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Weaving my Tapestry

This last week or so I have been feeling loss and lost. A grief, related to my mother, surfaced.

'I forgive you' I whispered to myself as tears flowed. It was me I was forgiving.

I had closed my heart to my mother, my mum, my mummy, angry with choices she had made that I had not questioned or challenged. A harshness had replaced softness in my heart.

As I read the words of a soul sister today, I was reminded of the day of my mum's cremation. I recalled my throat being constricted, my heart pounding, my body felt like led weight. I gripped tightly onto my son's arm, stopping myself from falling to the ground, from wailing my grief

'I want my mummy'.

In these days of my own and the collective grief and loss, I have been flailing about, trying to hold on to worn out, already tethered threads of my life's tapestry.

I realised today as my tears flowed in remembrance of my mum, it is time to repair my tapestry. Time to add new colour, new images, a new story.

But also to repair those pieces I have been rejecting, which hold such beautiful wisdom in their pain or anger. Those pieces which tell the story of what has been, of what has led me to where and who I am.

With my heart softening and opening, I am able to see cleary, today, that where and who I am is not static. I am eve-olving. I am asking my-self to dance once again with my ancestors.

I am so grateful for all that my ancestors lived and passed down, generation to generation.

I am so grateful that I know I do not have to hold their pain as my own.

I am so grateful that their wisdom is in my bones.

So much of what they experienced was bruised and battered by the illusions created by the patriarchy.

I am weaving now with the energy of the feminine rising. With compassion and grace, power and potency, with the deep rooted connection to Mother Earth.

After I read my soul sisters words I went and sat with my daughter. I told her 'I love you'. I hugged her and felt my own mother's love pour in. How I would love to sit at the kitchen table with my mum and talk. To look into her eyes, to trace the lines on her face and weave them into my tapestry.

She gave me threads of gold my mum did.

I remember, walking into her bedroom when she was so frail, and gently kissing her on her forehead, soothing the frown from her brow, something she loved. It made her smile and reach for my hand.

'I love you Angie' she would say 'You have such healing hands'.

Her words and this memory is healing, deeply healing.

Love is reminding me of the illusion I have been caught up in.

Love is reminding me of the golden threads my mum gifted to me.

'I forgive you' I say to my-self again.

'I love you' I say to mum as I stroke her head.


Thank you Dainei for the words you shared, the activation I was longing for. xx

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