. The arts of grief tending, in a culture that stays illusively safe in numbness and medicates the aches, is deeply needed. We are taught to rush grief, silence the trembling sense of loss and sanitize our sorrow into palatable quotes shared on social media. Grief is a language much older then any history we can trace. It lives in the body; it whispers with a depth that every artist and poet knows intimately. It is not just about tears or feeling sad, it is an ocean that we learn to swim in for our whole lives. Sometimes the waters are calm and sometimes a tsunami strikes the shores of our body and we are pinned down by the intensity of everything all at once.

Tending grief is a ritual of being alive.

Long before therapy, self-help culture, and the modernized New Age, our ancestors went to the fire and grieved together. They had rituals that honored the dead, the losses, and the endings that are inevitable in life. Grief tending was a respected part of ancient culture, caring for those who are grieving was a natural part of being a part of community. We see small remains of this but our modern world still wants to microwave the process so we can get back to being productive. We cannot avoid the pain of loss, separation, or injustice. These are a part of the human experience that we all signed up for. These sensations move us into a version of ourselves we would have never become without it. It is an ultimate catalyst and something we all must learn how to be in relationship with. Grief is a fire we learn to tend throughout our lives, and its holy flames have so much to say if we can settle in and listen.

To be cracked open is exactly how the Divine wants us. It’s a sweet spot, as we ache on the floor with tears streaming down our face and eyes burning wide open with a gaze that is mixed with agony and awe. It pulls us apart, if we let it. It reshapes us from the inside out. It teaches us what it means to truly live in the precious beauty that is life. It deepens a state of presence we do not always get the chance to touch. Every time grief has visited me, there is a depth of closeness with the Divine that is unavoidable. As if the worlds merge and the heightened sensations attune my body to realms that can easily go unseen. Grief unravels us for a purpose; it cracks the walls of a calloused heart to face the inherited wounds and meet the parts of ourselves our ancestors could not bear to feel.

I write this not as someone who is perfectly healed or a master in any way, but as someone who has learned to fall apart with devotion. I write this as a woman who isn’t afraid to be cracked wide open by her own transformational process. My grief became a drumbeat that guided me deeper into the wounds I did not have the strength to face and my Soul’s Truth. My heartbreak became a ceremony I never wanted but needed in ways I would have never known to ask for. My ancestors handed me both their wisdom and their trauma, and long before I came into this body I said yes. I said yes to breaking the chains they couldn’t, I said yes because I could not bare for the pain to continue.

To break chains and liberate from patterns that were never yours is not everyone work in this lifetime. Yet I know there are many of us right now here on Earth doing exactly this.

And let’s be honest, it is often work that goes unseen, under celebrated and misunderstood.

It is not easy to face the pains of the past, to unravel ancestral strings that no one dared to pick up for multiple generations.

But we do it, not because we are braver, but because our soul knows it is part of why we came. It is the necessary inner work that initiates into the bigger purpose. I am a daughter to a lineage that could not soften for generations, that had to fight their way to freedom from cages people put them in. At this point in Earths evolution, none of us have gone untouched by genocide, persecution, and the many injustices of this world. This is a trauma we all hold in our blood’s memory, swimming behind the scenes of the fast pace society we are all trying to keep up with and wondering why we do.

When I cracked open, it was not only my own wounds that spilled out or the relationship that ended, but it was also the splitting of every ancestral seam that was living in the tapestry of my being. The uncried tears of every woman before me, the silent ache of men that had no opportunity to soften, the feeling of everything that was lost from my lineage and the pain that was swallowed in order to survive. There were vows I did not know I had taken, ancestral contracts that I was meant to break, and a new legacy meant to be written by my trembling hands. The striping down was not graceful. It was rather feral and on-going. Revealing every unhealed corner, every thread of lineage that taught me to shrink, sacrifice, and stay silent.

Sometimes what we feel does not fit to what is happening in our lives.

Sometimes little moments of rupture externally are catalysts for bigger transformation within. The body knows what it is doing, it is the oldest and wisest technology we have. When we can trust the bodies capacity to unwind, reveal, and restore, we regain deep trust in our capacity to feel emotion without letting them become who we are.

Emotion is meant to pass through us, like a storm that crosses the land. It can feel chaotic and tumultuous, but when we can remember how to breath through it, meet it with curiosity, or create something with it, we remember we are alchemists. The body is the oldest alchemist on Earth. What you feel does not need to make sense to anyone, it’s your job to get to know yourself through it all. To tend to the micro sensations, to discover how your body needs to move and how your voice needs to pray when the depths overcome.

If you are here reading this so far, something in you knows this terrain too. Life cracked you open one way or another and there is a longing to tend to what has been forgotten.

Your stories matter, your journey is a gift that is meant to be shared. We cannot hide the messy parts of transformation if we are every going to make real change in this world and our own inner landscape. In those moments when you need to remember that you are not broken. Or perhaps to say it more clearly, we are never not broken. We are allowed to feel what the world fears us to touch.

We can honor the aches as holy, grief as initiation, and the cracking open as a way the light enters us.

And perhaps most importantly,

May this be a reminder that on the other side of the shattering,

A new version of yourself is gathering their breath

With a brand-new voice

And a whole lot of medicine to share with the world.

-

Grace Asharah

((New Book of Poems coming in January 2026))

I have been walking this path for over 10 years. Listening to the mysterious whispers, uncovering the secretes buried within the mechanics of self and this universe, exploring consciousness through an infinite set of lenses that has led me to this evolutionary moment. Walking the creative–spiritual road of devotion, rupture, artistry, prayer, shadow work, pilgrimage, heartbreak, and recommitment. Ten years of dying and returning. Ten years of learning how to distill infinity into form through my hands, my lens, my voice, my body.

And even now, with everything I have lived,

I feel myself at the beginning again.

I remember 10 years ago, crying in my room after returning from hiking the Appalachian trail in total confusion. Spirit guided me to leave college and go on a pilgrimage of the most unforeseen nature. The strangest part about transformational experiences can often be returning to the place of origin where it seems like nothing has changed. Everyone is still doing the same thing, same routines, same lifestyle, yet now you see nothing the same. In that breakdown on my yoga mat, I prayed for my spiritual connection and awareness to mirror my physical world. At the time, it felt like two worlds with very few intersecting points.

That humble prayer on my knees led me on a massive journey of initiations that would ultimately, and slowly, carve me into the woman who is writing this now. But she did not know it then, she only had a carousel of future visions and a dream in her heart to awaken and remember herself home.

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There are seasons when life strips you down so completely that you no longer recognize the outline of your own name. Initiation doesn’t arrive as a neatly packaged rite of passage. It comes as the moment you find yourself kneeling on the floor of your life, bare-souled, breath shaky, with nothing left to offer but honesty.

This past year has been one long, unrelenting initiation.
Not a glamorous or luxurious spiritual retreat
but the real kind.
The kind that takes your illusions by the throat and asks,
“Are you ready to live what you speak?”

And so, I write this now, not as someone who has figured anything out, but as someone who is finally willing to admit she is still an ancient baby on this path and more at home in the mystery than in any mastery.

Initiation has not been an idea or a concept, it has been the curriculum of my life.

It has arrived as the relationships that shattered the parts of me still addicted to safety and suffering.
As the karmic patterns that dragged me into ancestral corridors I would have never walked down on my own.
As the months I didn’t know if I would ever find myself again.
As the years I loved from wounds and called it devotion.
As the illusions I clung to because I was terrified of my own power.

Initiation is the moment the soul says,
“Enough. Lets go deeper now.”

It is the stripping, the falling away, the bone-deep reckoning with who you have been, and the immense forgiveness required to let those versions go.

My 20’s were a crucible.

As I stand at the final months of my 20’s, I witness, with awe, the immensity I walked through to get here.

I met the Beloved, had an abrupt awakening that shifted my entire reality.

I unraveled the threads of feminine mystery, remembered the Divine in my body.

I found community with like hearted souls and the earth.

I came home to prayer and sisterhood that transforms me every day.

I apprenticed with the underworld.

Met the inherited ancestral patterns, excavated my little girl still curled in a ball from the day her father stopped showing up, ripped the spiritual bypassing masks off, tasted the ache of desiring to be chosen while I abandoned myself, befriended the shadows that wanted to be loved and not exiled.

Unprocessed pain becomes a teacher whether we want it to or not. And pain always leaves us with a gift, even when we cannot see it at first.

It was the last night of my third year dancing under the moon with women from around the world. I felt an earthquake beneath my heart, conversations swirling from women’s voices about going to the desert, and a gnosis that my life was about to change. The dawn came as I watched the sacred smoke dance into the morning light and the glow of a new womankind being birthed before all of our eyes. And after leaving those ceremony grounds, the great stripping of my old sense of self and life began.

My backpack of all of my sacreds, prayer pieces, beaded jewelry, offering bags and gifts, plus my passport, got stolen. I spiraled, not knowing how attached I was to these items until they were gone. I then proceeded to have the most difficult traveling experience of my life, trying to have a good time with someone who was determined to not have a good time. I was met face to face with the reality that the life I thought I was creating, for myself, with this man, with the people I was praying with, isn’t where God is taking me.

I am not one to skip out on a curriculum of embodiment and deeper gnosis. These chapters of my life amidst the deep prayers, ceremony, lineage repair, and karmic upheaval were a part of my souls training and becoming.

And now on this edge of a new decade and era with my life, I am faced with the immense gift and task of forgiving all the versions of myself that thought she was free yet did not know yet what that really means.

Forgiveness isn’t just a door you walk through and its down, it’s a hallway that I am still walking through.

After such profound unraveling, there is a quiet.

The silence that I had met when this journey began, the silence that feels like a long-lost friend that had never really left. A hypervigilance and warrior in me that I had clenched to for years is softening more and more by the days.

It’ is a tender & holy time for me right now.

some dreams were only meant to carry me to this threshold, and a new myth is weaving between the threads of lineage and legacy Spirit has been writing through me.

Becoming the Living Prayer

There’s a difference between talking a sacred path and living one fully.

To embody the prayer is to become unmistakably your own lineage of truth and not a collage of borrowed language, not the echo of another’s revelation, not the shadow of someone else’s initiation. You are the living, breathing myth that only your soul could have written.

When you fully live your prayer, your choices carry the weight of authenticity.
Your words arise from lived experience, not memorized doctrine.
You speak from the wound you healed, not about it.

You don’t just tell people the mountain can be climbed you show them the dirt under your nails, the scrapes on your knees, the places where the wind almost knocked you back down over and over but you kept going.
And because of that, others feel the truth of what you say in their bones. It is revelation that has become cellular.

Walking a path that isn’t fully your myth is a pandemic in a spiritual culture that is longing to belong and know our place.

Trying to fit your wild soul into someone else’s template will always feel wrong in your bone, offering teachings you haven’t fully metabolized and experienced wont fully translate and performing transformation instead of surrendering to it will never take you where your souls is deeply longing to go.

Trying to “be ahead” instead of being true exchanges authenticity for artificial reality. Your path will never feel like wearing clothing that fits perfectly if it was stitched from another person’s initiations.

A true path feels uncomfortable at times, but it also feels inevitable, even if you diverge. True initiation cannot be faked, it requires deep honesty that puts you on your knees, demands integrity, and that you surrender identities that once kept you alive

And it is often invisible. Quiet. Unperformed.

The living prayer is not about what is said, but the frequency animated beneath the words.

We are writing our mythic legacy with every choice we make, as it ripples into the threads of lineage both foreword and backwards.

It has felt crucial to my heart that I am truly practicing what I preach. That my life is a living embodiment of the prayers held in my heart & womb. Not in an idealistic perfection, but to truly be the living transmission that my art & offerings is an extension of.

I desire a life that teaches me how to truly walk my medicine

My offerings, whether photography, poetry, mythic writing, feminine mysteries, music or intuitive work, are not just content. They emerged from devotion to the deep inner work. They are the echo of the prayers I’ve lived through, not the ones I’ve memorized or spells I was told to cast.

Everything I create comes from the place in me that has birthed myself through the fire.

To become a living prayer is to let your life be the altar.
To let the divine rearrange you, again and again.
To allow your creations to be a reflection of where you’ve knelt, where you’ve risen, and where you’ve dared to love.

This is the vow I’m making with this next era of my life:

My work must come from what I have lived.
My art must come from what I have known in my bones.
My leadership must come from where I have been humbled.

This is where Wild Gnosis is forging me.

Wild Gnosis is the wisdom that comes from direct experience, not inherited doctrine or borrowed language. It is the knowledge that arrives through the body. A direct transmission between you & the Beloved. The truth that emerges from the ashes of a heartbreak. The voice that rises in you when you finally stop running from yourself. The knowing that can never be replaced by another’s Truth. The revelation that emerges from the depths of devotion to something bigger than Self.

Wild Gnosis is the wisdom that cannot be learned second-hand.
It must be lived. It must be felt. It must be earned through the initiations that no one witnesses but you.

This is the wisdom I trust.
This is the wisdom I’m writing from.
This is the wisdom shaping me from within.

To embody and be a living transmission of the wild and holy gnosis.

((Wild Gnosis: Coming out Samhain 2026))

like a low tidal pool, other times it rises.

Pressing up against my sternum and screaming :

“REMEMBER ME”

It often feels like I am on pilgrimage within myself. Holding a torch in the night, walking with precision to some new location within my soul’s landscape.

I have been experiencing massive withdrawal from my old identity. A deep longing for the woman I was.

My sacred body does not know who she is yet. The skins have shed into an unknown form.

My body is speaking

“I don’t know who I am without the place I once knew myself in”

My system has been scanning for some sense of orientation; community, sisterhood, the rituals that once held me in the mountains that knew me. A craving for an old timeline that does not exist anymore.

This longing for the past is emerging from my longing to feel grounded, in my body, surrounded by ritual, and deeply plugged in to mama Gaia. It was a place I had last truly felt those things in my body.

Yet this past was also full of spiritual disassociation, dependence on substances, entangled karmic relationships, & shaped by survival not my sovereignty.

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My nervous system wants to remember the safety, not the suffering.

Yet my soul remembers the truth that put me on a ship to sail into a new life.

And these parts of me have been at war the last few days.

The truth is I have outgrown the woman I was.
And my body is grieving her.

The woman I was in Appalachia was slow, wild, anchored to prayer and the earth. And now deeper truths have awakened within me that can’t be unspoken.

The old version of myself tolerated instability because it was what my body was used to.

She accepted relationships that invalidated her true worth.

She healed through spiritual intensity and relied on these spiritual highs to feel whole.

Yet I miss her.
The woman who walked barefoot into the morning basking her bare body in the sun.

I miss the smoke curling the community’s prayers as it glistened at sunrise.

The way she let life move through her like a pulse of uncontained weather.

I miss the innocence of the way she believed safety could be found in wounded love,
In the humble ways she built altars from ashes and called it home.

I miss the simplicity of days spent by the river, singing with skin drums and my sister’s voices filling the cool night air.

Yet this woman I miss is not the skin on my flesh anymore.

She was a doorway to walkthrough
She held both blessings and illusions in her basket.

And now the woman I see in the mirror is the one she prayed to become.

A woman who has learned the power of her presence and breath and meets a sober dawn with clarity.

A woman who knows how to soften into transformation and honors the seasons of her life.

The woman I was is not a stable ground I can walk upon now

She is not arms to run back to,
But a version of myself I can bow to
With the deepest gratitude and grief, I’ve ever known

That has cracked me open into the woman I have become.

It is a liminal space to no longer be what was and not quiet fully embodied in what is becoming. This space is its own kind of bardo temple.

Low lit with just enough candles to move around comfortably but not enough light just yet to bask in the brilliance of what is forming in the chrysalis.

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The path I am walking now is harder. There is no escapism to play out. There is no substance to lean on. There are ancestral contracts breaking all around & within me. I am walking side by side in a true sacred partnership. I am building a real life from the ground up.

And it is uncomfortably beautiful.

And the part of me that wants to run back to an old reality is digesting that the best is yet to come. That this ejection from the life I was living is a blessing not a mistake.

This woman I am becoming has a depth and capacity that was not there before. Arms wide enough to hold all of life with a mercy and compassion that once only was wrapped around her own body.

This new life is coming in all new form, not from an old landscape that I once knew.

And yes, there is immense grief

And there is also immense possibility.

Because the woman I see now in the mirror is an answer to so many years of prayers. Forged from deep love, scars, grit, and grace.

And I am grateful beyond belief to be finding my footing on this new ground.

To hold it all is to live fully,

the grief and joy of becoming.

Image by: Amelia Doll

I had just begun to soften into, accept that I needed extra income this winter while I launched my work into the world on a new level. Yet while I was accepting it, deep down I was resenting it. A frustration quaking within me that I have to keep playing the odd job game because I am not able to support myself with my creative gifts and sacred work.

My boss’s slammed the door but all I felt was spirit slamming the door in my face saying:

“No more half living,

Not this way honey”

I have been praying for prosperity, for financial freedom, like many of us do.

I have been praying for a life where my mythic oracular soul, creative catalytic nature, and feminine gnosis ways will support me and others.

But once again, the prayer was answered with collapse. Much like this whole last year of my life. There has been total upheaval and miraculous renewal.

It is one of those moments where it feels like Spirit is squeezing me into total submission. Has me bound with hands tied above my head and blindfolded while seducing me with the smells of my future.

I sat with grief, some humiliation, some terror of “What the hell am I supposed to do” as my nervous system teetered towards flight.

and then that voice that I know so deeply spoke,

“You are breaking cycles,

melting chains,

you don’t get to stay in the old rooms honey”

Sometimes Great Mystery does not wait for your own bravery, sometimes she will just cast you out of the old story so that you are forced into your Truth again. It’s like walking through a storm and realizing the lightening is your own voice and the thunder is the rumbles of your feet walking in a new direction.

I am not a victim to the storm, the storm started within my wild heart. With a prayer for liberation for all beings that I began to walk 10 years ago. With a ripple of an awakening that has shifted the entire trajectory of this earth walk. When Spirit is trying to hand you the next chapter, do not cling on to what has been familiar.

This ache of change is just the precision of the blade of the Great Mystery. Cutting away, rather fiercely, all that would obstruct and siphon my energy from being directly focused on this creative path. As a writer, multidisciplinary artist, and ceremonialist I desire to bring dreams into reality. I deeply believe in the arts of inner alchemy, the way we transform our inner landscape and how it ripples into the physical world. Yet this isn’t an overnight process, it comes in waves of break downs and breakthroughs.

This is the raw-real life initiations you can’t get at a wellness retreat or from medicine ceremony. It is the behind-the-scenes moments of rupture that create a new pathway for a breakthrough. The moments where the old survival tactics no longer work and life is forcing you in a direction of unwavering faith. When you have big dreams, like I do, it requires big leaps. It requires doing things your old self would never do. It requires shameless hope and creative action.

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They say rejection is protection, and it’s true. Doors slam in our face only to point into a direction that wasn’t seen before. We often lose the safe and familiar pathway right before a breakthrough. The nervous system wants to interpret this as failure, or that we are doing something wrong, but in Truth, we are doing something right. As an old soul and chain breaker, this is a moment were staying small becomes more uncomfortable than taking the leap into that true direction.

This is the moment where there is a

full YES to my work

YES to my Artistry

YES to the power I have kept hidden for lifetimes.

This in-between void can be disorienting, like having many threads placed in the Divines hand and not knowing what new configuration is being woven. This is where identities get fed to the dragons, where the ancestral baggage crystalizes into reclaimed wisdom, where the deepest Truth can no longer be the side dish.

This is where trust becomes a lived experience within the Soma. The trembling grief and uncertainty activates electricity into the body. It calls us to ritualize the darkness, to breath more deeply at the gateway of our transformation. It is an exhale into a new depth of purposeful work and service in the form of gracious death to all that was before.

The body shakes because lineage is being rewritten, our voices tremble because a new legacy is being spoken, our souls howl because an ancient cage has been opened and all that is left is to take the next step.

I meet myself at this passage because deep down I know my intuitive creative work, feminine leadership, and authorship of my upcoming books is what my soul came here to share. I know my gifts aren’t “side projects” and neither are yours. Collapse create honesty to choose our soul’s craft. When life forces no ways around it, it is the blessing in disguise. Our Souls path is our true livelihood, and it is deliciously honest and creatively full of the Muse.

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Part of breaking old patterns and cycles is facing the ancestral survival codes and burning away old belief systems. All those hidden beliefs of not deserving abundance, self-doubt programing, ancestral wounding still living in the bones, and stories we picked up along lifetimes of a path to get here. We are not here to just survive anymore. We are taking our power and the earths power back all in one breath.

It is a daily practice of lighting a candle, speaking your prayer, speaking what is in the way, asking for support and clarity as you take on a new day of letting your souls dream lead the way.

It is a powerful act to change generational agreements, to shift the consciousness into a new geometric pattern of reciprocity and receptivity. This requires our presence and inner alchemical work to get in touch with those shadowy parts of self that linger in the backdrops of our daily experiences. It requires unhooking those narratives that are siphoning power, confidence, and creativity.

It forces us to strip everything away.

To crack open like a seed

Rearrange the timelines we were walking on

Find stillness in the pressure of metamorphosis

So that we may walk in alignment and integrity with our purpose.

And with trembling hands and voice, proclaim that holy YES to all that you are.

I stand with you at this threshold,

-Grace Asharah

((Wild Gnosis))

Thank you for reading & receiving

The deeper war that is happening upon mother earth is far more invisible, far more cosmically entangled and far clearer when we begin to understand the deeper mechanics of this Universe and this human experience.

The war is on frequency.

The war is on the womb.

The war is on subtlety.

It is a war whose true weapons are media, technology, shortened sound waves, distortion of noise and light that is influencing our bodies intelligence in more ways than one. This world traded organic dreams for concrete scenes and tv screens. Lost in a haze of the day to day, not even knowing our neighbors’ names. It’s a world we have been told has never been more connected yet has never felt more isolating and dissonant.

This war is tucked into the subtle, and not so subtle, manipulation of the attention, the nervous system, and the incredibly vast and intricate web of consciousness. It feeds off our disconnection to self, other and nature.

I am sure if you are reading this, you probably are already aware of this or at least have had your own theories on what is unfolding on project Gaia, our beautiful mother earth. But this writing has been wanting to pour out of me for some time, and now here it is.

If we were to look at war from a more spiritual or energetic lens, we would begin to see the mass ritual that it is covertly disguising as a political and religious plot. On a deeper level war has nothing to do with money, religion, or politics and everything to do with the harvesting of life force and innocence. This is a vast universe, with galaxies and worlds of species that the human being has been intentionally cut off from in this cycle. Galactic aspects of this war can be made into a whole other conversation, but ultimately what we see as physical wars on this planet stem from a deeper invisible thread that has had the human species at war for millions of years across worlds.

There has been an extreme increase of frequency warfare we have been facing in even just the last 5 years. A saturation of distorted signals, 5G, artificial intel used in inefficient ways, endless content scrolling, food stripped of life force, all of it creating a field where the human being is more easily influenced by distorted architecture of reality. Desensitizing the mind, emotions and nervous system to create a body that is numb to its original intelligence and creating a field of distortion that we are told is reality.

This aint’ no mythic underworld journey of reclaiming the shadows, I am speaking to an artificial overlay that is fogging our perceptual lens of reality. Yet even with all the attempts to disconnect and distort, our bodies are innately wired for coherence.

Our direct signal to Source overcomes all distortion fields faster than a 5G tower will fall. Our greatest power lies within reclaiming our inner voice, creativity, and sovereignty.

WHAT IS THE DISTORTION FIELD?

Distorted energetic architecture is the fracture of symbol and meaning, the inlay of noise beneath coherence, it is emotional bonding with a TV, a disconnected nervous system from a tree.

Distortion works by creating a hum of incoherence.

Crafting just enough static to keep you out of your natural rhythm, just enough overwhelm to prevent you from hearing your own intuitive voice and innate wisdom.

When the field is chaotic, people disconnect from their bodies.
When people disconnect from their bodies, they disconnect from Truth.
When truth is dimmed, control becomes effortless.

It is actually that simple.

The mechanisms are subtle:

• constant stimulation keeping the nervous system in micro-freeze or flight

• information cycles designed to hijack emotion

• devices that scatter attention

• foods that suppress the body’s natural electricity

• fractured online spaces that make resonance feel impossible

This isn’t conspiracy, this is the network of artificial ecology that some upon this planet would like to keep in place.
A disrupted ecosystem of consciousness that allows for false power structures to continue to farm the organic energy of the human being and of the Earth.

Distortion isn’t extracting from us though, it is fragmenting.

It scatters our energy into thousands of directions, dispersing our attention and losing center, which makes us easier to influence by media, shadow government structures, and dogma with agenda.

This fragmentation feels like:
• chronic fatigue
• emotional reactivity or numbness
• looping and intrusive thoughts
• self-doubt epidemic
• creative stagnation or freeze
• loss of direction and confusion

This is not because you are broken or unable to keep up with the standards of life, it means the standards we have been told is life is actually fragmenting us away from our core self awareness and connection to the real life.
It is because your field has been pulled apart, fragmented for the intention to ensure your attention is feeding a system of consumption and disconnection.

But these distorted architectures cannot erase core aspects of the human DNA which contains the truth that

The human being is built for resonance.

Our biology is literally designed to return to coherence when given the smallest opening to restore through silence, art, breath, ritual, nature, prayer, beauty. It all begins to send organic signals to the Nervous System that overrides the distortions rapidly. We are not bound to this field of distortion; we have the capacity to rewire and consciously choose what narratives we give our attention to and reclaim our sovereignty

Amidst the deepest noise,

the body never forgets its original song.

Image: Amelia Doll

ART AS A WEAPON & BODY AS THE ORIGINAL TECHNOLOGY

Distortion destabilizes the nervous system,
because a dysregulated body is easier to steer into control.

When you are overwhelmed, your intuition goes offline, your discernment goes dim, your creativity collapses, your sovereignty reduces to survival, your mind becomes reactive instead of receptive

This is why you feel “off” after scrolling, news cycles, certain places, certain people.

It is not psychological
it is vibrational.

Your system is signaling,
“These frequencies do not belong”

But we do not reclaim our energy by thinking differently, we make the shift by coming back home to the body. Returning to the ancient wisdom and ancestral knowledge that kept our bodies close to the earth and her elements. By breathing deeper into the belly. Because the body cannot be tricked the ways the mind and emotions can be.

The mind can be manipulated.
The emotions can be influenced.
But the soma only knows resonance.

The body always feels the Truth
before the mind can even comprehend it.

Discernment is actually somatic intelligence.

Truth feels like hum, drop, warmth, expansion.
Distortion feels like buzz, tightness, static, contraction.

Your body is the most advanced frequency-detection technology ever created.

These bodies are the most advanced technology on the planet.

As an artist, we have a sacred task of upholding resonance, hold a vow to Spirit and the Muse above any loyalty to a system.

To be an artist is to be a conduit for organic creative life force. Creation natrually puts us in a field of coherence, it restores our weary nervous systems in the same way a walk in the woods can.

When you create, you pull your scattered energy back into a single concentrated point and unify your field back into harmony.

Art cuts through the static, it is a torch of Truth in a world navigating a dark night. Art recalibrates the field, like a tuning fork, it holds the potential to transmit high consciousness and transmute that which keeps us in distortion. Art reminds us who we are underneath all the conditioning and societal grooming, it rewilds and attunes us to what is organic and True.

Empires fear the artist for a very simple reason,

Art cannot be controlled.

It comes from Source, not the systems. It breaks spells and writes new ones.

From ancient kingdoms to the corporate machines, the empire has tried to control, censor and co-opt the artists. Those who are loyal to the higher intelligence over the system have been seen as a threat. Whether it be the Witches and Priestesses, the Medicine men and women of the earth, artists and pirates, poets and outcasts, if you adhered to a reality outside of the prescribed norm, you were either labeled as crazy, persecuted or hidden away.

The artist has always found a way to walk between worlds, it is inherent in its archetypal superpower.

CREATIVITY RECONNECTS US TO OUR SOVEREIGN AUTHORITY. . .

Our creative life force cultivates our sensitivity to subtlety, intuition, and somatic intelligence. And once we feel this deeper Truth, there is no turning back. We can not be convinced otherwise from that moment on.

The empire requires numbness to control the masses,

but art makes numbness impossible.

Control depends upon emotional disconnection and suppression. It requires our fragmentation and attachment to distortion in order to maintain its fuel.

Creativity makes people feel, and feeling is revolutionary in times like this. The dimension of feeling, sensory awareness, and inhabiting the body is how we reclaim our attention, power, and life force.

Real art re-sensitizes.
It reopens the emotional body.
It makes people feel grief, love, longing, rage, power and the aliveness of what it means to be human.

Empires rely on apathy.
Art resurrects depth, it is resonance taking on form.

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DISCERNMENT IS THE DOOR TO SOVEREIGNTY

Discernment is not judgment or an intellectual skill.
Discernment is energetic clarity and a higher function of the mind.

This tool of discernment that we hold is a sensory intelligence that weaves intuition and higher intelligence into a filter system to know deeply what is true and what is a lie.

The body knows already, we could dismantle the entire system if everyone came back to the earth and they’re bodies. Because the body has a system of signals that communicates to you what is in resonance with your soul. Just a few generations of mental conditioning and the ability to attune and trust that built in system of discernment has become muffled signals.

It is the ability to feel the difference between:
• truth and noise
• soul guided intuition and egoic desire
• resonance and manipulation
• aliveness and addiction
• Wisdom and projection

Discernment is not about analyzing; it’s about attunement and deep listening.

To cultivate true gnosis we must taste all sides of the human experience, which grows a seed of embodied wisdom that supports the capacity to discern Truth from Illusion. Discernment dissolves all sense of confusion, and when that confusion loses its grip, we break a big spell of the distortion field. We reclaim sovereignty of our energetic field.

It is the art of knowing what belongs in your field and what does not. It offers us a doorway into a deeper experience with life, one that is woven with sovereignty and choice. Discernment is highly somatic, not conceptual.

It sounds more like :

• “Does this feel like my frequency?”

• “Does my body open or contract?”

• “Does this increase my aliveness?”

• “Is this draining or generative?”

than…

“Is this good or bad?”
“Is this safe or unsafe?”
“Is this true or false?”

Its not about your mind, this is somatic attunement, body intelligence, a deeper listening then the mind has the patience for. Though it is faster than the mind will ever be.

Discernment is the tool that can be used to tighten up the loose edges, to refine your attention into a direction that serves the deeper soul mission that you have incarnated for.

Discernment offers us orientation, direction, and coherence that reveals a deeper alignment. Sovereignty is the ability to stay in your own vibration without collapsing into the noise around you.

Discernment is how you maintain the integrity of your field. Once you know your own frequency, it easily becomes clear when something is not in alignment with your field and deviates your energy.

You are not meant to absorb everything, not everyone is meant to have access to you, not every idea belongs in your field, not every invitation is aligned to your destiny. Just because its coming your way, does not always mean it is meant to be embraced with open arms. Discernment is the filter that prevents your energy from being highjacked, removing the static and unnecessary noise.

Discernment can get confused for judgement. In the spiritual community’s people who have protective boundaries can often be gaslit into being called “closed off” or “cold” but being open hearted and unconditionally loving to everyone without discernment creates chaos. Alot can be learned by someone who doesn’t just go with the current everyone else is swimming in. We can hold a vast love and presence and still be discerning with who and what inhabits the eco system of our frequency field.

This is your reminder that your discernment is a tuning fork. It refines you into a light house for others because coherence stabilizes the field around you. Sovereignty and clarity inspires coherent energetic architecture in the world around you.

THE ARTIST AS FREQUENCY KEEPER

Every piece of art you make is a portal.

It is the rift in the matrix, a disruptor to the norm, a catalyst to remember something deeper.
Every transmission you share is a rupture in the field of distortion.
Every time you choose presence, you strengthen the original architecture of the Soul.

This is not metaphor, it is metaphysics.
Art calibrates reality, creation stabilizes consciousness and restores coherence to the inner and outer system.

And those who are called to create right now
you are not being called by accident.

You are being recruited by the Earth herself.

By the intelligence that remembers how to harmonize and restore Truth.

By the ancestral hum that says:
“Return the field to coherence, remember what is ancient and the core of who you are”

You chose to be here in these times for a high-level purpose, I truly feel that none of us are here by accident.

Your art is a tuning fork.
Your body is an instrument of Source.
Your voice is medicine.
Your presence is revolutionary.

The medicine that is you is the greatest weapon.

What we are living through is not just political unrest or cultural confusion, it is a frequency war, a battle over perception, presence, and the architecture of human consciousness.

Yet distortion and illusion do not have the final word,

it never does.

Underneath the noise, the human being remains an organic instrument, ancient, luminous, and perfectly capable of transmuting incoherence back into truth. Your cells hold the original blueprint. Your intuition is older than any empire. Your body is the living oracle, a transmitter of organic frequency.

In this moment of great planetary recalibration, it is the artists, mystiks, bards, dreamers, and visionaries that are being passed the torch of frequency. To be an artist is to be an architect of consciousness, to forge form from the formless, to hold a sanctuary of the muse in a world that has forgotten how to listen to her hums.

When you create from your unbroken connection to Source, you open pathways that distortion cannot touch. You remind people of their own resonance and bring the human nervous system back into remembrance. You return the field to clarity simply by embodying who you authentically are.

This is how the real revolution unfolds.
Not through violence or force, but through Frequency Sovereignty, from each of us choosing to become a clear signal in a world full of static.

We are not here to fight distortion,

We are here to transmute all energy back into coherence.

and we will.

Because even just one human being living in coherence, aliveness, and Truth ripples through the collective consciousness with a frequency no empire or system can override.

The field is listening.

Our ancestors are listening.

The Earth is listening.

The future is listening..

To win an invisible war we must remember our frequency is medicine and embody our True signal. Coherence, art, discernment, resonance, and prayer are the armor we will dance into this new paradigm with together.

From my ancient artist soul to yours,

Grace Asharah

(((Wild Gnosis)))

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All images taken by : Amelia Doll

Written by Grace Asharah of Wild Gnosis

A new self is still emerging…

ever feel like your very existence is just a constant work of art crafted by God’s hands?

and right when God takes a final breath of carving you, he giggles and says “lets play around again. .”

Its a beautiful love story, to be forged by the fires of becoming, to dance in the intoxicating flames of being.

I moved in with my beloved in September, and we have been quietly settling our roots into a new sanctuary. I never imagined I would be so in love, so willing to move myself into a home and create a temple with another human being at this time. But Spirit has a way of making things clear and seducing you into your highest good.

Once you’ve tasted the darkest parts of yourself, integration feels like a hot spring. Soaking your body into every sensation you need to relax into a new state of being. Rolling out on a steamy pan of new beginnings that now know :

You are always creating your own reality.

and the reality that, what if God is really seducing us into our greatest destiny?

Sometimes it’s a kinky mess

Sometimes it’s as soft as a wild flower meadow leading to the ocean

but its all for us.

a full feast of sensational experience to orgasmicly burst into who we are.

A new voice of poetry is emerging from me and for now I just am marinating in the language that is forming within.

I am working on something special in the background. My big poetry book wont be coming out until 2026 and in the meantime I have been percolating on a process of heart break and healing that is yearning me back into writing.

When the muse calls, I answer.

Stay tuned blazing angels. .

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We are being tested, challenged, edges revealing the obvious fractures of the sickness in society. It’s not about what is being floodlined on media streams or what side your standing on. The sickness breeding fear is driving this old paradigm

Can we go deeper?

Are we willing to go deeper?

To see the holographic layers of reality enough to see it could never be as black and white as it’s portrayed. There are many layers to the play we are watching. We have the sovereign choice to create our reality, live our present experience without getting sucked into the stories being told to us by media. It’s delicate as a flower losing its petals. When an old system is reaching its last efforts through the tendrils of control and misinformation, we are the ones holding the key to humanities solutions.

With great responsibility comes the need for deep awareness, the capacity to meet the traumas and the pain with reverence and without blame or shame. This asks of us to rise into the consciousness that illuminates blindness into clear vision. To shine the love that reveals wholeness in-spite of apparent division.

I’m walking a fine line within and without, life around me once again breaking down as the echo of autumns essence begins to breach through the living wisdom of life. There is confusion. There is grief. We are collectively standing at a door way deciding to walk through or to stay were we have been. It’s not just about humanity, it’s about what the earth is asking of us. It’s about sovereignty of our bodies and of the earths. It is an opportunity to choose the paradigm we are creating. Revealing what returning home really means at these times. What enlightenment was to the Buddha is not what it is now. To awaken now has a different template, a unique process that we each navigate through in auspicious ways.

Being open and present amidst change has been a constant lesson that always fills my gratitude and awareness of the temporal nature of this life. What a blessing to be alive the breathe in the sunlight, to walk upon soft earth and drink clean water.

I pray to be a vessel and not resist the natural evolution, breath and prayer creating the solutions.

•prayers from 23 year old Grace•