Being Left Behind By Everyone

Being left behind by everyone. By friend and foe. Lover and hateful. By all sides. By all hemispheres. Never quite fitting in. And of course I don’t.

A heart devoted to Europe in America. A wild feminine finding her way to surrender with a not yet aligned or authentically met masculine. Therein I fit in with trends of neither men or women in the present. The earth is with me yes, but so too am I in presence of the cosmos within me. I can’t not be. Within you too. No longer am I enchanted primarily by our earthliness. Though it certainly makes me not a servant to anything outside of me either.

The heart ecology of Celtic European universalism drips with whispers of this delicate dance between what has been staged as seemingly disparaging things. That from the grounding of, sees neither as opposites, but complimentary parts. The foreignly imposed hunting of earthly consciousness until it also became an internal trend now also morphing in reach for expressing itself as a feral feminine I love elements of, have explored thoroughly for years within myself, wild foraging, hands and feet covered in soil, walking lightly, dancing under moonlight, sun, rain and thunderstorms, but ultimately that I too have to distance myself from exteriorly. The frequency sense of feral woman that is. As a result of sensing within it the underlying alignment of trying too to control how so many women move with such presence to fit in or be rejected. Control over narratives too of how it is we got here.

Just as we see with the masculine in its own ways, so much about collectively aligning feminine energy these days is rather controlling. Why is control so bound in all directions these days? It’s so Abrahamic I can’t much relate. Yet it doesn’t mean I don’t try to. I simply fall short time and again, and so I withdraw again. I don’t want to be controlled by anybody. Masculine or feminine.

I don’t want to be controlled by nor control anything. Sky or earth. Control is foreign to all that I am.

There is a reason Celtic influences spread so far long ago with ease, and it has far more to do with the rich layers of sovereignty woven into it than much of anything conquering. It’s why Germanic, in a vastly larger heritage sense, and Celtic peoples often overlapped and not uncommonly shared sacred spaces. Sovereignty was something innate and reciprocal as it was to so much of indigenous Europe, transcending even these language heritages. The heart ecologies of which foreign to Europe internationalizing powers of old deemed unworthy of sovereignly existing. Because they could not be controlled from without.

Celtic Christianity is a wee bit different than European Christianity, which is then much different than Abrahamic. Does the relevance of any of this make any sense?

Is that not such a crux drifting about in the world? So many reaches for freedom amidst internationalizing landscapes ushering in control down upon and around everyone. Wildness to me is resisting it lovingly. Resisting control that is. It is rather Celtic of me to be honest. A wild feminine the world knows not what to do with in that it cannot box it in. Cannot tame nor blame it.

I seek not freedom from this realm, understanding we choose to be here, we are no prisoners here, this I know wholeheartedly, but I do seek freedom of the heart above near all else. Control over how the heart moves, senses, feels, that is what I cannot relate to, and certainly cannot surrender to, let alone submit under. I’m good without it. Regardless of which direction would try to sell me its version of freedom through control.

Freedom through love is all I could behold.

Returning to the Celtic vows to better understand the contradiction it is in this time. The contradiction I am maybe even. Freedom isn’t fierce and hard headed independence, fuck all anything else, just as it too could never be blind obedience. So many gravitate to wanting freedom, without the willingness to unpack the chains within, that work in opposition to it esoterically and in arrangements for love.

I feel the earth’s movement with me, just as I feel the combusting ecstasy of the celestial. All of it at the same time. Both are an ecstasy of their own kind. A suffering the same. The pressures shaping me. Moving me along. Neither letting me settle into spaces not meant for me, which unfortunately for me, seems just about everything these days. Yet in my own ruthlessness, I ever behold I am the common denominator. I am not dishonest with myself as to this.

As though a pillar between earth and sky, am I destined to never fit in much of anywhere in this time?

Feeling into why so many cultures and heart ecologies of the world are wholly incompatible with the heart frequencies and songs of Europe. From the Moors to modern flooding-ins and invasions, we see this same thing. Not even the scatterings across the earth through rather internationally imposed displacements could much change this within all. And reveal such similar struggles near everywhere our bodies have been spread and landed.

Contrary to popular opinion, it is not hatred of any other that stirs longing for distance in much of any, but rather heart ecology differences themselves. The whole of the world struggles with this in untold multitudes of ways. The wanting to be a part of it all but wanting also distance somehow. We see this within all peoples. Especially heightened through eras where each can barely sort it out for their own self’s. The clashing of identities, only compounded in the present by the growing prominence for controlling threads emerging to insist that self and identity are not valid at all. But in neither earth nor cosmic reality does that hold as valid really, does it?

All I can but do is return to myself amidst it all.

Breaking myself apart, as I also mend myself whole. That ever tending, ever releasing, ever renewing Celtic way of being. There is no chain within such weaving, just as there is no control over interior finding. Chains are a foreign way of being.

Rather, in every way and movement, interlace and braid, release and return are innate to, what I for lack of better word, discern as Celtic Europe. Within release is that there is never guarantee of return. Just as choosing to embody, there is always a bit of a choice in it, though not without mystery to it. Therein resides the beauty and integrity, however. It is not without reason that European prominent societies have built within them, so much freedom, even as there are perversions as to reasons, abuses of them, and the meanings.

So few in the world truly understand at present nor across time their own heart ecology, or how it is much of any have gotten to wherever it is they are. Though that is moreso the fault of the whole and none precisely, isn’t it?

I don’t ever want to not know myself. I don’t ever want to not love myself first. It is in the nature of this knowing, that one too comes to understand the need for any other to. In the rich depths of heart ecology consciousness and presence, one finds grace for recognizing not borders themselves, but boundaries and distance as holy and necessary.