The unnamed

What we are does not have a name. The previous labels, constructs, ways of being are falling away. They are obsolete. Those things had a place and a purpose but there is a definite wave of beings who are peeling away the layers, unbraiding the wiring, remembering something Other and finding nowhere to land.



Maybe we don’t land. Maybe we don’t settle. We want words only to be able to communicate what we feel, what we are. Maybe we hover. We levitate.



We are hybrids, carrying the galactic and the ancient earth. We are misfits, but only because we’ve come to a place that makes everything we are foreign, even among the peoples here. We long for community because I believe we once had it. But it was a long time ago, before we were scattered among the ethers waiting for this monumental time to emerge again. There was an element of safety needed. An energetic and astrological support in order to come here and unfold into remembering.



For now, we are Other. We don’t resonate with lightworking. We don’t even know what this language is that runs under our surface. We can eat death and transmute the densest energy. We can dive into the darkness, swim in it and send it running. We are dragon and fae and tree and star; fire, water, air and earth. We’ve been running for our lives and now it stops. Now we stop and turn around and face those who violated our very power and marrow.



Their time is up. We come back into balance and we sit in the unknowing and the knowing.



We just are.



And we are here to break this shit wide open.



We are no one.



And every one.

Written 2018

This Post Has One Comment

  1. Julie Your Montinieri

    Written in 2018?! Prophetic, I shouldn’t be surprised.

    Carrie, you are one of my tribe. I need to hear your strong voice, now more than ever.

    Lots of love to you in these precious times.

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