The Destiny of Memory
I first remembered a few years ago.
I started having past life memories, first of milking cows on a green island, drawing water, then of doing magic; of sealing wounds and singing to the moon, of laying on of hands and curing illness. I felt my feet roaming the green hills of Ireland. I remembered dancing under Venus and the crescent moon. I remembered dying, and being reborn, dying, and being reborn. Every time I was reborn, a veil of amnesia was cloaked over my spirit, before I entered Earth to do the walk again.
I saw the priestesses gathered at the temple of Newgrange, tending to those passing over the other side, and those coming in as well. The powerful women had the second sight, and the gift of prophecy.
I saw how history unfolded; how the women were burned, how the Western medical system was built on murder and removal of wise woman healers, indigenous peoples, indigenous Earth wisdom. I see collective consciousness, so malleable, formed by those in power, how Judeo-Christian patriarchal conditioning of consciousness began.
I swallow the lies, and watch my identity crumbling. I am not who I thought. I am not who they told me I was. I see why my soul always felt out of place, I see how the sisterhoods, the temples to the divine feminine, were brutalized. The time of the Great Forgetting happened. The forgetting of the…
