Legacy of the Witch Wound

I sat at my laptop, my mind utterly blank. Aargh. It was like walking through toffee.

I knew what I wanted to say. So why was my brain frozen? Why was there a fist-sized knot in my solar plexus?

The temptation to distract was compelling. I could check Facebook. Fold the laundry. Put away those dishes. And what about that cupboard that needs decluttering? Now might be a good time.

Hmm.

I was writing a webinar called Healing the Invisibility of Feminine Wisdom. On the wounds of silencing and persecution that have been passed down through generations.

Witch hunts. Suppression of women. Slavery. Destruction of indigenous cultures.

About how they still underpin much of the fear of speaking up experienced by women, intuitives, conscious leaders, holistic practitioners.

I’m preparing to step out and speak publicly about this for the first time ...

… and the treacle tension I’m in is getting thicker and stickier by the minute.

Coincidence? Possibly not.

I felt caught between a rock and a hard place. There was nothing for it. Time to face this particular dragon.

I moved away from my screen and sat by the window. Breathing my energy down into my body, I deepened my awareness.

It wasn’t easy. This contraction was strong.

I created sacred space by calling on a higher wisdom to partner with me. My guides, beings of love, divine intelligence. (There are so many ways to do this.)

Held in the safety of this wisdom field, I explored the tension. Like going down in a lift, I sensed what was underneath each layer, tracking back to the contraction.

The first layer: What would people think of me coming out with this weird stuff? Less than 6 months before I was a respectable non-profit CEO leading a team of 100.

Dropping deeper, I felt my little 4-year-old self, cringing from the hurt of cutting ridicule and scorn. I held her with tenderness.

Deeper still I found the pain of the witch wound. Memories of betrayal, hostility, torn from loved ones, hard-hearted interrogation. Torture. Exile. Death.

Sweat broke out. Tears of sorrow and compassion.

The deepest layer. Heartbreak for everything that had been lost.

How what was passed down from generation to generation now …

… wasn’t the collective wisdom of the ages, healing knowledge, natural magic …

… but the protection strategies needed to keep our children safe in such times.

Keep your head down.
Hide your magic.
Don’t speak up.
Don’t dare to stand out.
Never draw attention to yourself.

It’s not safe to be seen.

Woah! This was it.

Tears streamed down my face with the depth of our hidden collective wounds.

The loss of an entire wisdom-based culture. The pain of hopelessness. Of utter defeat.

It took all my presence and radical empathy to hold a space for these feelings rather than be overwhelmed by then. (These are the superpowers we teach on our Embody Your Feminine Superpowers retreat.)

Each time I access a place inside myself deep and wide enough to hold these collective wounds, to turn towards them and touch them with love …

… I forge a deeper, wider centre. I dig the foundations that enable me to hold a powerful safe space for others.

It is no coincidence that as we step out as conscious leaders, coaches, healers, depth practitioners ...

… we need to heal these wounds of not being seen. For ourselves and our people.

This is an essential part of our sacred work.

With each step we take along this path, we heal the old collective wound.

This is the deep work of stepping into visibility.

This is the work I was born to do.

Want to join me?

I'm speaking about the 3 Keys to Visibility for Visionary Leaders in London on 6 March.

Join a small group of women to heal these collective patterns and reclaim our power on our Embody Your Feminine Superpowers retreat in Italy on 5-10 May.

I'd love to see you there. :-)

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