This was first published in “The Heretic” magazine in November, 2012, and then again on this site at the end of 2013. Although the historical context was different, it is still pertinent – perhaps even more so than before.

On this side of the Pond, where feverish electoral competition reigns over the airwaves, billboards and kitchen tables throughout all three countries of North America, it is hard to ignore the renewed communal debate with respect to victims in general…

Women like me, “of a certain age”, look at each other in disbelief – we thought we’d already fought and won these battles ages ago! And yet…perhaps we shouldn’t be so surprised…

A growing refugee population forms waves of nomadic humanity fleeing the violence of nature or society – wherever they land, these people are generally faced with hardship and xenophobia.

University students have historically been a major force for change within society, reminding their elders of their tarnished idealism and mortgaged dreams. I imagine that the propaganda machines elsewhere in the world – in Chile, or Spain or China – put in as much overtime as it did here in Quebec, slandering the motivation of the student movement and reacting with disproportionate violence and the hurried crafting of unconstitutional laws to suppress and contain their potential for social transformation. Broken bones, bloodied faces and brutal arrests were absolutely justified, according to popular (well-controlled) media, in order to teach the insurgents a lesson…

The “Occupy” movement that spread around the world was and still is protesting the manipulation and ruination of the global economy and resources by the elite “1%” of the population who rule from Wall Street and other financial power centres. This movement was successfully spun as a bunch of dirty lazy hippies – or spoilt children of privilege – who should get out and get jobs… This legitimate protest also saw police violence and hasty juggling of laws and ordinances to suppress and discourage it.

Indigenous people from the Amazon to Kenya to Tibet to northern Quebec are being massacred, forced from their tribal lands and into physical and spiritual starvation. Global outcry and petitions signed by concerned millions are largely ignored.

Recently, on CBC Radio, I heard E. L. James, the author of Fifty Shades of Grey, say that it should be self-evident to anyone who has read her books that the Submissive (woman) clearly has the power and control in the relationship she writes about. While James herself seemed to regard the rampant success of her books as a curiosity and took some exception to it being called “mommy porn”, the academic who was called upon to comment in this broadcast said that it was a logical expression of women in general being tired of having to be in control all the time and fantasising of being able to simply be submissive and follow orders.

Although in much of the West it has been considered politically incorrect to “blame the victim” since at least the 70s, it is still the cultural norm in much of the world to punish rape and sexual assault victims for the crimes committed against them.

The upper and middle classes have learned to separate themselves from victims by pitying them – one had to be poor, non-white, naive, ill-educated, unlucky…or just plain women…to be a victim. They couldn’t possibly be like Us, or We would no longer be able to believe that hard work and a steady climb up the ladder would ensure security and protection from the vicissitudes so obviously present in other people’s lives… Pop! There goes an illusion… Given the current times and state of the world, we never know who is going to be hit with the next massacre, earthquake, oil leak in the back yard, mining or gas company with rights to your land, or stalker with strange intent… Twenty-five million women and children are trafficked and sold into slavery each year. I remember when the whole population of Canada was twenty million!

Is victimization really random? In what seems to me an ironic twist of affairs, the spiritual community is largely in accord with the far right in believing that we suffer terrible fates because of nasty things that we ourselves have done – errors we have committed – the two groups only differing as to whether these things were done in this life or previous ones! (Although I do suppose that believing that one’s impoverishment is due to a previous history of misusing wealth is fundamentally different – and a whole lot less attractive to the righteously wealthy – than the belief that the poor just don’t work hard enough…!)

These are times when all stones are being turned over and the slimy stuff is crawling out from underneath, exposed for all to see… What we have not been sufficiently aware of, perhaps, is the persistent undercurrent of guilt, blame and shame that whirls around aggression (of all kinds) and the believed causes of its provocation. We are now revisiting what was swept under a variety of prettily-coloured and intricately-woven arguments for a few decades – people’s viscera seem to be speaking now more than social niceties… The lace gloves have been whipped off and the switchblades pulled out…

In occidental culture, the role of the sainted, religiously-inspired Martyr shifted historically to that of the Victim, who also got a lot of good press for a while… Crisis centres and compensation programs were set up – money was to be had… Then these Victims of circumstances and ill-will became Survivors – those who have struggled mightily with something horrible and managed to come out the other side – and marches, support groups and self-help books formed the next social phenomenon.

(Another image also arises, though, of wounded veterans, survivors of anonymous wars, showing off scars and recounting the stories of how they became debilitated as a way of it all making some kind of sense – of it having been worth something in the end… Like Holocaust survivors, we tell ourselves that we must remember to prevent the reoccurrence of such things ever again.)

Defining ourselves as survivors means that the scars still hurt – the wounding is still painful – but most importantly, a survivor, defined by her scars and what happened to her, is still under the power of the perpetrator(s) of the survived deeds. In an illicit and moving interview, again on CBC Radio, dissident artist-activist Ai Wei Wei, under the pressure and restrictions of house arrest in China, was asked what he would want to say to his deceased father, also a dissident and a great poet. His voice full of emotion, he replied, “I’m still alive.”

The victim/survivor also gets the opportunity to look at the aggressor from a higher moral ground, to decide that maybe he didn’t know any better, that he did the best he could given his upbringing, and that his errors and shortcomings can be forgiven out of magnanimity. Even those who do not feel able to forgive mostly believe that this is nonetheless what they should strive for, as forgiveness will bring them peace of mind.

Peace of mind, perhaps, but that of the righteously superior, secure in a whiter-than-white goodness that is achieved through the grand geste of letting the perpetrator off the hook – of not seeking the revenge that is believed due – the punishment that should, according to all that is upright and correct, be meted out, thereby giving the satisfaction of “just rewards”….The moral domination of one who has been given the right to Judge is the power of the Victim –“I may forgive, but I will never ever forget…”

Here, we haven’t healed anything – we’ve simply switched the rules of dominance and redefined the power struggle. Duality has once again been played out to perfection, as the aggressor-perpetrator becomes the victim…the lower guy on the totem pole of a newly-defined moral hierarchy…Aggression has to be seen as being the action of deviant individuals, because this is not the norm in Our Society.

Fault-finding and the application of punishment are necessary so that eyes are not turned toward what is inherently imbalanced in our social structure…

Best we keep the emotions highly tuned against rapists, paedophiles, loose men and women who steal spouses from their socially-acceptable lives… “Abuser!”, hissed through clenched teeth, has become the “Infidel!”, or “Heretic!” of old…

Perhaps the list of aggressors has just got too long and encompassed too many of us for comfort: we are once again looking at the victim with suspicion, doomed to bounce between polarities of blame until we finally grow up and stop pointing fingers. Blaming the victim is just the flip side of a society needing to lay culpability in someone’s lap.

The forgiveness that so many seek to cultivate in their hearts is therefore just not enough – it’s another facet of the scramble for survival through dominance that is NOT the best we can do as a species. Mere survival just doesn’t cut it anymore.

We’re beginning to understand the importance of the stories that we heard about our families – our People – in determining who we believe we are. Intergenerational trauma is finally being taken seriously as a template for individual and communal suffering, helping us to the understanding that all of us are responsible, and no one is to blame

There is a point in the centre of the seesaw that doesn’t move. You can spin it around forming a circle of all the varying hues of duality – the point at its centre is a place of stillness. This is the now-famous Zero Point of all potentials and unlimited energy, and THIS is where we must begin to focus our attention, our consciousness, our time and resources.

This is the sweet spot of the marriage of polarities – a place of inclusiveness…of Oneness – and it is where we will one day find peace.




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Magic, Mystery and Perfection…


It may be time to remind ourselves that all Life is woven of shimmering threads of Magic, Mystery and Perfection. Those of us who are holding frequencies of wonder and gratitude are being buffeted by waves of serendipity, synchronicity… let’s settle on describing it as Grace.

There is such immense clearing and expansion going on inside us all as ancient wounds unwind, unfurl and transform. Our passions arise from our wounding – walking through our pain we discover our unique brilliance, our individual manifestations of divinity, on the other side.

The path through our suffering is not necessarily clearly marked. Many of us wander around inside it and end up kind of enjoying the scenery, the dramas…the familiarity of it all. We often really believe that this is who we are. This is My Identity, and if it was good enough for my mom and dad and all the rest of my bloodline, well it’s bloody well good enough for me!

But this has been an uncommonly glorious Autumn in Quebec. Few hearts have been able to resist surges of joy and gratitude when confronted with the magnificence of Nature this year, and when we vibrate with these physical frequencies, we get a taste of who we really are.

Recently, I had the honour of assisting two births and a baptism within a very short time span.  Driving back to Heartroot after it all, I found myself pulled toward the Abbey of St. Benoit-du-Lac. It had been decades since I was there last, and I had no idea why I was being called there this time. As I walked from the parking lot to the main building that houses the abbey church and monastery, a very elderly nun approached as if she had been expecting me, smiled a greeting and continued on her way. I felt that I’d been blessed.

My feet took me to the Abbey church. Romanian-born Dan Hanganu (very recently deceased) created an architecture of beauteous simplicity, ultra-modern, but with a feeling of the old Cistercian monasteries (http://www.hanganu.com/index.php/en/projects/38-projets/institutionnel/1995/143-egliseabbatialedesaintbenoitdulac-en). Visitors learn that the original monastic community had arrived, exiled from the Benedictine Abbey of St. Wandrille, Normandy, by way of Belgium in 1912. When the monks who had remained in Belgium were able to return to Normandy in 1924, the monastery at St. Benoit-du-Lac became a separate priory and later an abbey.  I realised that we’d passed by St. Wandrille while exploring Normandy last year.

The sign indicating the way to the Abbey Boutique reminded me that the monks make excellent cheese! Down a flight of stairs, one passes through an area with an alcove of religious items – rosaries, CDs of religious music and the like, before getting to the food section. My eye was caught by a tiny glass-doored closet in the corner past a display of icons. In it were six cassocks and a variety of sashes – a tiny label told me these were liturgical vestments. They had price tags pinned to them, the prices written in pencil, like you find at church bake sales. No one was looking – I slid open the door, my hands went straight to a white wool cassock with embroidery that to me looked like the phases of the moon, and my heart exploded. The wool was hand-woven, the garment was hand-sewn – a deep, soft energy flowed from it and filled me. I closed the door and dazedly went and bought some cheese. The cashier confirmed with a superior that the vestments were really for sale, and anyone could buy them.

During the week that followed, I spoke of this experience to a few people. Growing in me was the realisation that one of the things that brings me the most joy is being a celebrant, assisting in the creation of meaningful rituals. The people who have asked me to help them have usually come from strong spiritual traditions with which they no longer completely resonate, but they don’t want to throw out the baby with the bathwater, rejecting spirituality altogether. I experience my role as that of a midwife to their sovereign spiritual selves, helping birth their ability to connect with Source on their own terms.

I was offered the vestment as an early birthday gift. Although there was a chance that it could have been sold in the interim, I wasn’t surprised to find it waiting… There was something very special in the air when I made the purchase – the two cashiers and I were all crying – happily! – as the cassock was carefully folded, packaged and placed gently in my hands with their blessings. I was told that one of the resident monks had made it himself, and worn it….

As I stepped across the threshold and out into the world, the Abbey bells began to chime….

Blessèd Be….


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La Magie, le Mystère et la Perfection….

(Mon français n’est pas parfait, mais je crois que vous allez me comprendre…)


Il est peut-être temps de nous rappeler que la Vie est tissée de fils scintillants de Magie, de Mystère et de Perfection. Ceux d’entre nous qui retiennent des fréquences d’émerveillement et de gratitude sont bousculés par des vagues de sérendipité, de synchronicité … décidons de la décrire comme la Grâce.

Il y a une immense clairière et une telle expansion à l’intérieur de nous tous, alors que les anciennes blessures se déroulent, se déploient et se transforment. Nos passions naissent de nos blessures – en traversant notre douleur, nous découvrons notre brillance unique – nos manifestations individuelles de divinité – de l’autre côté.

Le chemin à travers notre souffrance n’est pas nécessairement clairement indiqué. Beaucoup d’entre nous se promènent à l’intérieur et finissent en étant séduits par le paysage, les drames … la familiarité de tout cela. Nous croyons souvent que c’est Ça que nous sommes. Ceci est Mon Identité, et si elle était suffisante pour ma mère et mon père et tout le reste de ma lignée, ben… c’est assez bon pour moi aussi!

Mais nous avons eu un automne extraordinairement glorieux au Québec. Peu de cœurs ont été capables de résister à des poussées de joie et de gratitude face à la magnificence de la Nature cette année, et quand nous vibrions avec ces fréquences physiques, nous avons un avant-goût de qui nous sommes réellement.

Récemment, j’ai eu l’honneur d’assister à deux naissances et à un baptême dans un laps de temps très court. En rentrant à Heartroot après tout, je me suis retrouvé tirée vers l’Abbaye de Saint-Benoît-du-Lac. Ça faisait des décennies que j’étais là la dernière fois, et je ne savais pas pourquoi je me sentais appelée cette fois-ci. Alors que je marchais du parking au bâtiment principal qui abrite l’église abbatiale et le monastère, une religieuse très âgée s’est approchée comme si elle m’attendait, a souri et a continué son chemin. Je sentais que j’avais été bénie.

Mes pieds m’ont emmené à l’église de l’abbaye. Né en Roumanie, Dan Hanganu (très récemment décédé) a créé une architecture d’une belle simplicité, ultra-moderne, mais avec une aire des anciens monastères cisterciens (http://www.hanganu.com/index.php/fr/projets/38-projets/institutionnel/1995/142-egliseabbatialedesaintbenoitdulac). Les visiteurs apprennent que la communauté monastique originelle était arrivée, exilée de l’abbaye bénédictine de Saint-Wandrille en Normandie, par la Belgique en 1912. Lorsque les moines restés en Belgique purent retourner en Normandie en 1924, le monastère de St Benoit-du-Lac est devenu un prieuré séparé et plus tard une abbaye. Je me rendais compte que nous avions passé devant St. Wandrille en explorant la Normandie l’année dernière!

Le panneau indiquant la Boutique de l’Abbaye m’a rappelé que les moines font un excellent fromage! En bas d’un escalier, on traverse une zone avec une alcôve d’objets religieux – chapelets, CDs de musique religieuse et autres, avant d’arriver à la section de nourriture. Mon œil est tombé sur un petit placard vitré dans le coin en arrière d’un étalage d’icônes. Il y avait six soutanes et une variété de ceintures – une petite étiquette m’a dit qu’il s’agissait de vêtements liturgiques. Ils avaient des étiquettes épinglées à eux, les prix écrits au crayon, comme on trouve dans des levées de fonds dans des sous-sols d’églises. Personne ne regardait – j’ouvrais la porte, mes mains allaient droit à une soutane de laine blanche avec des broderies qui ressemblaient aux phases de la lune, et mon cœur explosait. La laine était tissée à la main, le vêtement était cousu à la main – une énergie profonde et douce en coulait et me remplissait. J’ai fermé la porte et, hébétée, je suis allé acheter du fromage. Le caissier a confirmé avec un supérieur que les vêtements étaient vraiment à vendre, et que n’importe qui pouvait les acheter.

Au cours de la semaine qui a suivi, j’ai parlé de cette expérience à quelques personnes. La réalisation grandissait en moi que l’une des choses qui m’apporte la plus grande joie est d’agir comme célébrant, aidant à la création de rituels significatifs. Les personnes qui m’ont demandé de les aider viennent généralement de fortes traditions spirituelles avec lesquelles elles ne résonnent plus complètement, mais elles ne veulent pas jeter le bébé avec l’eau du bain, rejetant totalement la spiritualité. J’expérimente mon rôle comme celui d’une sage-femme pour leur souveraineté spirituelle, contribuant ainsi à leur capacité de se connecter à la Source selon leurs propres termes.

Le vêtement m’a été offert comme cadeau d’anniversaire (2 mois d’avance!). Bien qu’il y eût une chance qu’il aurait pu être vendu dans l’intervalle, je n’ai pas été surprise de le trouver en attente! Il y avait quelque chose de très spécial dans l’air quand j’ai fait l’achat – les deux caissières et moi étions toutes en train de pleurer – de bonheur! – pendant que la soutane était soigneusement pliée, emballée et placée doucement dans mes mains avec leurs bénédictions. J’ai appris qu’un des moines de l’abbaye l’avait fait lui-même, et la portait….

Comme je franchissais le seuil et sortis dans le monde, les cloches de l’abbaye commençaient à sonner….

Béni soit-on…






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The Tyranny of “Normal”, Take 2

Not by any means a novel concept, but one that has been even more deeply etched into my heart these past few months, is the extent to which our definition of  ‘sane’ and ‘normal’ is an effective means of social control. This has been a recurring motif throughout my life, challenging all the little pieces in the puzzle of Identity – it is no surprise that it has come back to stare me in the face once more.

All that is Different is suspect – this is one of the fundamental survival tenets of Clan and Tribe. It is what keeps us safely within the white picket fence, tucked into the fluffy white smugness of Belonging. It is what ensures us support in times of distress – our Homeys will get our backs. Family is Forever – have you heard that as often as I? Family…Clan…Society… We long ago learned that we must conform in order to deserve the benefits that derive from the human community.

The enforced submission to social pressure is a well-documented and long-standing aspect of human culture and tradition.  ‘Io, Galileo Galilei…’, begins the text, still very legible in brown ink, written with a strong hand on technologically-preserved parchment. (see:https://dawnbramadat.wordpress.com/2012/04/14/lux-in-arcana/) In 1633, Galileo was forced to recant his heliocentric understanding of the solar system or be burnt at the stake; in 1992, the Vatican admitted it had unjustly condemned him. (http://www.nytimes.com/1992/10/31/world/after-350-years-vatican-says-galileo-was-right-it-moves.html)

Some degree of iconoclasm is acceptable – in artists, and, in times past when higher learning was supported by religion and aristocracy, not corporations, in the theoretical meanderings of Academia. But in-your-face Different is not cut of the same cloth – it is a threat to community identity and homogeneity, and therefore makes something in that reptilian hindbrain of ours go ‘Ding’ as adrenalin mounts and we begin frothing irrational slurs.

There is a psychological term dealing with the discomfort created by Otherness: ‘norm violation’. It’s got a distinctively criminal ring to it, don’t you think? This label is reserved for the sort of behaviour that makes a particular society cluck its collective tongue in disapproval and is used to explain the phenomenon of shunning. An individual who has the temerity to act as if she is not bound by the same rules as everyone else is ignored completely and sometimes even treated as if she has died. Excommunication, disinheritance and exile are of the same order of punishment: ‘You are no longer one of Us’.

But, as J. Krishnamurti famously said, ‘It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society’, and I would venture to suggest that few of the deeper thinkers on this present Earth of ours would give their social orders a clean bill of health.

Prof. Cornelius Jaenen, a specialist in early French-Canadian history at the University of Winnipeg in Manitoba, postulated that the thick volume of early laws that historians (still) use as evidence of oppression by France over its colony is rather an indication of a people who excelled in finding loopholes in the law. A regulation might state, for example, that ‘Persons shall not race their horses around the church during the saying of High Mass.’ The following year a regulation is added, reading: ‘Persons shall not race their horses around the church during the saying of Low Mass.’ It is clear that we are dealing with a resilient and witty folk – a far cry from the subservient populace of conventional wisdom.

I think we are dealing with something similar now. The internet has given us degrees of access to information and self-expression that were unthinkable even 10 years ago, and this coincides with an activation of other networks – of consciousness and planetary and universal Oneness. This is a time of great awakening and transformation – many feel we are in the Shift of the Ages (see my article in The Heretic magazine, Vol.5, ‘The Shift of the Ages’: http://www.amazon.ca/The-Heretic-Magazine-Volume-5-ebook/dp/B00K1P6LJS).

 As greater numbers of us snap out of the limited-visioned torpor that has been defined for us as normalcy and sanity, more repressive regulations are being created and applied with greater force.

Fatima Doumbouya gave birth to a healthy baby girl at her off-grid home in Pennsylvania – this was suspicious enough for medical authorities to seize the new-born for further ‘testing’ when the parents brought her to the hospital 6 days later for a routine check-up, and for accusations of negligence to be laid with Child Protection Services (seehttp://waittilyouhearthis.com/hospital-refuses-to-let-home-birth-mom-leave-with-her-baby ¸ and http://www.naturalcuresnotmedicine.com/2014/06/police-confiscate-healthy-baby-born-home.html ), accomplishing the secondary benefit of sowing terror and rage in home-birthing and off-grid populations.

Although the buzz-word of the last little while has been sustainability, if you actually choose to live it, you become a trouble-maker…even a potential terrorist.  (http://www.trueactivist.com/florida-mandates-off-grid-living-illegal/  and  http://thebovine.wordpress.com/2014/01/07/raw-milk-farmer-michael-schmidt-on-saving-the-sheep-from-the-wolves  and http://worldtruth.tv/collecting-rainwater-now-illegal-in-many-states-as-big-government-claims-ownership-over-our-water/ andhttp://www.wesupportorganic.com/2014/05/michigan-loses-right-to-farm-this-week-a-farewell-to-backyard-chickens-and-beekeepers.html) Suburbs are defined by lawns, and you’d better not try to plant anything that deviates from this often-toxic aesthetic – it’s actually illegal in many parts of the North American continent (http://www.motherearthnews.com/organic-gardening/right-to-grow-food-zl0z1211zrob.aspx#axzz36F4TSN00).

The official definition of terrorism in N. America has been stretched like cling wrap around the populace to smother dissenters, including those ‘reverent of individual liberty’ and ‘suspicious of centralized federal authority’ who ‘pay with cash’, ‘travel illogical distances’ or ‘stockpile food’ (http://pandaunite.org/who-is-a-terrorist/ andhttp://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2013/06/21/official-says-water-complaints-act-of-terrorism/2445071/ ). Are you fed up with your school dress code? What!? Where on earth did you get those terrorist inclinations (http://pandaunite.org/ndaa-middle-school-students-plan-to-break-dress-code-principal-screams-terrorism/ )?

Facebook’s disclosure of psychological experiments done on thousands of members to determine the malleability of their emotional states is disturbing, but the more alarming aspect of the story is the U.S. Department of Defense’s role in this ‘research’ (http://www.freedominfonet.net/facebooks-psychological-experiments-connected-department-defense-research-civil-unrest/).

Increasingly militarised police forces around the planet are engaging in wholesale plagiarism of the Old Testament, meting terror and conflagration for perceived threats to The Code – but people are FINALLY noticing. The American Civil Liberties Union as long ago as 2014 entitled its annual report ‘War Comes Home: The Excessive Militarization of American Police’ (https://www.aclu.org/criminal-law-reform/war-comes-home-excessive-militarization-american-police-report).

People of colour in the Americas are used to being harassed at the very least – we learn to roll with it as a basic survival skill. But the infamous 1% is defining itself more and more precisely by alienating an ever-widening spectrum of the population, and all of us squeezed into this little corner are beginning to talk to each other, or at least overhear each other’s conversations.

Finally, missing and murdered aboriginal women are being noticed. The horrifying extent (http://www.globalresearch.ca/global-human-trafficking-a-modern-form-of-slavery/5377853 ) of the slave trade of primarily women and children is no longer the best-kept secret of global heads of Church and State. The debilitating effects of white patriarchy on humanity of all genders, colours and creeds cannot be ignored – it is just too big and nasty a critter to sweep under the carpet anymore.  I won’t even begin here to broach the topic of North Korea…or Syria…or Israel…or…. Well, we could go on and on, couldn’t we?

‘Die Gedanken sind frei’ – ‘Thoughts are free’ – expressed an ancient human sentiment when it was composed by an unknown hand during the Peasant Wars in Germany in the 1520s (Edith Fowke and Joe Glazer, Songs of Work and Protest, 1973). Tailored to time and oppressions by such various voices as Mahler in 1898 for Lieder aus “Des Knaben Wunderhorn“Pete Seeger for his 1966 album, Dangerous Songs!?(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbwQXVcbkU0), Megaherz (Wer Bist Du, 1997) and Brazilian Girls (Brazilian Girls, 2005) it is even in the Unitarian Universalist Church hymn-book, where I heard it first as a child.

The most contentious piece of real estate on the planet is now between our ears. Perhaps our due diligence at this point is to realise the extent to which our thoughts are not free, but rather programmed by various strains of survival mentality, all based in fear.

The information maelstrom swirling around the recent mass shooting in Las Vegas has been fed by the multitude of alternative news sources now available to an ever-greater proportion of the public that distrusts mainstream media. At the same time, the fact that our smarter and smarter devices are messing with our minds has come out of not only the medical establishment, but also from the people who program these things in the first place (and won’t allow their children access to them!). Religion may once have been the opiate of the masses, but The Screen has supplanted it as our drug of choice.

Decades ago I went looking outside of my field of study in oriental medicine because I felt that this discipline had classed human emotions as symptoms of imbalance rather than honouring them as tools for self-understanding and realisation. That belief has been adopted by and now pervades allopathic medicine as well; we are all being convinced that we are mentally ill, requiring medication. ‘I mean’, how can we possibly remain productive members of society if we have to deal with the deep, deep wells of anger, sadness, fear and creative inspiration that lurk under the surface of every one of us? This could lead to chaos – social disintegration – the creaking halt of the wheels of the global economy! ‘Lions and tigers and bears! Oh, my!’

Not only have we reached the boiling point of generations of suppressed emotions and self-expression, we are also evolving into a fuller experience of our multidimensionality. ‘Gifts’ that once would relegate us to travelling freak shows are becoming the new normal: Everyone is psychic/telepathic/time-travelling…

Last year I spent a day in court defending a friend’s right not to be diagnosed as schizophrenic, incarcerated in a psych ward and injected with psychotropic drugs against her will. She’s a medicine woman, for heaven’s sake! What is she supposed to say when you ask her, ‘Do you hear voices?’! And anyway, don’t we all hear voices these days? It has become more a question of which ones we choose to listen to… The psychiatrist on my friend’s case considers himself extremely with-it. ‘I’m not here to be the tool of a patriarchal, colonial power’ was proclaimed to us before a cluster of his devotees, followed in private, witnessed only by my friend and me, by a chilling ‘I’ve been given this power and I am going to use it’.

It is hard to avoid the conclusion that the real War on Terror is being fought within ourselves, as we resist the powerful forces attempting with heavier and heavier jackbooted steps to suppress every wisp and whimsy of self-realisation. Confronted with a tsunami of planetary transformative momentum, it is taking ever-increasing quantities of determination and energy to maintain the fear of not fitting into cookie-cutter ‘little boxes on a hillside’ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_2lGkEU4Xs) herd reality.

The next time you hear that internalised voice of your culture insisting, ‘If you do that they’ll think you’re crazy’… why not just GO for it! You may give someone else the courage to do the same…




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Todo cambia… (version française)

La demi-lune croissante de la fin du mois d’août               fotolia_2314362_XS                                                                 Les feuilles commencent changer de                                  couleurs…   2017

Il a été tout un mois …

On dirait que l’humanité doit reconnaître et finalement comprendre ce qu’il faut faire avec ses impulsions les plus bas et leurs retombées. Comme nous sommes chacun des particules de l’organe qui est l’humanité dans le corps de l’être qui est Gaia, nous pouvons attendre à ce que les mêmes thèmes apparaissent dans nos propres corps et nos vies.

J’ai personnellement vécu une performance répétée – diluée un peu, merci – d’une expérience très difficile qui s’est passé il y a 25 ans. Je n’avais pas pressé tout le jus de la situation la première fois, alors je me suis retrouvé confronté à une autre femme qui avait étudié à mes côtés assez longtemps pour me considérer La Concurrence.

J’ai témoigné à ce processus de transférence des milliers de fois: il y a d’abord l’adoration et l’émulation, puis la défiance et éventuellement la compétition, avant que l’étudiant / la cliente ne parvienne à faire sa propre voie dans le monde. C’est émotionnellement logique, surtout inconscient, et une grande partie de l’étiquette et des légalités des codes de conduite professionnels ont été créés pour faire face aux conséquences de ces projections.

Le comportement « professionnel » exige que l’on bourre son cœur dans le coffre-fort du bureau sous clé, avec l’espoir que nous nous rappelons de le réparer lorsque le Travail se termine pour la journée.

Je n’ai jamais été fan de verrouiller mon cœur et, dans la plupart des cas, j’ai constaté avec reconnaissance qu’il était plus flexible et élastique que jamais imaginé. Mais cette fois-ci a frappé des tissus cicatrisés – des trucs anciens qui ont guéri ben dur – et avait du mal à s’étirer.

Mon esprit comprend où arriver – ou plutôt, je suppose que c’est mon Cœur Supérieur qui le sait. Je sais que la vérité de tous les êtres est Lumière, et que personne ne tente de nuire à un autre sans avoir été blessée d’abord. Je suis juste fatiguée maintenant de me mettre dans la ligne de feu de tant de personnes qui ont des vielles blessures avec leurs mères et ne choisissent pas de s’en rendre compte.

Alors … J’ai décidé de vivre cela comme un signe et une occasion de faire des changements dans ma vie et dans la direction de mon travail.

Je reconnais que beaucoup ont défini le travail que je fais par la qualité maternelle de mon touché. Certaines pensent encore que je fais du massage et le plus part considère ce que je fais comme un travail corporel. Un des résultats en est que les nombreuses heures que je passe par jour pour répondre à des courriels et à des questions téléphoniques, ou sur Skype ne sont pas considérées comme «travail » – c’est-à-dire que je ne suis pas payé, même si la plupart sont clairement des consultations …

Je jongle depuis des décennies entre La Ville et La Campagne, croyant que je devais voyager pour travailler en ville pour soutenir la Ferme, mais je me sentais souvent stressé de devoir trouver des gardiens fiables pour Heartroot.

Je me suis rarement senti capable de prendre le temps de cueillir et préparer les plantes médicinales et de me servir de l’abondance de la nourriture sauvage sur le terrain de Heartroot.

J’ai senti depuis des années qu’il y avait quelque chose qui descendait des éthers : une école … un ashram … un couvent!

Tout cela a tourbilloné et a pris la forme de ce qui sera en effet une école: une École pour Reprendre des Arts Féminines. Avant de vous étouffer ou de vous trébucher sur votre mâchoire, prenez un moment pour lire ce que j’ai attaché ci-dessous 😊

Je travaillerai principalement depuis Heartroot après cette année, en faisant des consultations par téléphone et sur Skype. Les gens qui veulent venir me voir là-bas sont également les bienvenus! Je vais toujours voyager partout où les gens me demandent d’aller pour enseigner, consulter, et faire des cérémonies pour la Terre. Si vous aimeriez que je travaille dans votre coin de la planète, laissez-moi savoir!

De plus en plus de personnes (de tous les genres, et des familles aussi) se prévalent des énergies de Heartroot pour des retraites personnelles de réflexion, pour travailler des projets spécifiques, ou pour la guérison personnelle. Je pense que cela se poursuivra et augmentera.

Vous remarquerez, au fur et à mesure que vous lisez le curriculum ci-joint, que c’est beaucoup plus de ce qu’une personne pourrait facilement faire. Je cherche des enseignantes qui aimeraient travailler chez Heartroot dans l’esprit d’une interdépendance de femmes – un nom collectif que je ressens reflète parfaitement l’état auquel nous évoluons dans la conscience …

Je me sens reconnaissante, et j’ai si hâte!

Bénit soit-on!

l’École pour Reprendre les Arts Féminines


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Todo cambia….


Waxing half-moon                                                The end of August as the leaves begin to turn…  2017

It’s been quite the month or so…

It feels as if Humanity is having to acknowledge and finally figure out what to do with its basest urges and their fallout. As we each are particles of the organ that is Humanity in the body of the being that is Gaia, we can expect the same themes to arise in our own bodies and lives.

I personally have lived a repeat performance – diluted somewhat, thank heavens – of an excruciating experience from 25 years ago. I hadn’t squeezed all the juice out of the situation the first time ‘round, and so found myself confronted with another woman who had studied by my side long enough to consider me The Competition.

I’ve witnessed this transference process a gazillion times: first comes adoration and emulation, then challenge and eventually competition, before finally the student/client leaves to make her own way in the world. It’s emotionally logical, mostly unconscious, and much of the etiquette and legalities of professional codes of conduct have been created to deal with the consequences of these projections.

“Professional” behaviour requires one to stuff one’s heart in the office safe under lock and key, hopefully remembering to take it back out again when Work ends for the day.

I’ve never been a fan of locking up my heart, and on most occasions, have gratefully observed it being more flexible and elastic than ever imagined. But this time hit some scar tissue – some old stuff that had healed hard – and it hurt to stretch.

My mind understands where to get to – or rather, I guess it’s my Higher Heart that Knows. I Know that the truth of all beings is Light, and that no one tries to hurt another without first being hurt themselves. I’m just tired right now of putting myself in the line of fire of so many people who have mother issues and don’t choose to realise it.

So… I’ve decided to live this as a sign and an opportunity to make some changes in my life and the direction of my work.

I recognise that many have defined the work I do by the maternal quality of my touch. Some still think that I do massage, and most consider what I do as bodywork. One result of this is that the many hours I spend per day replying to emails and answering phone queries or speaking to people on Skype are not considered “work” – i.e. I am not paid for it although most of it is clearly consultory in nature…

I’ve been doing a juggling act for decades now between City Mouse and Country Mouse, believing that I needed to travel to work in the city to support the Farm, yet often feeling stressed about having to find reliable caretakers for Heartroot.

I’ve rarely felt able to take the time I would need to make the herbal medicines and properly use the abundance of wild foods from the Land.

I’ve felt for years now that there’s been Something coming down the tube in the way of a school…an ashram…a convent!

This has all swirled around and taken the form of what will indeed be a school: a School for the Reclaiming of the Womanly Arts. Before you choke or trip over your jaw, take a moment to read what I’ve attached below 😊

I will be working mostly from Heartroot after this year, doing Skype and phone consultations. People who want to come see me there are also most welcome to do so! I’ll still be travelling wherever people ask me to go –  to teach, to consult, and to do clearing and ceremony for the Earth. If you’d like me to go work in your corner of the planet, just let me know!

More and more people (all genders as well as families) are availing themselves of the energies of Heartroot to take personal retreats for reflection, for specific projects, or for personal healing. My feeling is that this will continue and increase.

You’ll notice, as you read the curriculum enclosed, that this is far more than one person could comfortably do. I’m looking for teachers who would like to work from Heartroot in the spirit of an interdependence of women – a collective noun that I feel perfectly reflects the state to which we are evolving in consciousness….

I feel grateful and so excited!

Blessèd Be!








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Republié, avec amour…

Publié pour la première fois le 28 juillet 2012 sous le titre ‘The Return of the Mommy’ 

Ok, tout le monde… Il est temps de déposer les armes dissimulées; les arguments pointus, les regards appuyés, les attitudes de déni – oui, les livres de prière, notre copie trop usée de « la doctrine secrète » et les baguettes en cristal aussi… Et les crucifix et les malas, et tout l’attirail habituellement nécessaire pour vous protéger quand l’existence matérielle vous accule au pied du mur.

Débarrassons-nous de notre ton de voix haut perché d’apprenti sainteté, des sourires forcés, des prosternations et courbettes. Éteignez votre musique d’ambiance transe, enlevez vos bouchons et réduisez au silence ce CD d’Eckart Tolle. Éteignez l’encens, fermez le chakra coronal et venez donc vous asseoir près du feu. Il faut vraiment qu’on parle.

Parfois je me demande si je vais vivre assez longtemps pour voir les gens réaliser ce changement de paradigme – voir les gens vraiment saisir ce qu’est le Féminin Sacré.

Nous savons déjà qu’il faut protéger la terre – Facebook regorge de photos belles à en pleurer de ce joyau qu’est notre terre, suscitant notre amour de la nature, et d’images de dévastation de l’exploitation pétrolière, qui nous inspirent une honte et une rage perplexe (et éventuellement, je l’espère, des actions inspirées). L’aspect Terrestre du Féminin Sacré est facile à cerner par nos cœur et nos esprit, n’est-ce pas…?

Mais les principes et les idéaux pour lesquels nous nous battons – processus que nous appelons souvent notre mission de vie – sont nés des principes contraires à la programmation reçue durant notre enfance. Nous nous battons pour la justice lorsque nous avons subi l’injustice; nous dédions nos vies pour aider les enfants quand nous avons été profondément blessés dans l’enfance – nous résistons contre notre blessure intérieure, et cette opposition devient notre but principal. Le problème c’est que la programmation enregistrée dans notre psyché entre 0 et 5 ans devient le fondement de notre système de croyance. Les idéaux que nous adoptons comme fondement de notre existence sont en réalité en opposition avec ce que nous croyons réellement. Alors nous nous battons et résistons et nous sacrifions –  tous des mots d’opposition– mais en même temps nous sommes dans le déni de nos croyances véritables, sabotant nos propres combats. La personne qui fait des pieds et des mains pour prouver qu’elle n’est PAS stupide, insignifiante, vulnérable, impuissante, incapable de réaliser quoi que ce soit de substantiel, etc., porte réellement en elle, à un niveau cellulaire absolu, qu’elle est en fait toute ces choses. Si nous nous battons pour la justice, il est plus que probable que nous percevions le monde comme un endroit injuste…et c’est nos croyances profondes qui créent notre réalité, et non pas nos idéaux. Donc… nous aurons toujours un combat à mener…. À moins de reconnaître et de se libérer de notre programmation.

Nous avons appris au cours de ce millénaire que la vie dans un corps physique est un combat – nos corps sont des prisons que nous devons protéger, nourrir et habiller par un labeur constant. En plus, nous nous incarnons dans ce corps et la première chose que la majorité d’entre nous réalisent est que nous devons modeler notre attitude pour mériter l’amour des gens de qui notre survie dépend. Nous apprenons qu’afin de recevoir soins et amour (donc, par corollaire, pour survivre physiquement), nous devons en fait trahir notre âme – notre moi profond. La fracture corps/âme est mise en évidence et une antipathie envers le corps est crée. À ce moment, une relation amour-haine se développe avec la Mère – une relation qui teinte notre perception de la nourriture, de la Terre et de notre corps, spécialement s’il adonne qu’il soit féminin…

Ce que j’affirme ici, c’est que la majorité d’entre nous, particulièrement dans les communautés spirituelles, n’avons pas reconnu, et encore moins réalisé, l’intensité du dégoût/mépris, de la méfiance que nous éprouvons réellement envers les Autres aspects du Féminin Sacré – la maternité, nos corps, et la matérialité en général. Oui, nous trouvons les chatons attendrissants et les couchers de soleil magnifiques, mais ils ne pèsent pas suffisamment dans la balance pour compenser la dissonance du côté sombre de la physicalité – la vieillesse, la guerre, la pauvreté, la cruauté, les maladies… Nous nous centrons sur le mental et l’esprit, et toutes les méthodes possibles pour sortir du corps aussi vite que possible.

« Dieu le Père » est le père absent, héros perpétuel qui ne peut mal agir car il n’est pas là –  tandis que la Terre Mère est la présence immuable et par extension la mère non respectée qui a historiquement endossé la culpabilité et la responsabilité de tout ce qui a mal tourné. Notre état de conscience présent est similaire à quelqu’un qui déclare : « Ma mère était une sainte » et qui fuit pourtant comme la peste toute ressemblance possible avec elle. Mon père était un salaud – mais il détenait tout le pouvoir…

Tout au long de ma vie, j’ai souvent trouvé exténuant et même désolant d’être un porte-parole pour le Féminin – pour nos corps, parties intégrantes de la Terre, non seulement en tant que réceptacles accumulant notre histoire humaine, mais aussi en tant que véhicule de notre ascension – et pas seulement parce que j’ai été l’objet de tant de projections maternelles… J’imagine que cette lancée couvait depuis un bout de temps!

Voilà comme suit :

  • Entraîner nos corps pour obtenir une superbe apparence (peu importe ce que cela signifie pour chacun de nous individuellement) et pour les soumettre à tout ce que nous désirons qu’ils fassent, ne signifie pas aimer notre corps, pas plus qu’ « aimer » un enfant ou un animal en autant qu’il soit sage et obéissant, ou aimer la Nature seulement sous sa forme domestiquée et manucurée, et non pas sauvage, ne signifie réellement aimer.
  • Aimer la terre et pourtant haïr l’Humanité est un non-sequitur – nous faisons tous partie de l’être vivant qu’est Gaia;
  • En tant que femmes, nous sommes toutes aussi misogynes que les hommes, sinon davantage. Nous vénérons notre intellect tout en abusant notre corps; nous sommes avides de sororité mais préférons souvent la compagnie des hommes – ou des femmes masculinisées; nous adhérons encore à tous les stéréotypes négatifs concernant nos émotions, notre capacité à recevoir et notre capacité d’Être, simplement, sans performer notre vie – tous ces aspects étant perçus comme des signes de faiblesse et de vulnérabilité;
  • Phénomène déclanchant la frustration/l’amusement de plusieurs enseignantes, une voix masculine bénéficie de plus de crédibilité et par conséquent de plus de support. Une femme peut tenter de répandre un message durant plusieurs années; il ne sera entendu que lorsqu’un homme l’affirmera. Les auteurs publiés sont systématiquement privilégiés pour des promotions au détriment de tous ceux issus de la tradition orale et expérientielle.
  • La plupart d’entre nous sommes des touristes dans notre propre corps – et nous trouvons qu’un voyage dans notre corps, ne serait-ce que d’une journée, est une aventure extrême. Le ventre – et bien – c’est tout comme d’entrer en zone de guerre. C’est le lieu où nous accumulons tous les déchets toxiques de nos vies – un magma boueux de honte et de haine de soi entoure la force de vie créatrice habitant cet endroit, pour éventuellement l’étouffer… Toute action nous ramenant dans notre ventre – le sexe, la maternité, la danse du ventre – va inévitablement se révéler plus chaotique que nous l’imaginons, émotionnellement parlant.

Notre travail visant à redécouvrir le Féminin Sacré (qui en passant n’est parti nulle part, et existe sans regards pour notre capacité ou incapacité à le percevoir) doit impliquer une incursion dans notre corps qui est loin d’être plaisante, pour décharger les cellules des croyances ancestrales périmées concernant notre réalité et la place que nous y occupons… En rencontrant et en reconnaissant ces croyances, il devient possible de les dégager petit à petit, et de libérer ainsi notre corps et nos ancêtres des limitations de la dualité… Nous aurons finalement la possibilité d’exercer notre libre arbitre véritable, et de créer le futur que nous désirons…

Nous sommes en train de voir un Nouvel Humain émerger dans le monde. C’est une naissance normale, avec la tête qui pointe en premier…mais le corps doit suivre…! S’incarner pleinement, corps et esprit s’unissant, réconciliant la dualité Terre et Ciel, Esprit et Matière, est, je crois, notre destinée…et notre responsabilité.

Restez donc avec moi près du feu, encore un peu… Les pieds bien ancrés au sol, l’imagination s’étirant vers le multivers, le cœur lié par notre humanité mutuelle… notre destinée mutuelle… Ne le sentez-vous pas dans vos tripes et vos os, à quel point c’est un honneur et une merveille, d’habiter ce corps, ici et maintenant? Tandis que la gratitude emplit vos cœurs et se répand pour réchauffer votre être, la Déesse s’éveille en vous…

Bénis soit-on!

Bénédictions et amour,


Pour de l’aide pour mieux vivre dans votre corps, consultez :

https://dawnbramadat.wordpress.com/visualizations/  (en français et en anglais)

Texte traduit de l’anglais par Edith Labonté




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