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What does intergenerational healing look like? Not in fanciful words or ornate practices, but in the raw depths of trenches working through it. The personal layers that so few seem to want released given the harder questions it arises within abutting social normatives. Does such work genuinely need a change in conditions, or is that an untruth we've been led to chase? A poetic walking through these processes and more.
From in the depths of the belly of the beast, as though devoured and left for dead there in a mass grave of sorts, one that so many have found themselves involuntarily corralled into in this era, the hard-earned lessons that freedom truly isn't free. Therefore, this work is also a renewal of appreciation for freedom multi-dimensionally and an authentic smudging of world warring energies metaphysically and psychospiritually that would seek to directionally prevent freedom where possible. A bridging between worlds in a taboo and verboten sense of world making, but also the documentation of intentional changes in movement to come for such amends in one's own interiority alone. All that is truly within our agency.
Part myth, part lived experience, part unspeakable in any broader sense. A regeneration in life in real time from the misled pursuit towards the caging's of prose and parvenu and the understood needful nature of leaving it behind. That there is a most beautiful world awaiting each of us that grow beyond the illusory promises held over our heads by the infamous invisible hand. The hand that, in my experiences, delivers common folk to the prisonous grave encountered. Despite all that, moving forward in full awareness that we are so much stronger and more lovely than we know. That each can find their own way out. May this work be like a lighthouse for those drowning off rocky shores. Those willing to put in the work to want to fly instead.
