Dear Community,
We are on day five of a seven day quest to get to the essence of ourselves and our stories. 15 women gathered in person and hundreds of women around the world. We know it is time for new stories to emerge. We are giving birth to them together.
I am grateful to my coleader in this legend experience, Amber. And to every single person that it took to bring this experience to life. I am breathing a sigh of relief to pass this work to the future generations to and through all of you.
May the council continue.
Curate Shiloh Sophia
The living LEGEND
~~~
This goodness, it is all because of you
We are the daughters of ancient queens,
the kind that have rivers flow from between their teeth
and birds fly forth from their creation words.
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Remembering takes moons, moons upon moons,
all strung together as my mother's pearls.
Listen. I pray, I paint, I know things.
I see, I dream, I speak with stones.
I drum, I dance, I call the council.
Now how it is….is.
The sun has come to live in my heart.
This is now how it is.
Now how it is, is.
The moon is always shining at my back,
illuminating the past.
The corn of generations flows
from under the mantle of women
who gather to sing the sacred and plant seeds.
We who are intimate with dragons and jaguars
who ride horses to the center of the world because we care.
This is all because we care.
I live from within the consciousness of mountain speak,
slow and green, beneath their veil of greening,
a path, a path reveals itself before me.
There are stories chested, breasted,
nested within my promise.
And what is that promise?
The one I told you I would not forget.
That I would remember enough
to remind you that you are enough.
In a time when women are told
they do not speak mountain or river,
We know better though, don't we?
I pray, I paint, I know things.
Flowers bloom in my footsteps.
Simply because my feet worship the
earth and earth is my family.
You remember that too, don't you?
That the giant oak where we kiss at night is a family member.
And the stones that guard the path.
They are your grandmother, your grandfather.
The moss is your second cousin.
We are all family here.
Part of the mending is the ritual of mourning.
It did not have to be this way.
It did not have to be this way.
But it is.
The hardest part about this isn't the forgetting though.
The hardest part is the silencing within ourselves,
when the oppression has been internalized
and we think it is our own and it is not,
then it is a time for stories to become legends by choice.
Our legend is not one of burning.
Our legend is the one of knowing.
Women's ways of knowing are coded in our stardust bones
and can never be forgotten or taken from us.
Our unruined hearts have kept the stories alive inside.
So we shall gather, won't we, my sisters?
The drum has sounded at the golden hour.
The teas are spiced.
And the times for dancing in the vineyards has come again.
And oh, do we have stories to tell?!
Did you hear the call beneath the open window of your life?
The one you kept open just in case?
I promised I would come and remind you.
You are enough. You just know things.
You knew you were carrying medicine.
They knew too and they quieted you.
But now we come and wake you up
and tell you it is time to gather!
Our toes are tapping, our tongues are wagging,
and our hips are swaying to the music inside.
I shed my old name. I welcome my new name.
I cannot speak my true name out loud for now.
For now, it is enough to remember alongside your remembrance.
I have swallowed the sweetness of my name.
Matriarchal honey is in my throat.
When I talk to you, I speak through it.
When I see you, I see through it.
The poet tells us, light pours from the wounds.
The painters show the way forward,
brushing love through every cell of hurt.
Brushing love through every cell of hurt.
Lighting the alchemical fire of transformation.
Welcoming new life.
Everywhere is new life because of you.
This goodness, it is all because of you.
Because I love you. Because you love me.
Because I remember you. And you remember me.
I am remembering who I am.
I am remembering who you are.
We are remembering who we are.
I came for you. I brought you a brush and a pen.
Access to an image and a story and a remembrance of wings.
This is higher love. This is the higher love we've been looking for.
Listen. Listen. Listen. Listen. I listen.
You pray. You paint. You know things.
You see. You dream. You speak with stones.
You drum. You dance. You join the council.
All of this goodness, it is all because of you.
Shiloh Sophia
Dedicated to LEGEND 2025
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