Earthling dysmorphia

☾ the exposé of your blemishes

The definition of blemish is as follows:

1. A small mark that makes the appearance of something less attractive.

2. An imperfection that mars or impairs; a flaw.

3. A defect, flaw, or imperfection; something that mars beauty, completeness, or perfection

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In essence, we have deliberately crafted language around our learnings, growths, and spiritual tumors in the name of incompleteness.

Something that perpetuates lack.

It is lack at the root of something not feeling complete, holy, or worthy….dare I say….good enough.

I have had body dysmorphia since I was a child.

It has been a catalyst for me to support others and create fanciful meaning for the body you reside in because it can be difficult to live in my own.

I can easily come to the mirror that is me subconsciously supporting myself through others.

I see the reflection ancestrally.

I see the duplicate emotionally.

I can touch the parallel with my own two hands.

Often, we create missionaries through our work.

The work, the craft, the modality, etc. becomes the anchor for ourselves.

There is no selfishness in this projection, only communion for all parties.

There is always a subconscious resonance between you & who you choose to work with.

Always.

The divination that is your co-collaborations with others (especially those in healing & well-being) is the pond for us all.

My work begs me to look into the water.

Your work solicits you to do the same.

The disorder that is dysmorphia is all that needs to be said.

The order is out of order.

The symphony of the internal sequence is no longer attuned.

You help me sing my chords.

I assist you in choreographing the show.

It’s a play, the thing we do for each other.

The thing we do when thinking the practitioner is the expert and not the one healing too.

The sigh enters the system when we realize that the therapy of this existence is never done in isolation.

It is you & I through and through.

welcome to the world of reading books from a manifesting generator !!

I was re-reading Evolutionary Herbalism: Science, Spirituality, and Medicine from the Heart of Nature the other night as the plant kingdom always anchors me into the truth of our living, breathing holograms.

If you are at all enthralled with the tonic that is learning about our natural world (no need to be an herbalist or want to be one) this is the only book I recommend. I found Sajah Popham on youtube years ago and became invigorated by his teachings.

In fact, this book has helped me more than most self-help department reads on the shelf.

I come back to nature for my own human issues.

I come back to nature for business.

I come back to nature for relationships.

It’s the heart space of Gaia that reminds me of my own.

“Man is a microcosm, or a little world, because he is an extract from all the stars and planets of the whole firmament, from the earth and the elements; and so he is their quintessence” - Paracelsus

I may be made of fire & water, but I too need your wood & wind.

The energetic architecture of your walls (both literal and figurative) shows us where the invisible lies.

There is more power in your wounds than in your cures.

There is more medicine in your admittance than in your denial.

There is homeopathy in your truth.

Please don’t dilute your pain even if it’s just a band-aid away.

This inner landscape of suppression has taken me on many travels.

My flights have been delayed in the name of leaving my soul astray.

My first memory of critiquing my body was at age 8.

It has created spirals & cosmic winds within gusts of hate.

Alas, this incoherence with my own blueprint has left me thinking that the foundation will never be straight.

The comparison wheel of forgetting that my signature (sign & nature) is not one of copy and paste.

I had this really funny thing happen with my boobs over the last couple of years that cycles me back into giving myself more space.

I remember that one of my elementary friends (the kind you don’t really like, but somehow your youth development is dependent on their values & opinions of you to survive in the wild wild west of childhood) started wearing a bra in the 5th grade.

I don’t even know how old we were back then and I’m not gonna even try to calculate.

But she made it apparent that 5th grade was the time to grow and if you’re not growing, well, you’re not growing.

This was the beginning of me creating a forcefield around my flat chest.

IN 5TH GRADE.

The imprints go way back.

Ever since then, that’s all I saw.

Boobs.

Bigger boobs.

And bigger bigger boobs than the itty committee of my own.

I finally stopped caring about the self-conflicted misery of having a 32 A-cup back in 2020 when I was just inside doing my thing anyways.

I embraced that I had 20+ years of co-mingling with non-acceptance.

This non-acceptance created by my own accord was indeed my own suffering.

I created my own pain.

So my circumstance created more pain around the pain to go deeper into said pain.

Because that’s what this life, this body, this soul contract asks.

My boobs grew in at age 28 ladies & gents.

28.

I’m a full B (lol) and I didn’t do shit.

One thing I did do is remove.

It was a cleaning crew of my own emotional & mental clutter around my chest that became the lymph flow.

The cellular debris was me.

I can not blame anyone else for this toxicity.

I stopped my boobs from growing in 5th grade due to someone else’s say.

Perhaps my body is asking me to look in other ways.

I still fall and maybe I’ll fall again in the future, but my God, this Venus energy sweeping us all is making me reflect again and again.

Where is the dysmorphia in our finances?

Where is the dysmorphia in our pleasure?

Where is the dysmorphia in our visions?

Earthling dysmorphia is a condition that goes beyond the body.

It is all subtle bodies, the ones you can and can not see.

Giving you and me a warm embrace on the roar of Lion’s Gate 2023.

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xo

Sierra

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