Women in Ireland were put to work in slavery in houses that were called "Magdalene Launderies," because they were seen as being too pretty, too sexy, or because they had gotten pregnant out of wedlock. It was not a reference to Magdalene as saint and first apostle. It was intended to shame these women, call them whores, and force them to forget their magic and the power of their sacred sexuality.
This morning, a big piece of healing came up just as I was basking in the afterglow of lovemaking (my favorite Monday-Morning-Prayer-Time).
Because my heart was already blown wide-open (thank you Beloved JT), some juicy fruit popped out.
First, I snapped out of a spell that I've fallen into in a million times. It's a great game that I play with myself in which I go too far into effort and busy-ness, and then complain because I don't like it. And then remember that I get to choose.
I choose magic over effort. I choose to co-create with the Divine rather than doing it all myself. I choose to allow, receive, and be supported. I am a YES to being delightfully surprised by what the Divine cooks up for me because it's always better than what I'd planned for myself.
Once I saw it, I knew where to look for this pattern in my body: It lives in my nervous system because it got set up when I was an infant. Energetically (and physically), it manifests as a FORWARD posture... The shape the body takes when it's trying to make something happen.
I found it. Relaxed and softened it. Arched my back to counter-act the forward habit. And gave myself the image/imprint of a newborn baby that I held over the weekend. Her system is not wired like mine; she is so chill. So held. So relaxed.
So that is the familiar pattern. The deeper layer looks like this:
JT said, "It feels like this goes even further back than your own infancy. In your mother's line."
I felt back to my ancestors... and saw that it was passed through my grandfather to my mother, from all the women in their lineage.
They were from Ireland.
These women were caught up in cycles and cycles and cycles of patriarchal persecution and lies from the Roman Catholic Church.
And slavery.
Yes, slavery. Oh, you didn't know?
Irish women were not allowed to be magical, radiant, juicy and sexual like me. They were not allowed to be healers, oracles, priestesses like me. They were persecuted for that. Hidden away in slave quarters and forced to WORK.
Their value was not in their BEING but in their DOING.
I saw them bent over the potato fields, and the laundry baskets. Hunched over, forward. I saw that this is why my mother and I both have bent too far forward, causing all kinds of painful arthritis in our necks and shoulders.
I did a big piece of healing around this... Not just for myself, but for all these women ancestors – and for any of you who may be playing the same game that I play: Thinking you have to effort; forgetting that you are magic.