Remember when I blog posted about the archetype of the Story teller?
This is the extension of that message. The obligation to write our own stories. The call to #breakthemold when it comes to who we want to be.
In a world where we are handed a role, it’s our prerogative – if not a downright personal necessity – to question that, smash it, rewrite it…
You are not small.
You cannot be defined simply and indeed, every person exists between the lines. No matter what is written, it is not enough. The spiritual is the experiencing. The feel. The intuitive beats between what is defined by those outside of ourselves.
There is an enticing comfort in the game of names, to categorize everything into neat little lines that determine who and what “we are,” and allow us to control the world outside of ourselves by knowing who “they are,” which of course devolves into a mentality of us versus them – whosoever “they” might be.
Smug superiority clings in our throats like tar, cutting off the spiritual air that we breathe as we mock and taunt that which is not as we are. The roles we play give us the reliability of knowing what role we are playing, and in the boredom of this blandness we conform and become spiteful in so doing.
We do not create, nor thrive, nor grow if we repeat the same dusty cycles, walking the same road back and forth and never venturing from what is tested and known. Aggressive words slip like venom from the mouths of those secure in whatsoever they have allowed themselves to become, never questioning themselves, never pushing beyond the boundaries.
We are never small.
If we realise that we have limitless potential and eternity in our veins, why would we ever punish ourselves by remaining gridlocked in the ‘now’ version of ourselves instead of dipping our toes into the ‘could be’ and ‘dream’ us; to take a step along the road of becoming?
Who wants to remain stagnant and unchanged?
Only rot forms in still pools.
I want the river, the wild rapids of change, the furious undertow that drags the complacent down to the depths and drowns it, or the unknowingly depths of the ocean that is impenetrable to the limited human grasp…
The world is churning with a mentality of backwards, and in defiance those who live at the borders, the boundaries, the fringes and peek into the Void, who walk amongst the unseen and speak with the dead, the witches, the cunningfolk, the seers and the wanderers must dive head first into the waters, singing the teardrops of our ancestors to join us, envelop us, and be at one with us, as we prepare to fight back against the rot that festers in our society.
All people are limitless.
All deserve honour and respect, and a voice. Not only those who have culminated more so-called wealth at the expense of others and the land, who poison the minds and bodies of their fellow living beings, in all the forms that takes.
There is a call to action, a fury in the hearts of people, and these sparked embers will ignite and tear the stagnant order down. We will only get wilder. We will not crumble under the pressure of those clinging to their outmoded, outdated ways, thinking they have the power and snarl and snap trying to defend it; no, we have the power, we of the flow who shapeshift around the world, connecting, seeing, feeling and harmonising our voices with all the voices around us.
Hope is our superpower.
Not the limited greeting card version of hope that promises much and delivers nothing, but the hope that survived at the base of Pandora’s box amidst all the painful and tragic aspects of human experience; the hope that sees the world descending and refuses, refuses to give up on people. on humanity, and still sees the magick within the world, and that magick reflected within people.
We stand by the broken and the abused, and speak for those whose voice breaks. We fight for the justice against a broken system and stand by those who are beaten simply for their differences. We are all different, we are all the in-between spaces of the limited constricting lies of who humans are told we are to be.
Throw off the shackles of stereotype and role, defy sanitization, reject conformity with every inch of your soul.
There are a thousand, a million, a limitless amount of ways to be.
You do not need to be told who you are, you do not have to know who you are, you merely sample yourself in sips on a daily basis and walk your path in flux, becoming, unbecoming… free.
Stay Fluxy,and many blessings Starlet