Sarah La Rosa

A boundary growl

Sarah La Rosa
A boundary growl

The wild-wise soul knows where and when to draw the line. 

That intuitive guide always sits down hard in the gut, first. Low.

She hunches furred shoulders and growls a warning.

You know in your quiet moments where you've needed to draw things to a close, mark boundaries in the sand and rock of your life; where to draw the curtains shut against the noise and intrusion that has been unwelcome in your heart for some time.

You know where the growl is pointing you.

You know in your private self where and when and with whom there is violation~ the little nips, the small tears that threaten your sacred source of power.

Say no.

Walk away.

Clear out space.

Look for the places that need to be restored and contained in yourself.

You're not required to set up shop and hang a shingle out for every passer by to tour your soul.

Listen for the growl. Trust it.

This isn't arbitrary. This is necessary.

You need the space and liberty to unravel and unlearn and undo, so that the new can become, be woven, be created. 

New life requires a safe container to grow.

Make one.

Make of yourself a safe container for the sweet, sacred being that's longing to take shape in you.

Summon the howlers and the wolf-birds of dusk.

Call up the old medicine woman of your interior village, and bring her gifts of tobacco and clean salts.

Request her words of power to draw the line that etches a black circular burn just under the surface of your inner soils and shoreline.

She will whistle a note to the forest thresholds that is high and low at once, gathering the winged things, the clawed things, the toothed things that bare bright gums and flex sharp talons. 

They will hurry to you from the wilds, surrounding you, bearing you up in a storm of wind that rushes and blasts all that does not belong.

They will show you.

To draw the line.

To stand in the black light of a new moon and declare your ground is holy, sacred; a land set aside.

You are temenos, the sacred terrain of gods and angels.

This is your heritage. This is your legacy.

Feel into your stance, dropping on to all fours now, your teeth longer, whiter, sharper.

You are wild, woman. 

Guard your sacred place in time. Let there be no violation here. Do not allow it.