Spirit + art + music + healing
Xöetza: An Online Spirit Culture Magazine
by Liv Mokai Wheeler
Sixth edition: medicine that glistens and ripples into the future!
Greetings to you, beautiful soul!
in our sixth edition of Xöetza i felt called to feature some beautiful souls that i consider soul family!
many of you know and love sylvie zacrep and bilyana Cincarevic. both of these great souls have recently created books that feel so important and so otherworldly!
The Kontomblé also encouraged me to come together with waheed, natalie, shari and kyoko in a video conversation to share about our unique walks with spirit. may our conversation together be supportive to your journey!
with love,
liv mokai wheeler
Sixth edition: medicine that glistens and ripples into the future!
contents:
When the Goddess of the wilderness appears as a woman: we honor you bilyana Cincarevic!
Òran Saoraidh | A Song of Liberation: A Poetic Call for Cosmic Disclosure by sylvie zacrep
spirit culture conversations with waheed, natalie, shari, kyoko and liv
I honor Elder Malidoma Patrice Somé as well as the Kontomblé for weaving my path together with this great soul! We came together originally in Mongolia. It felt so natural to be on horseback with her journeying through the Taiga Forest with a village of women on horseback. May the soul of the Divine Feminine in her expression as the Wilderness return again to all the women who are ready to embody her!
Bilyana, to me, absolutely is an embodiment of the Goddess of the Wilderness. She embodies the kind of energy that strengthens the pulse of vitality! Bilyana’s devotion to her Ancestry as well as to the Serbian People is simply awesome to experience. She’s a woman that lives outside of time I do believe.
She also just created another Ancestral masterpiee! She created an incredible book, Honoring (https://biljanacincarevic.com/knjiga/).
The Kontomblé asked me to send a message to Bilyana. Here is my message to her with her response…
Liv: The Kontomblé asked me to ask you... the gorgeous pattern painting that you created, they're asking the traditional meaning in the pattern if you don't mind sharing.
Bilyana: The painting 'To defend and protect' is actually one of balkan kilims (old fashion carpet).
The patterns on this kilim are symbols of protection that represent entities of protection. I also added the phallus symbol, because the phallus in its core as an archetype represents a healthy male principle that is a protector (also the builder, intellect, rationality compass, lighthouse, the one who gives the seeds, strategist..)
But the first and main feature of male archetype represents the protector and protection. So this painting represents protection in itself but also preserves and protects the healthy male principle and archetype that is threatened in the time in which we live.
In the past, mothers, wives and sisters wove these rugs in small sizes for their man who went to defensive wars. (just to remind you that Serbia never had wars of conquest but defensive wars, through long history. That's why we who live here in Serbia and the region in our core we are warriors, because historical circumstances forced us to defend ourselves. )
Sending you much love
Liv: I very much honor what you're expressing, as well about the historical circumstances that forced the Serbians to become warriors. I honor your extraordinary strength as well as your beautiful precious heart Bilyana! The Kontomblé and I love you so much.
May we honor the Divine Feminine in her many expressions, May it be Sew!
Bilyana’s art IG: this link
And Bilyana’s website: www.biljanacincarevic.com
When I first began reading Sylvie’s book, Òran Saoraidh A Song of Liberation: A Poetic Call for Cosmic Disclosure, tears began streaming down my face. I believe Sylvie’s book is of the spark of multidimensional genius. It is a living ceremony. It is profoundly healing. It is also an incredibly important messenger that has the capacity to return children to their rightful place of innocence. Sylvie is incredibly brave, immensely gifted and has created a work of art that is of the Greats. I highly encourage anyone feeling called to purchase her book of poetry!
Throw the Bones Again
Posies withered planting lazuli stars in sands,
and you have times in your ears bygone alive.
Return, wee one in the sun,
sickle honed of cianalas at your waist,
she who dreams like lake ladies
with their mist-locked lochs of
apples so far from the silver tree.
They told you to sit waiting for princes but
you are not woven from that sort of story, no.
Return, dust of heavenly bear stars,
american you were born but once.
Plant your feet in machair that
gives way to rock pools in the skies.
Catch the faery tales true wandering through
time, through space, bring books back
to Earth with mirth to plant them in sìth firth.
Return to song sing like bones reverberating
wrestling every snake to the ground,
for here it is Brìde’s day eternally.
Cadences carried on lilting tongues,
it is time to evoke your Gaelic again.
But leave psalms in bloody ages,
errant weeds, no, nay, never again.
Return with the mists in the air,
ice clinging to your lashes once fear frozen.
Shake your hair like Cailleach, the runes
read there, story given, throw the bones again.
Loss weep like Bean-nighe setting
clothes for dead, braiding their hair
for journeys onward and so many are they now.
Return, child, to an tuath to grow
talls on hills wyld and wooded, to tor
climb like picts and enter through the starred gate
never vanquished, only hidden.
The hawthorn gives it away.
Child, this will never require that which they took,
verse keys not vein keys here.
Home it welcomes you, connects you restored.
She who plants prospering lazuli stars in firth, return
to times in your ears bygone but alive like birth.
Drum Dawn, Drum Star
Drum dawn, drum star
drum directions, constellation origins all.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
Tall, wide this web with skin stretched taut to croon
heartbeat of Earth, Sun, and always Moon.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
Kin spin, stomping in circles of deer that jump in time
to beat prance, dance, the feet of rhyme.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
Many mallets, diverse drummers
but bells circle ankles, not shackles now.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
Ringing, bringing, an old song
a new song, an old family once renewed.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
They catch the fall of stars and put them in the soil
like faith, like sustenance.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
Those rain makers, tit shakers, tongue lilters
cantrip dancers of earthen revivals.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
She-bears grow, he-bears glow
two-spirits caw murders of crow.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
So come the hawks, the doves savage
and London Bridge falls down final.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
Havoc holes to China are filled with tears
barley fields wave, no shaking now.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
Reaching sun without grey, without snakes
without fear of taking, taken, gone.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
And sown the bells chime echoing
onwards out on air of ballading belters.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
Drumming drummers, humming hummers
ways milky pouring down new cosmogony.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
Dawning eras, dawning times
dawning bifrosts for to climb.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
For children welcomed
those shine wonders, matter makers come.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
To drum dawn, drum star
drum directions, constellation origins all.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
Tall, wide this web with skin stretched taut to croon
heartbeat of Earth, Sun, and always Moon.
Thog i hò air na drumaichean.
The Neighbours That Bring the Mist
Guard the Wee
good are the neighbours
the neighbours that sing
hallowed hills of gloried root
queer shining mists they bring
to guard the wee with the tree
of many branches blossomed
apples of life seen by few yet
always seen by those who flew
expressions of Danú many true
good these guards of fire blue
good are the neighbours
the neighbours mists bring