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  • Writer's pictureDeborah Bright Wolf

Lilith moves in all women

The dark clouds that surrounded me broke and I found myself submerged deep within the womb waters of myself and the women before me, I was inescapably drenched in the truth and reality of my life and the lives of silenced women everywhere, including my ancestors.

I recognized them as they walked towards me and stood witness to my initiation; with their presence, I started to feel a small spark in myself and sensed something quiet moving within me.

Somewhere in the background was something faint, yet alive.

As though my ear to the ground was listening for the bubbling of ancient well waters.

I tracked the feeling to my sternum, and realised that I wasn’t able to move past it, it was as though the lower part of my body wasn’t there, it was numb, so I stood back and observed the numbness between the sternum and the upper belly.

As I focused, my inner waters released a bubble, and then more, and as my chest burned, I noticed very quickly that my waters, daresay my blood, was in fact boiling.

This was anger. My anger, and a shared anger of my ancestors, and perhaps of women in general.

It was beautiful and the aliveness in it astounded me.

My blood grew hotter and began to move ferociously throughout my body; racing madly towards my throat and fists, my dam was breaking.

An ancient energy rose up from within me; waking a sleeping dragon that whipped its tail wildly.

There was something about this experience that I was utterly enjoying that made me feel alive, solid and strong.

I’ve heard many times that anger is wrong, that you shouldn’t feel it, that it’s low vibration and perilous, but in this moment I realised how misguided those statements were.

What I was experiencing was a pure release, I was being supported and encouraged to feel my rage; and without this experience, it would lay hidden in me forever and surely turn in on itself.

My teeth snarled and my throat swelled, it became the centre in which the volcanic-like eruption needed to release itself from.

For so long this energy was hibernating and the immense force of it was flattened, dampened and deflated time and time again.

I understood finally why I had been so tired all these years; this unspoken rage was diminishing my life-force energy.

I surrendered to it, I had no choice, the energy surged and filled the room, moving from intense contraction to expansion; it broke through the ceiling and beyond that, reached the sun and kept growing even still.

The sheer force of it broke my bones, and my skin boiled and tore from its pressure, its intention was to turn all falsities into dust.

I was reminded in that moment of the exiled story of Lilith; an ancient feminine archetype from Hebrew creation mythology.

An archetype that we all embody. The bone mother, the one who will not be controlled or told what to do.

Lilith does not conform; she walks a path of truth and integrity. She can be expressed as many Goddesses and Deity’s and confronts the shadow, forcing us to change and walk in our truth.

She sees us in all our repression and it is her we feel in our blood as it boils over.

Be damned our inappropriateness, modesty or defiance.

When she is truly felt, she is the change that comes from courageous expression, the creator and the destroyer.

She is the feeling in our gut, the feeling that we outcast time and time again, the feeling when our boundaries are crossed and she lays waiting for her moment to open her jaws and howl.

Lilith is the truth that comes from the body when we release it, and is confronting as truth itself.

I realised that what I was feeling was not just about my relationship, it was about all my relationships, the truth started to ring in my ears, and even more so, what I was feeling was the constant quieting of women.

I saw flashes of sexual abuse and suffering from my own life and others, I saw my mother and my grandmother standing before me, there skirts ablaze in my own sea of flames, and I realised that it was their fire too.

Beyond them standing; were the women of the Jewish Iraqi tribes of Babylon, Judea, and Canaan were in the flames as well.

The women on my father’s side also gathered, the Brits, the Anglo Saxons, and the Scotts too, even further Vikings stood, all burned with me.

My womb began to throb and tighten, I had found the source of the bubbles and focused on that area, I had to be careful not to have the anger directed at myself of anyone else, just to feel it and observe it, but not allow it to take me over.

I felt my inner Lilith come alive.

I could see her now; she stood up from within me, naked and covered in blood, standing in a fire.

I understood in my bones that she had been protecting me and trying to get through to me my entire life.

Prior to any healing work I have done I may found myself frightened by her appearance, but over the years I have learnt discernment in the Spirit world, and I have learnt the hard way of what is real and what isn’t, what’s yours and what is someone else’s and what is for you and not for you.

What I was seeing before me was a representation of my rage, my ancestors and women in general.

I didn’t see evil, I didn’t see bad, cruel or scary, that’s not what she is, I saw the purity of what she represented and it was a relief to see her.

“Thank you sister”, I uttered, “I see you now and I will hear you, Thank you for keeping me safe”.

With those words my dam broke, and the rage transformed into its true form, grief, sadness and heartbreak, and it was old, so much older than the rage, I had found the original wounding.

The dark bleakness parted and the welcomed rain came, transforming the fires into smoke and steam.

I saw a battlefield that had now ended, and a small child approached me amongst the death, decay and silence.

I recognized her instantly, her shining hazel eyes and brown long hair, her soft cheeks with her stubborn chin.

She was young, young enough that I could pick her up, she reached out for me and I held and embraced her closely.

“Take me home”, she said, and with that my eyes opened and my hands reached for her in my heart.

I could feel my heart, and I could feel my legs and my stomach for the first time in centuries and I sobbed for what seemed lifetimes.

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