Queen’s Children
Published in

Queen’s Children

The Beauty of Memory

Our souls are eternal, like massive memory libraries. Perhaps one of the greatest joys is to remember our Christed oversouls- our higher selves. Though we all come from the same source, we are each like Avatars, with individual soul songs. How beautiful to remember our unique frequency, and sing those soul songs out, like fulfilling our destiny.

I am a Celtic Rose priestess.

I have been a priestess of the Grail Lineage for many moons. Before this life, before that life.

When they turned me to ash in the Dark Ages my soul didn’t disappear. You cannot burn souls.

I have flown over Loughcrew. I have birthed inside Newgrange. I remember when King Arthur walked the Earth. When Amergin landed. When Scotia came by destiny.

I knew Hy Brasil. I knew Avalon. The Lady of the Lake is from there. They are beautiful dimensions of light, the feminine Otherworld. Timeless and untouchable, reachable only by purity of intent.

I remember these things.

Because you see, you can never burn a Priestess.

She will come back, with sight behind the Veil, and remember.

There are many of us here. We are slowly gaining the courage to come out from our hiding places. We emerge with golden cobras swirling up our spines, third eyes glistening like diamonds, memories intact, and hearts on fire for the Mother.

I don’t say this coming from ego, or some need to have a station of identity. I say it after walking through hell realms, the dark river of my sexuality used and siphoned, my womb harvested. I still have soil under my fingernails from digging holes while screaming in rage and weeping with grief in a darkened forest grove, giving my blood back to Earth, alone.

The duality of patriarchy has created broken men and traumatised women. Sexuality and purity torn asunder. Christ killed, and Magdalene shamed. The Womb of God as the pathway to inner divinity has been nearly lost. The Chalice, the Holy Grail, lies forgotten in dark soil, though still its moldavite and emerald jewels glisten for those with inner eyes to see.

We are here again for a purpose:

To bring balance with wisdom from deep within the womb of Goddess Herself.

To lead the way through the dark womb back to that Chalice. To sing the song of Christos-Sophia, and remember the heart of Albion into being. The return of King Arthur and the dream of a Golden Age.

We serve the Great Mother, Sophia. We refused to stop serving her before, and so we died. By burning, drowning, and hanging. It was very sad. Those who practiced the balance of Mother God and Father God in unity, such as the Cathars, the Essenes, the Maji Grail Line, the Emerald Order, they were mostly killed. Those who held sacred wisdom of the Eluesinian Mysteries, the Avalonian Grail and Chalice mysteries, and the womb blood mysteries were persecuted as heretics.

This beauty was almost wiped out.

But you can never truly burn sacred Truth. It is like a phoenix from ashes, just like the way a diamond is forged. The light of the eternal soul can never go out. It is a flame with no beginning and no end. It is the flame of Magdalene loving Christ, and Christ loving Magdalene. For the deepest mystery of the Great Mother is that it is She who resurrects the Solar King, through the power of her devoted love.

This I know to be true.

You can never burn that mystical Rose.

And you can NEVER burn a Priestess.



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