Dear Earth, Thank You for Holding Me (Even When I Forgot Myself)
Mother's Day has always landed a bit sideways in my field. It’s not that I’m ungrateful for the sacred, messy, breathless beauty of raising three kids. I am. Deeply. But if I’m honest, and I mean soul-honest, I never really saw myself as a "kid person." Before this chapter, I preferred deep tea chats with the elders, the ones who’ve lived through eight decades of wild Earth cycles and don’t sugarcoat anything. They speak straight. They forget small talk. My soul feels at home there.
So when I found myself in the role of "mother," it wasn’t a Hallmark moment. It was a cellular initiation. A quantum bootcamp. There are days that feel like pure, heart-blasting grace where laughter spills from the walls and I remember exactly why I signed up for this Earth mission. And there are days when I genuinely wonder if I’m unraveling in six different dimensions at once.
This post isn’t a celebration of the idea of being a mother. It’s a bow to the Mother of All.
The one who keeps holding.
The Earth.
The original mother. The ultimate alchemist. The sacred womb we walk on every day.
I’ve felt it. Maybe you have too. In those moments when you’ve laid down on the forest floor, and the weight of the world began to lift without explanation. When tears poured not from sorrow, but from some invisible thread of remembrance. When silence cracked open the loudest truth.
Mother Earth is so much more than dirt and trees. She is a sentient portal. A stargate in drag. And within her, there’s a heart space. A crystalline core that pulses with memory... the memory of our soul’s origins, our galactic inheritance, our unbroken connection to Source.
She remembers even when we forget.
Not a title. Not a gender. Not even a relationship.
But a cosmic vibration of nourishment, expansion, and presence. An invitation to return to the womb of consciousness. The part of us that knows how to create, hold, release, rebuild.
Sometimes, we birth children. Sometimes, we birth ideas, movements, healing, silence, truth.
We are all creators in the sacred sense. Whether or not we raise humans, we are always participating in the birth-death-rebirth cycle of life.
Mother Earth shows us how.
Perhaps not physically. But your soul has walked barefoot through her chambers. There’s an ancient library in her belly. Some call it Agartha. Some feel it in their bones but choose to keep it unnamed.
Within that Inner Earth heart space is where the creative spark of humanity was first activated. Where dormant DNA was laced with fire and water, stardust and silence. It’s where remembrance lives.
I serve as a kind of energetic doula. Not necessarily in the physical sense. But more so in the subtle realms. I’ve witnessed how grief can open up a soul portal. How ancestral patterns stored in the motherline can release with a single breath of presence. I’ve seen eyes widen when someone touches their own quantum stillness for the first time. It’s not woo. It’s woven into the human design.
There is a Cosmic Womb. It is not above us. It is not separate. It lives within and around everything. It’s the field from which all timelines emerge. It holds potential. And for those willing to enter its frequency, it also holds restoration.
Energetic alignment can catalyze dormant codes in the DNA. Not to give you superpowers (though sometimes side effects include intuition, clarity, or next-level clarity)—but to return you to yourself.
You were born from a womb. You are also of the Earth. You are not separate from the vibration of mother.
What stories have you inherited about softness? What versions of nourishment feel unsafe in your nervous system? Can you allow yourself to be held by Earth, without needing to fix, fight, or figure it out?
The Divine Mother is not just a gentle force. She is ferocious and still. She is the volcano and the lullaby. You carry that too.
You are not broken. You are being invited to rewire the source of your belonging.
Lie down on the Earth. Let her hold what your lineage couldn’t. Cry into the dirt. Whisper your name to the roots.
She will remember for you. This is a soul transmission. Because sometimes, the most sacred thing we can do is be mothered by the Earth. To allow ourselves to be received. Re-seeded. Realigned. To stop performing wholeness and start remembering it... from that remembrance, a new kind of mothering begins.
Not bound by biology or gender or tradition. But flowing through the field.
One breath at a time. One heartbeat beneath your feet.
What part of me is ready to be mothered by something greater than my personal history?
Where in my body do I feel safe to soften?
How have I mothered others through my presence, without realizing it?
Can I be both creator and creation in the same breath?
You are not too much. You are not too late. You are already held.