A Dedication

It hit me while I was in “car-line” to pick up my son after school.

The ugly cry.

Just then, one of my close friends, whose daughter also goes to the school, walked by.  Before she could see me, I slumped my soaked, purple face low in my seat so I wouldn’t have to explain myself.

How could I explain this?

It hit like what I’ve come to call Astara, a sudden and uncontrollable flood of Knowing.  I did not yet have human words to understand, let alone describe what I’d just received…

*

Let me back up.

*

On Christmas Day in 2015, almost two years before this writing, my housemate took a gun to her head with her baby in her arms and pulled the trigger.

They were found the next day by a couple strolling the woods.  

The baby girl, just three years old, but with the mind of a five-year-old, stayed on her Mama’s cold body the whole night, and when she saw the couple approaching that next morning, she quickly alerted them to the car that held her 5-month-old baby brother.

*

Early Christmas morning, I heard sobs outside of my door in our shared hallway.

It was Sasha.

It was Christmas.

My parents were on their way and I was scrambling in a frantic fervor to prepare.

I had become accustomed to hearing her cry and I decided I would finish what I was doing and bring her holiday gift over in a bit to see what’s up.

When we went to deliver the gift, the last photos I’d snapped of her…she was already gone.

*

On a personal level, this was the crescendo to my Rupture Year.  It was the final detonation that blew me out.

To this day, I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that her finger actually pulled the trigger…and that she wanted that to happen.  And there was a time when I just couldn’t get over the dissonance of it–the sheer nonsensical-ness of it, especially the involvement of the children, to the point that function outside of the “flashbacks” felt impossible…

I developed PTSD and was off of work for three months, but was sick for much longer.  I struggled to care for my son alone, with my predominant support living 2,000 miles away and my father having passed just two months prior.  

I now realize that what we often call PTSD is just a heightened sensitivity of perception.  I have not only learned to heal from the dysfunction of it, but to wield it as a superpower!  It enhances my magic by attuning me to my sensory experience, and the journey through the dysfunction of it helps me to understand the countless others who develop PTSD or other trauma disorders, like Sasha…

*

I am now, safely, in a place that feels like “full circle.”

And this brings me back to that ugly cry, sunken in my car in the pick-up line after school.

In all my moments of clarity, of lucidity, what drove me through the debilitation of it all was knowing that I would find a way to help Sasha, in all her many forms, as the women who reached out in droves after her death…in mourning, in shock, in fear, and with too many of their own stories of the postpartum psychosis that lead to Sasha’s death…and especially…all of those who never reach out at all…

In desperation I cried out for a Way, and the echo of my conviction has since reverberated through my skull and synchronistically paved a path for me to create this portal of healing, this path of Service…through Laughing Goddess.

That ugly cry in the car that day is because I realized that she, Laughing Goddess, is a creation of mine and Sasha’s together…

I feel a part of her consciousness working through me, perhaps, endowing me with the understanding to support Women, Mothers–human beings–by having seen through her eyes.  

…and in seeing how deeply we all suffer the loss of the Mother, the empowered Wild Woman who knows her magic and wields it wisely and in alignment with Life, like the fierce Mama Bear we all sometimes have to be for our babies…and for our selves…

Sasha had this fierceness in her.  It came out here, startlingly, while I stood behind a camera one day…

But that is not how she walked the world…and the pain of that prison, I believe, is what killed her.

I have since forgiven myself for missing my window of opportunity to “save” her on that particular day.  I was living my own Rupture, barely surviving myself, hardly able to help her beautiful soul…though I certainly tried…  This conviction and this business come not from guilt, but from devotion to All the Sashas, and to the humans that need us–the Women and the Mothers–to be well and strong and bloody and broken anew and cleansed and supported and fed…so we can do our Work here on this planet.

That’s all Sasha wanted…

The Restoration of Woman as a biofeedback mechanism of Gaia, and of humanity, will “save” the planet and the life on it.

I have made this my Life’s Work, largely for Sasha’s nudging and paving, guiding me like the hawk leads the explorer through terrain far more vast than our tiny minds could fathom, much less See…

As my way of reciprocating the generosity of the force that lived on Earth as Sasha Naomi, a percentage of profits generated by Laughing Goddess will go to create a scholarship to help women attend INNATE Postpartum Care–Certification Training.  Take a look at how this family is “healing humankind by tending through the postpartum period” based on a “holistic system of care, based on women’s physiologic design.”  (Direct donation button coming soon.)  For now, visit the main site here to discover why I feel so passionate about supporting this Work.  As of this writing, I have just booked my flight to complete the training in Brooklyn, New York!

Folks, this is the stuffs of taking back our planet…

May we have the strength of perspective to respond and not react to the tragedies of life.  <3

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