Wisdom

We hold trauma in the body.
We hold wisdom in the body too.

The trauma is shouty and reactive.
It’s the squeaky wheel,
wanting everyone to know it’s there,
but not what it’s really about.

The wisdom sits quietly, unassuming.
It asks nothing of us,
won’t try to be anything it’s not,
but it also never leaves.

It is always there,
underneath.
Waiting quietly for us to notice.
Waiting patiently for us to see.
It is always there with what we need.

We are all wise women.
We all have the ability to heal.
Ourselves, our children,
generations forward
and generations back.

The medicine women of times past
were just like you and me.
Ordinary women taking care of their villages.
Their magic came from the wisdom in their bodies.
It came from their relationship with
the quiet, patient parts of them,
and that relationship came from
their relationship with the dark,
hurt and scared parts.

It is a big, confronting,
sometimes overwhelming picture.
The big picture of intergenerational trauma
and intergenerational wisdom.
It feels like a lot,
to even be asked to look at it, I know.

But the whole picture is not for any one of us individually. That big, whole picture is for all of us to share. Even the part that is for us isn’t shown to us all at once but in pieces and layers small enough for a moment to hold.

All each of us need to do is be with the moment in front of us.
To be with the parts of us that are asking for our attention, wanting us to sit down quietly and have a cup of tea with them in each moment.

Because when the trauma held in our bodies,
gets the attention it wants and needs in these moments,
then there is space for the wisdom underneath to be seen and heard too.