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The Medicine Language

They say we are made of stardust, but I disagree. I say we are made of magic. Ancient, feral, ordinary magic. We are the wind-shaped organs of the goddess, and our voices are her pulse.

On instagram this week the community has been invited to explore their media messaging - what & why they speak out. My message is that I believe we are mythic, we are divine, all of us - man, woman, owl, bear, tree, faery, star, firefly, continent - and that once we knew how to speak the same language. But we grew alphabets. We grew hedges on our lands and in our hearts. We allowed small people to have great power over us. And so we forgot the mothertongue.

I believe story, poetry, song, thunder, tidewash, are all ways in which the universe sings to us. We can capture the threads of it: we can hold up a bone needle to the wind and knit what we unravel from it, or translate with our feet the lullabies of ocean, river, mountain. I write because I am drawn to do this. It is my spiritual practice. It is what I have been given to do in this passage through the world. I do it for my gods, and for you.

My heart breaks when I think of how very far humankind has turned away from our understanding of how we are all divine, all connected. We have lost the very language that was meant to guide us through this earthly experience so we could be birthed from it fully wise and ready for the next part of our existence. That language, it's our medicine. It tells us all we need to live and love and thrive and heal. And we gave it up for the stony words of a few men. They made us fear them, then they told us how our fear would keep us safe. The awfulness of those men has been inherited on down through the centuries, and infected all our world. Now the trees, badgers, clouds, salmon, children, are pressed and broken by them.

But I also believe that there are always some who remember echoes of the mothertongue, and they share it as often and as far as they can. More and more these days people are speaking it. A great community of healers is arising. It's true, we can not recover our beautiful garden of a world without relanguaging or silencing the weapon-tongued men, but we must not ever lose the hope of the healers. They don't just help us experience this earth beautifully and wisely, but they remind us of who we really are. For the way they speak with words, hands, hearts, is our pulse.

Friend, the mothertongue is your heritage. It is in your bones and soul. Listen for it and speak it, whatever you can, for the sake of us all.


  1. I like your new blog style!

    "My heart breaks when I think of how very far humankind has turned away..."


  2. yes to all of this. "hedges in our hearts" indeed---very apt. i believe everything you say here.

    to sing the old songs of the stars and earth, to dance the unfathomably ancient rhythms of our own origin with our human feet, to rear our children gently and peacefully, to recognise ourselves in every living creature and in stones and rivers too...that is the only power and glory we should seek.

    truly, a great gathering of healers is needed. we have crafted a terrible poison, and it spreads throughout the world. every person with any sense of what it is to be whole is desperately needed now. you, and i, all of us. that is a very good reason to connect via media and in real life: to weave little webs of healing and support for us, for all life.


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