Reading · Andrea Mai Writes

first blackberries of the season…from a walk in Ravenwood Park

Beloveds, in this radiant season, I’m experiencing the shift into a way of being that is nothing-being.

It’s time for me to step back into the spaciousness of the good earth and ethers without promises and timelines. That means I’ll be here when it’s the right time.

The book I had planned to publish yesterday is here with me in a stack of loose pages. Something is happening because of it that is deeply personal and liberating. I’m holding off on publishing it, and instead, I’m breathing its words into the cosmos as they breathe into me. Praying them, singing them, chanting them as I plant and work in the garden that keeps growing.

In December 2023, I went to Soulogy Fest in Houston. And while there, the Grandmothers came in. The experience became a poem. It’s now living out its cosmic wave through my daily life in the garden, the woodshop, as I putter and create in the kitchen. Right now, I’m perfecting homemade crackers, kombucha, and starter for a sourdough gluten-free bread.

I might have shared this poem with you before. It has a much deeper expression through my life with each passing day, and I’m so grateful.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

        Grandmothers, you whispered your name
                      as you entered my frame
        The grandmothers are here, came the voice….
        Support and serve, it is Homecoming
        N Ah An Ra  Ra Es Tu Ki So ki ki so so
        Ja ma ra na eelio say. Mmmmmm hey
        We welcome you.
        In my bones they move like holy spirit plasma,
        Soft gentle, firm strong
        Wide hips birthed the way, sturdy hips
good and strong, our hips sing the song,
        Down in the gardens of mmmmmm hey
preparing the way
        Now you know, seed planter. Now you know. 
        Grandmothers in my veins
        whisper wisdom in the corners, blowing
something like truth into the ear canal,
        into the open bones, knee cap, the valley
between each finger, the palm of each hand, right
then left, left then right, you send smoke into the
open hollow of my throat ready to speak…
        Come now in, so to begin.

Until next time… blessed be, fellow traveler. You are loved. Enjoy enjoy ENJOY this journey of make-believe.

In love and harmony,

Andrea Mai

P.S. It is blissful to support those who are ready to explore intuitive/automatic/channeled writing. If you feel the call to work with me or explore this, let’s make time to chat about it. Schedule HERE.

Grandmothers

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