As collective sisters we shift from the roles of caregiver to breadwinner finding equilibrium in our forms of self expression. Creative minds locked in daily grinds our craft takes on rhythmic life remembered from ancestral spirits and past experience.
Despite banal necessity the world’s female tribe continue to forge age old bonds with God given talent. Insisting upon the life we had imagined without forfeiting the hours in between, dedicated to human relations.
Our children carve their paths most often with the very tools we hand them. Inconceivable gifts are born and shared when mother and child release inherent limitations, transforming real and imaginary burdens into catalysts for change.
Knowing what to keep and what to let go of for translation into our art propels the status quo of collective consciousness. Cradled in our hearts, lifting lethargy and embracing our divinity.
Age hands us a new pallet that colours blank spaces, courage grown from battles won and lost, faith rendered in blind devotion to our greater self stripping us down to the bare bones of our psychic sinew forcing us to cast away fear and insecurity, abuse and addiction. To lift the weight of the shadows, to find our synthesis on earth and to sustain new life without self sabotage.
“Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Following the fragrance of my soul,
Through the garden of touchstones
Tasting life whole,
this is me…
This is me.
Photo by Sandi