Feb 13 • 7M

Saved Her in Our Cells

Channelled message from Jan 17, 2022

Annie Matan
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This channelled message was originally only made available to paid subscribers but on reflection I have decided that paywalls aren’t in alignment for me so I am re-releasing it for everyone. If you would like to support my work and its accessibility to all, please consider a paid subscription to The Priestess is IN for yourself or as a gift to someone else.

January 17, 2022

Saved Her in Our Cells

Channelled Message through Kohenet Annie Matan

Oh Mama, You're here.

Inside me and around me,

teaching and reminding me

to mother myself

with kindness first.

Gods! Too many generations of pain,

layers and layers

of hurt,

of not enough

of striving,

barely surviving,

being pulled away from You

from truth

by force.

Again and again,

until we were left

in listless, hopeless heaps

of pain and loss,

Dor l’dor,

generation to generation.

We were feasting on scraps,

and believing

that was all there was

and would ever be

for us,

for all.

We gobbled the lie

that we were unloved

because those crusts

were all we could get our hands on.

We fought over

Nothingness

until our bellies heaved

exhausted,

and our grief, compounded,

wore away our bodies

until we were naught but

skin stretched over brittle bones.

And there we felt

only Your absence.

And now,

after centuries of starvation,

You hold out

cups of steaming broth,

made from the marrow of Divinity

of our ancestors bones.

You say, “Drink.

their starvation and suffering

will not be in vain.

They saved the best for you.”

But…

it hurts sometimes to take You/Them in.

I want to take big, greedy gulps

but that leaves me queasy.

And one small sip at a time

feels cruelly slow.

Sip.

Rest.

Sip, (so much effort to clasp the earthen vessel and hold it shaking to my parched lips to slurp hot, liquid Goddess, swallow past the lump of despair, fall back against Your pillowy breast and breathe, catch my shuddering breath.)

You remind me to take all my time.

The elixir in the cup stays warm.

Always ready.

So I lean back

and let my body surrender

to softness.

One breath, limb, heartbeat, bone

by one.

Just hold me Mama.

In this truth of You

that somehow,

some dormant cells in me never forgot.

You've been secreted away

deep in my DNA

and are unfurling again inside me.

I did it. I held on.

I saved myself/You.

I died. Over and over.

I lied to protect what I prayed was true.

In each death, I cried with relief

when I returned to You.

And each time, You nurtured and nourished me

and set my soul back on its path.

Born again and again

to find You and hold on, somehow

despite it all

every time.

I am so tired.

Resting, alive in Your embrace,

my heartbeat,

the flesh on my unbroken body

tells me

this time is different.

I'm alive

and You are with me.

I am awake.

And You are real.

I've carried You inside me

from generation to generation.

We have.

For this lifetime, (please Goddess!)

is Your time, our time.

Your children rise with You.

We dance with Your light and Your shadow.

We sing Your songs.

We find You in each other.

Life, life, life.

We lift each other up,

restore, nurture and tend each other

healing wounds of forgetting

once and for all.

Our hands are Your hands.

Our feet are Your feet.

Our voices, Your voice.

Our foes are You.

We remember. We honor. We live.

I rest now.

Surrender to healing,

nestle into You

and feed slowly on the medicine of

my Becoming.

I am not afraid.

I am here against all odds.

You are with me.

I am alive. And I am here.

That is enough.