There is a seed of freedom that has been with us since the first Mother.
Every generation passes this seed onto the next, imprinting it with its own beauty and
resiliency, and layering it with its own repressed pain.
It’s this seed that beckons us to get up and try again.
This seed pulses when we feel the touch of love,
when we look into babies' eyes or a wise old being.
It graces us with a ‘second wind’ over and over again.
Its an inexplicable, forgotten knowing of a majestic belonging and innocence we seem to seek and never find.
This seed needs the tears of our experiential forgiveness,
the atonement of our suppressed lineage pain, and the acknowledgement of our collective humbling grief.
This seed holds a deep radiant song that grants us hearing the more we lean in.
The deeper we listen,
the gentler we walk,
the softer we breathe,
the more we can open and be saturated by its guiding song.
This seed is the end,
and within its womb,
it is also nurturing a wondrous beginning.
Don’t give up on this divine seed of radiant freedom, for it will never give up on you.