Saved Her in Our Cells

This channelled message was originally only made available to paid subscribers but on reflection I have decided that paywalls aren’t in alignment for me so I am re-releasing it for everyone. If you would like to support my work and its accessibility to all, please consider a paid subscription to The Priestess is IN for yourself or as a gift to someone else. January 17, 2022 Saved Her in Our Cells Channelled Message through Kohenet Annie Matan Oh Mama, You're here. Inside me and around me, teaching and reminding me to mother myself with kindness first. Gods! Too many generations of pain, layers and layers of hurt, of not enough of striving, barely surviving, being pulled away from You from truth by force. Again and again, until we were left in listless, hopeless heaps of pain and loss, Dor l’dor, generation to generation. We were feasting on scraps, and believing that was all there was and would ever be for us, for all. We gobbled the lie that we were unloved because those crusts were all we could get our hands on. We fought over Nothingness until our bellies heaved exhausted, and our grief, compounded, wore away our bodies until we were naught but skin stretched over brittle bones. And there we felt only Your absence. And now, after centuries of starvation, You hold out cups of steaming broth, made from the marrow of Divinity of our ancestors bones. You say, “Drink. their starvation and suffering will not be in vain. They saved the best for you.” But… it hurts sometimes to take You/Them in. I want to take big, greedy gulps but that leaves me queasy. And one small sip at a time feels cruelly slow. Sip. Rest. Sip, (so much effort to clasp the earthen vessel and hold it shaking to my parched lips to slurp hot, liquid Goddess, swallow past the lump of despair, fall back against Your pillowy breast and breathe, catch my shuddering breath.) You remind me to take all my time. The elixir in the cup stays warm. Always ready. So I lean back and let my body surrender to softness. One breath, limb, heartbeat, bone by one. Just hold me Mama. In this truth of You that somehow, some dormant cells in me never forgot. You've been secreted away deep in my DNA and are unfurling again inside me. I did it. I held on. I saved myself/You. I died. Over and over. I lied to protect what I prayed was true. In each death, I cried with relief when I returned to You. And each time, You nurtured and nourished me and set my soul back on its path. Born again and again to find You and hold on, somehow despite it all every time. I am so tired. Resting, alive in Your embrace, my heartbeat, the flesh on my unbroken body tells me this time is different. I'm alive and You are with me. I am awake. And You are real. I've carried You inside me from generation to generation. We have. For this lifetime, (please Goddess!) is Your time, our time. Your children rise with You. We dance with Your light and Your shadow. We sing Your songs. We find You in each other. Life, life, life. We lift each other up, restore, nurture and tend each other healing wounds of forgetting once and for all. Our hands are Your hands. Our feet are Your feet. Our voices, Your voice. Our foes are You. We remember. We honor. We live. I rest now. Surrender to healing, nestle into You and feed slowly on the medicine of my Becoming. I am not afraid. I am here against all odds. You are with me. I am alive. And I am here. That is enough. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anniematan.substack.com/subscribe