Individuation: A Wild & Feral Unfurling
Soul-work is elemental and ritualistic, and the wild is never far behind.
Individuation is a primal poetic expression of the soul
Individuation is a holy homecoming, a spiral-path through bone and blood back to the untamed soul-self who was never lost, only hidden and scattered about in pieces. It is not about becoming someone shinier, more successful, more spiritually palatable.
No, this is the witch’s work of remembering. The wise woman’s trust in her invisible knowing.
This is the work of digging our fingers into the loam of our own becoming and dragging up what we’ve hidden—grief-cloaked dreams, unspoken truths, rage that bites, joy that howls.
This journey begins the moment the ego cracks open like a shell, weary of pretending, tired of masking the raw pulse of soul beneath social skin.
We stop performing and start listening. And not the kind of listening that happens with ears, but the kind that listens with skin, with womb, with marrow.
We hear the whispers of dream, of scar, of archetype.
The shadow slinks in, hungry to be fed—not denied. The forgotten goddesses of our own inner pantheon rise from our bones and psyches, demanding recognition.
This work is not for the faint or the polite. It is not linear, it is not clean. It is the chaos of real healing, where the medicine is found in the mess. The psyche does not ascend like a saint; she descends like a formidable and feral force.
She roots. She writhes. She remembers.
