There’s this place within us where chaos desperately searches for silence.

Where trauma is recognized on a preverbal level, having occurred transgenerationally.

Where cellular memory works tirelessly to integrate parallel realities and collective wounds.

Where the narratives of our ancestors dwell in our cerebrospinal fluid pulsing to the rhythms of every experience they have ever shared with us.

Where identity and integration become pathways for the validation of thoughts and emotions

We were never allowed to honor.

Not everything is projection.

Perhaps what we call projection is simply a need to feel safe.

An undeniable yearning for the acknowledgement that feeling safe Is a human and spiritual right

Afforded to us as we pass from the womb onto this sacred earth

Carrying our stories in our hearts not to be told through someone else’s experience,

But to be spoken when we do feel safe enough that even the silence can be heard rejoicing.