Underbar text på engelska:
Wild women can end the war machine in 2016
There is a place for Women’s rage, and the time is coming to unleash it into the world, and make way for the return of Eden. The Great Mother is forthcoming. The Matriarchy has made its ruling, and the fire of women will burn the old world to the ground. The Wild Woman will return to her rightful place, and life will be protected once again.
Women have been commanded to withhold their anger, to suppress it until it turns to acid in their joints as they watch their own children be sacrificed to war, to poverty, to addiction and other sicknesses that come from the holding back of Soul. Women must no longer tolerate a way of being that raises up one son, and tortures another to death.
The woman who has been neatly kept has learned her school lessons well. She sits quietly, with her knees pressed together, waiting. She is anguishing inside. She is flailing. Her life force has been bottled, and the world hangs from her breasts, sucking her dry of creativity, enthusiasm, and hope.
While our sisters languish, the Wild Woman stealthily moves across the edges of her unconsciousness, roaring, rustling, leaving offerings of blueberries and raw, bleeding meat to help her regain her energy, just enough to flee into the woods. The smell of iron in the blood, is there to awaken her instinctual self once again.
Women could end all war overnight if we stood together, One Love, One Voice. We could stop the world. We could end the reign of terror. Tomorrow! We can call our sons home. Call our brothers to our sides. Call our fathers and demand they take their fingers off the button.
We are not property, and our children are not shields and blood sacrifices.
There is a place for the rage of women, and it’s right where we are, each of us, right now. This fire is intelligent. It is a system of knowledge, privilege and potency. The slicing away of instinct has caused us to become frozen. We are told that Utopia is impossible and complex, but it isn’t either of these things.
It looks as though there are 10,000 things that separate humanity from the Utopian dream, but there is really only one: Numbness. No fully feeling person would ever agree to participate in the status quo, selling their miraculous lives by the hour, waving goodbye to the miracle child she held in her arms so long ago as he goes off to war.
His survival depends on his willingness to murder the children of other mothers, and so a woman is placed, involuntarily, in the camp of the oppressor. Even if her son returns home in one physical piece, still he has been taken from her. He is different. She can see it in his eyes. He now carries the spirit of war within him. The screams of those he was pitted against for his own survival live in him now. Her child is dead anyway.
The officiated systems are working perfectly, doing exactly what they were designed to do: control everything, freeze humanity into a low, slow energy pattern, and create so much entanglement that any attempt to address even a small change is blocked by other components of the system.
The rage of women will tear these down.
The fire and lightning of the Mother’s wrath will collapse it all.
The Wild Woman will come to reign once more.
Creation will go into labor.
You will be the one who births her.