embodied wisdom in a disembodied world
For years, I didn’t allow myself the chance to explore different texts, traditions, or ways of thinking. Not because I was forbidden, but because critical thinking felt like betrayal—like I was abandoning the only belief system that had once offered me comfort and “salvation.” As I read The Great Cosmic Mother by Monica Sjöö and Barbara Mor, I approached the literature with a tender heart and an open mind. My early life and way of being were shaped by Christianity, not in a way that was forceful or dogmatic but in a way that I now recognize, subtly resonated with the patriarchal, survival-based frameworks I’d internalized.
I arrived at page 16 and paused.
Not because the words were shocking, but because they rang true in my bones. They gave language to something I’ve felt for years, something I’d lived intuitively but never fully named. Sjöö and Mor spoke of matriarchal life as embodiment, and of patriarchy not only as a gendered system of oppression, but as a paradigm of fragmentation.
“…the essence of the original matriarchies: the experienced unity of psychic/productive/sexual/cosmic power and activity in the egalitarian collective of women. For this is what patriarchy sets out to do: to split material productive from spiritual experience, science from magic, medicine from herbal knowledge and psychic seasonal environment, sexuality from sacred, art from craft, astromony from astrology, language from poetry — and to place the resultant ‘specialized,’ abstracted, and mechanistic knowledge in the hands of a privilaged male elite organized into professions, hierarchies, and classes. To reduce the ecstatic dance of muscle, blood, and soul to factory assembly lines, production output schedules, and gross national product.”
—Monica Sjöö & Barbara Mor, The Great Cosmic Mother
Just like that, I understood: patriarchy doesn’t just divide people from each other, it fractures us from ourselves. It severs the sacred thread that connects our intuition to our bodies, our bodies to the earth, and the earth to the divine. In this fragmentation, we are told to trust systems over spirit, logic over knowing, hustle over flow/alignment. Wellness has become a trend to consume rather than a rhythm to embody. Spirituality is stripped of its mystery and rebranded into sterile productivity, while women’s ancient wisdom—rooted in blood, moon, and memory—is dismissed as irrational or demonized as “witchcraft” and dishonored. Even the very structure of our cities mirrors this disconnection: built for speed, not presence; isolation, not community. And in a world designed to pull us out of ourselves, those who are more spiritually and intuitively inclined often find themselves dissociating, forced into survival mode in a system that never felt like home. This isn’t just social, it’s soul-deep. And remembering ourselves is the first act of resistance.
My journey back to embodiment wasn’t found in a textbook or a classroom; it unfolded in the sacred spaces where my soul could breathe. It came through music that moved through me like memory, through writing that revealed truths my mouth was never taught to speak. It came in the quiet rhythm of walks, in the pulse of my womb’s wisdom, and in the subtle downloads of multidimensional remembrance that arrived when I stopped striving to be understood. Embodiment didn’t meet me in performance or perfection; it met me in surrender. In slowness. In stillness. In the decision to live fully within myself, not for the gaze of the world, but for the reverence of my being. This is where I found my way back to wholeness: where I remembered that I am both vessel and voice, form and spirit, woman and wave.
This remembrance is not isolated: it is a collective rising, a quiet yet powerful pulse moving through humanity. Many are feeling the ache for integration: a longing to no longer fragment themselves to fit into systems that were never built for their fullness. There is a deep, embodied sensing that the old binaries: spiritual vs. academic, intellect vs. intuition, sacred vs. secular, are collapsing under their own weight. In their place, a reclamation is unfolding. We are reactivating matriarchal consciousness, not as hierarchy but as holistic design. Interdisciplinary studies are being rewoven into sacred frameworks, where research becomes ritual, and theory becomes a living, breathing practice. Our bodies, once sites of suppression, are now portals of return, resisting disembodiment by remembering their divinity. This is not innovation; it is initiation. We are not inventing something new. We are remembering something ancient. And through this remembrance, we are returning home, not as fragments, but as whole, radiant beings aligned with the rhythm of creation itself.
