the first life. somewhere in the former soviet union. daughter to a cossack warrior. mother died at birth. moved to st petersburg and learned the city.
the second life. germany. a boy. an aryan specimen. father was a treecutter in the black forest. mother was an.herbalist. everyone apolitical and thus good-natured.
third life. unknown. ended in miscarriage. time in womb was rough, as mom was falling victim to the machinations of a cruel and heartless world. stress levels caused an chemical imbalance which turned deadly.
fourth life. Paris. daughter to a Huguenot. the dove hangs from the symbol. this is how i remember. a good life. parents artisans. life steeped in loving wonder.
around this time, my creative energies, once dormant and passed over for to meet the great thirst of survival, were planted. seeded for future manifestation.
many lives later the blossoming of creativity encompassed my being, and strengthened and fortified an otherwise tenuous grip on life and sanity. a portal opened up to a great and spacious flowering, imbued with fine tuned intuitions and novel purpose.
in this world now, the magic has culminated. rooted in compassion. ancestral stories to be told. shared to help turn the darkness to light, everlasting.