Hello Beloved, beloved, beloved Godseye Web!
Friday morning, I woke up bleeding and am still bleeding heavily now.
A lot of blood. More than I've bled in months.
I haven't bled since November. My body doesn't follow a schedule anymore—I'm somewhere in the mystery of perimenopause, menopause, I don't really know which.
But I do know this: my body speaks a language older than words.
When something needs to be released, my womb knows. My sacral chakra knows. This place where I came from in my mother's body, where I'm connected to my ancestral line—she knows it's time to shed.
And I love it. All of it.
The tenderness. The cramps. The bloating. The sacred release.
I don't know how many more times I'll get to bleed. I don't know when the last time will be.
So I'm here, in awe of my body's attunement to the natural rhythms of life.
Here we are, nearing the end of the Year of the Snake—this time of shedding, shedding, shedding.
And I get to physically shed.
My body is literally releasing the lining of my uterus. Letting go of stagnant energies and what's no longer mine or useful for me. Making space for what wants to come in.
Just like the Snake sheds her skin.
It's never not profound to me, this connection. My body, my life, the Earth and the cosmos moving together, speaking the same language of release.
This has been an enormously transformative year. A very challenging year.
This week, I ended a romantic relationship.
I saw what wasn't aligned with my prayer, and I let it go swiftly.
And what strikes me most is how different I am now. How much I've changed. I am a completely different person.
I can cut through to the truth with such ease and efficiency. I don't have the time or energy to waste on what's not for me.
In the not so distant past- I may have drawn it out, tried to make it work. I might have convinced myself that if I just gave more, tried harder, made myself smaller... I might be torturing myself and my poor sisters with weeks and months of long voice memo's on the subject trying to "figure" it out. Ugh! What a relief to have absolutely no interest in that. It's so clear. And it could only have been made clear by what I have learned through the portal of heartbreaks that I have walked through in the past. many years. It's all such a profound healing and it took the time it took and it was all perfect. Every prayer was answered and not a drop of medicine was wasted.
I see so clearly now. No dragging it out. No second-guessing. No abandoning myself.
Just tell the truth. That's all there is to do.
And once again I find myself in the fertile emptiness of space and time for ME and what is FOR me. Reclaiming my creative life force energy for myself, for my prayer, for what's actually mine.
We're still in the Snake year until February 17th—Lunar New Year, when we shift into the Year of the Fire Horse.
I feel so connected to what's coming. I feel it coming for me. I was born in the year of the Earth Horse. And I can feel the heat of this Fire Horse energy. This powerful forward momentum. This wild courage. This unwavering trust and the mirror of truth. The care and container and connection of the herd. The taking accountability of what we, as humans, have used and abused. To bring back in to balance what has been manipulated and mutilated by the patriarchy, by capitalism, by white supremacy.
Can you feel the rumble of their hooves on the Earth? In your root? In your womb? In your gut? In your heart? In your throat? In your mind? In your prayers? Shaking and crumbling the foundations of anything that is not rooted in truth and love?
I feel it.
I welcome it's arrival when it's time.
But I'm not rushing toward it.
I am still coiled up underground, honoring this moment. This shedding. This winter stillness. This deep rest and renewal.
Even when the world around me feels chaotic and disconnected. I'm holding true to this sacred slowness. I am recommitting to my mindfulness practice with my teacher Adam Moscowitz. I am asking for guidance to deepen into a Tantric practice. I have a prayer to feel ALL of my life. To not miss a thing. To have the courage to just sit in the mystery. The not-knowing. The fertile dark.
Almost seven years ago, I got sober.
May 19th, 2019. The day everything changed.
That was the real beginning of my prayer to tell the truth, no matter what. To see things as they are. To be in reality on realities terms.
I come from a long ancestral line of addicts (the BEST people are addicts)—both sides of my family. Many of them drank themselves to death.
And I made a prayer one night under the stars in my bathtub to break that chain.
I chose truth. I chose awareness. I chose to wake up.
And that choice set everything else in motion—the end of my engagement to the father of my son, the beginning of single motherhood, a deeper commitment and belief in Godseye, hearing the call to build our altar in the center of my house for people from ALL over to gather and pray. To make that altar the center of my entire life.
I'm coming up on my 7-year sobriety birthday in May 2026. Seven years. A full cycle.
And I can feel it—the initiation, the threshold of something new.
After our Winter Solstice ceremony, I did the 13 Sacred Nights ritual alongside my son, Sonny and many of you in the Godseye web.
I wrote 13 wishes on 13 pieces of paper, folded them, placed them in a bowl. And every night from December 21st through January 1st, I burned one wish. Unopened. Surrendering it to the universe.
On January 2nd—the 13th night—I opened the final slip of paper.
And I picked the ONE wish that I had hoped would have been burned. I tried to toss those wishes around in a way that would insure the best chance that I would burn THIS ONE WISH! It was the ONE I didn't want to be responsible for this year. It was the one I really wanted the universe to take total care of. But that's not what the universe had for me...
My 13th wish was this:
My prayer of my big love. A deep devotional love for me and my son that offers freedom, liberation and protection. A love that is rooted in truth and trust and respect and honors my feminine wisdom and brings divine masculine presence. A love that brings ease and pleasure and joy and growth and expansion and inspiration and creativity...
At first, I thought: THIS is my focus for the year? My responsibility? I can't do anything about this. This is out of my control. What is mine to do here? I don't chase. I don't do dating apps anymore. I am the spider who builds her beautiful web and waits...
But then I realized: I know exactly what there is for me to do.
My job this year (and forever) is to be my own big love and to recognize what's NOT aligned with that prayer and let it go the second I notice. And I trust the universe is absolutely holding this prayer for my person with me and the love I am praying in will be so obvious and so clear.
This is what the 13th prayer is supporting me in this year.
This is what happens when you refuse to waste your precious life force energy on what's not actually yours.
I'm also in the mystery of what's next with Godseye.
Something is changing. Transforming. In the ways I show up to this work, to this prayer.
And I feel excited about it. Trusting the mystery. Responding to the collective.
But I also feel terrified. Scared. Like I'm losing an identity.
Godseye has been my life, my heart, my everything for so long. And there's so much hope and possibility in this new becoming.
But I don't know what it looks like yet.
I feel the pull toward collaboration. Connection. Circles of women. So much more service. So much more generosity of myself. So much more dance, music, art, creativity, learning, teaching, counseling, ceremony, ritual, humor...
I've been stuck in the doing—I'm the everything of this business. And it's not sustainable. It's not healthy.
I'm so much more. I have so much more to offer.
And I'm praying for the shedding of whatever is in the way of me birthing this new self.
Something else is going to come forward. Something attuned and aligned with my prayer, with my nature. Something easy and joyful and sustainable.
I will be fully financially supported and resourced. My work will support of my health and wellness. and will be a clear and generous offering to the world, to people in a similar prayer.
I don't know what it is yet. But I'm trusting it. Even when I'm scared. I trust everything.
And the most sacred layer to this potent time...today is my mother's birthday.
January 12th. She would have been 78.
She was a Capricorn too. She was brilliant, a powerhouse of organization and beauty-making.
She took her own life on October 2nd, 2011.
And here I am, in Capricorn season, bleeding and releasing and honoring the life she gave me. The beauty and the pain. All of it.
I have a big prayer to feel connected to my mothers soul. This is in honor of my mothers life and in honor of that prayer...
A LETTER TO MY MOTHER
Today is your birthday. January 12th, 1948. Year of the Rat.
I'm 47 now. Bleeding. Shedding. Sitting in the mystery of what comes next.
And I want to honor you.
I think about you so much this time of year. Starting around Solstice time. So much on December 27th, my (our) birth-day. So much on the days leading up to your birthday. And of course on the day. January 12. The day you were born.
I have specifically been remembering the way you ran your fingers through my hair. No one can do it the way you do. About the way your skin smelled. About your genius for organization and your beauty-way—the gardens you tended, the homes you created, the powerful men whose lives you organized with such flawless precision.
I feel such a deeper understanding and knowing and appreciation of you.
Not just as your daughter—but as a woman. A single mother. Someone who knows what it's like to carry too much, to feel overwhelmed, to wonder if you're enough, to go through divorce and relationships ending, to long for love and partnership that is devotional and liberating, to deeply desire to be seen and known and protected and feel met and received by your big love, your person. To have a close healthy and trusting relationship with your children.
I know you carried so much.
Your angry, abusive mother. Your sexually abusive father. All that trauma locked so tightly inside you, never feeling safe enough to be seen, to be vulnerable.
I understand now how hard it is to mother when you're wounded. How overwhelming it is to show up for a child when you're barely surviving yourself.
And I also understand—in a way I couldn't when you were alive—that you did the best you could with what you had.
You carried me in your womb. You held me. You fed me from your body. You stroked my hair. You tended to me when I was sick. You clothed me, loved me, fed me.
You exposed me to so much beauty. And yes, also so much pain.
And all of it—all of it—has fed the work I get to do in the world. It has given me the material I need to love myself completely.
So thank you. Thank you for your life. Thank you for your beauty. Thank you for everything you gave me, even the hard parts.
I honor you with deep gratitude.
And I want to acknowledge the way you made sure I would be taken care of when you decided to go.
Something I believe—I know—is a contract you made before you left.
My sister, Erika.
She was born October 2nd, 1972. Year of the Rat. Just like you.
October 2nd. The same day you took your life in 2011.
Your death day is her birthday.
And even though she never got to meet you—even though she's been my sister since before you passed away—I know you two made an agreement. A sacred contract.
Because Erika has held me in the unconditional mother-love that I wasn't able to fully recognize or experience while you were alive.
All the complexities of our relationship, all the traumas you endured that made it so hard for you to be emotionally present—Erika has held space for all of that.
And she has loved me with the unwavering, unconditional love that a mother gives.
She is my soulmate. My sister. And yes—the embodiment of mother-love in my life.
Every single thing I do and say, she sees as brilliant. She cheers me on. She believes in me with a certainty that I believe too. It's not just a thing she says—it's true. She means it. She sees me so clearly. And she loves me without condition.
This is the incredible gift from you. From the universe. From God. From everything that wishes me well.
Erika's life. The way she loves me.
This is the agreement you made. To make sure I was loved. To make sure I had the mother-love I needed, even if it couldn't come directly from you while you were here.
And I receive it. I receive your love through her and many of my beloved sisters.
I choose to believe and know and see and recognize your unconditional love for me—whether you were able to show it fully in this lifetime or not.
I receive it now.
And I want more.
I want deeper connection with you. Deeper communication with your spirit, your soul.
I want to shed any last bits of resentment or blame that might be standing in the way. I haven't felt those things in such a long time, but if there's anything left—any energetic thread that's blocking the channel between us—I release it now.
I want to know you more.
I want to know more about our witchy Welsh matriarchal bloodline. I want to know where I came from through you.
I open myself up more to the infinite connectedness of everything. To the energies and information that are right there, all the time, if I just soften and allow them in.
My prayer is to allow more of you into my heart, my being, my knowing, my channel.
To honor more of you. To be more of the parts of you that I am—the parts that are so beautiful, such a gift.
Thank you for your beauty. Your eye for making everything better. Your ability to rearrange and reorganize and be so resourceful.
Thank you for your independence and power. For being a single mom, making your way, for your financial resourcefulness, for doing all of that by yourself.
I know you didn't have the support you actually needed. You lived in a time when nobody really knew how to talk about a lot of the mental illness your struggled with.
But now we're in a time when we do. Now we're in a time when so many people see more clearly.
And now here I am.
Running a business all by myself in a way that is not natural for humans.
I need help and support.
And I'm calling in your spirit, your soul, to come and help me.
Send me the visions. Speak to me through scent and the plants and in my dreams. Help me feel connected to my roots and my feminine power and wisdom. Help me see this prayer through and for you.
Send me the helpers. The beings here on Earth who want to be part of the Godseye prayer with me. Who want to help me be a person on this planet that is in service to love.
I want to heal this for our line too. The pattern of doing it all alone. The belief that we have to carry everything by ourselves.
I'm choosing collaboration. Togetherness. Connection. Support. Reciprocity.
And I'm asking you to help me from where you are.
Be with me always. Help me to feel you with me always.
Happy birthday, Mom.
I love you. I miss you.
Thank you for carrying me. Thank you for birthing me. Thank you for loving me the best way you knew how.
Thank you for Erika—for the sacred contract you made with her soul to hold me in mother-love.
Thank you for the beauty you showed me. Thank you for the pain that taught me compassion.
Thank you for your death, which was one of the greatest healings of my life.
I dance between worlds with you today—grief and gratitude, rage and love, the healing and the hurting.
You are missed. You are loved. You are understood.
And I will keep doing the work you couldn't do. I will keep breaking the chains. I will keep telling the truth. I will keep loving myself. I will keep letting go of what's not mine.
And I will do it with you and for you—your hands in my hair, your voice in my heart, your spirit whispering in my ear when I am quiet and still enough to listen.
With all my love, forever and always,
Natalie
To everyone reading this: Thank you for witnessing. Thank you for holding space for my grief, my healing, my becoming. We are all connected in this web of loss and love and transformation. May we all receive the mother-love we need—in whatever form it arrives.
Mitakuye Oyasin. All my relations.