Censorship is about you being who they want instead of expressing your truth and your voice. Its about being stepped on and silenced.
What is a maiden, mother or crone “supposed” to look like? How do you know what that age is supposed to look like when you've never been there before? What propagates society's beliefs into "what certain ages are supposed to look like" needs to stop being a judgement/marketing based thought process and just be a place of allowing and acceptance?
We can get caught up in the stories that we tell ourselves. Some of them have gone on too long and the well worn pages get harder and harder for us to turn as they crumble in our fingers. We no longer resonate with them but don't take the time to question what passages we are repeating.
We get used to the way things are. Humans are great like that. We can adapt to anything making things fit that we never dreamed before we could.
I get so tired of it. The "this is how you should look/feel/live/have" etc game. You need to stay over here in this societal approved place of perceived achievement. Like we need to drag around the skeletons of what we looked like or where we were before like some prize of where we used to stand.
I used to feel that being from a small place was intrinsically linked to feeling like you didn't fit in. You were different. You didn't quite connect in the basic ways that everyone wants to feel connected, the way we long for it like we humans do; the acceptance of all that we are.
Dreamland calls and off we fly into some secret night sky. Or perhaps to the depths of the ocean or the highest mountain. Wherever you go on this world or the next, what a funny thing when you can't shake the dream-state when you awaken.
Scorpio season is a time of death. The Earth is making ready for the time of darkness, going within, the leaves have fallen to the ground and the once lush trees are barren in the cold wind. We too make ready for the coming of the darkness, shedding what is no longer needed in preparation for the this deep time of the year. e in a constant fluid motion
Under the spellbinding illumination of the Full Moon we stand transfixed, gaze turned upwards towards the heavens in awe and reverence. A magical time falls upon us, casting enlightening into the shadows in even the darkest skies.