The High Priestess: Inzunza Spirit


 Oh the mystical being

a very mystical being

and I feel it pulling me

intriguing me

the way hidden currents tug beneath the surface.

I have read so many accounts

so many articles

but none of them touch what stirs in my spirit

none of them reach the place where my intuition whispers.


I ask myself

what is she

is she mermaid

is she horse

is she serpent

is she something that exists beyond every myth we have tried to pin to her.

People say she shapeshifts

and I understand why

because a being like this refuses limitation

a being like this can become anything

anytime

because creation itself breathes through her.


The more I describe her

the more I realise she belongs to the water

because she is not separate from it

she is the water

peaceful and dangerous

vast and mysterious

and every word I speak of her tastes like salt and storm.

I am describing the ocean

and I am describing her

and perhaps I am also describing the part of myself that still sleeps beneath the surface.


People write about her in shallow ways

surface level words

easy descriptions

and none of them convince me

not because they lie

but because they do not dive.

To know her

you must wander into the depths

you must allow yourself to be pulled inward

into the silent territory where truth waits.


She hides her face

not because she fears

not because she doubts herself

but because she waits for a soul who can meet her where she is.

I cannot claim to know the ocean

by swimming at the top

so how can I claim to know her

without entering the uncharted waters within myself.


This spirit feels heavenly

and if she is of the heavens

then I know I must rise to reach her

or fall into the sacred depths where heaven meets water.

She reveals only her body

and even that feels like a revelation

as if each curve contains an ancient scripture written in fluid light.


At first I called her it

but the more I reach for her

the more I feel a feminine force

an energy that creates

awakens

remembers.

Part of me wonders if she is connected to Lilith

the dark feminine

the untamed one

the woman who walks in shadows without fear.

Maybe Lilith is only one side of her

maybe every goddess contains a dawn and a dusk

a creation and a destruction

a face and a hidden face.


Trying to understand her is exciting and exhausting

I feel my mind racing

my spirit stirring

as if something ancient is responding to my curiosity.

I do not fear it

I welcome it

even when it overwhelms me.


I sense she may be tied to the kundalini

the serpent of awakening

the sacred coil of feminine fire.

People once called this spirit serpent

and it makes sense

because serpents transform

shed

renew

and so does she.


She shifts because she can

because she knows no boundaries

because she refuses to be reduced by human language.

She is aware of her magnitude

her consciousness expands beyond the ideas we cling to

and she can reshape reality the way the tide reshapes the shore.


You cannot approach her without intention.

You cannot enter her waters with low energy

for she will confront you

strip away illusions

push you to a place where return feels impossible.

Her presence is intimidating

only to those who fear themselves

only to those who refuse to look within.


She is powerful

nurturing

brutal

tender

and unafraid to destroy whatever betrays its own truth.

She heals

but she also demands transformation.


The more I channel her

the more I feel she is the high priestess hidden in the waters

the one the universe gifted us

the one who teaches that emotion and intuition are sacred.

To separate her from the water is to misunderstand her entirely

she is the tide

the memory

the dream

the silence

the storm.


She is the feminine that births and buries

creates and collapses

loves and consumes.


And as I reach for her

I feel her reach for me

not fully

not with her face revealed

but with the energy of a goddess waiting

watching

testing the depth of my intention.


This is the Inzunza spirit

and I am only beginning to understand her

one breath

one vision

one wave at a time.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The pattern isn't the problem. Lack of awareness is

Image
Today I found myself deep in thought again. To be honest, I usually am. My mind tends to wander into questions most people pass by without noticing. Something pulled me toward the The Emerald Tablets of Thoth the Atlantean, specifically the chapter about the Key of Time . It speaks about time not as a straight line, but as something circular. Cycles. Loops. Patterns that repeat themselves until something changes. That idea stayed with me long after I finished reading. Because when you look closely at life, it starts to feel true. Our past has a strange way of shaping our future. Childhood experiences, the things we witness growing up, the wounds we carry without even realizing it. They settle somewhere deep within us and quietly influence the decisions we make later on. You often hear people say, “I will never repeat the mistakes my parents made.” On the surface, that sounds like a powerful promise. A vow to do better. A vow to be different. But sometimes that vow becomes something h...
Read more

A Prayer for the Hell I Know

Image
  Lord I miss home. Not because it was gentle not because it was kind but because it was familiar. I hated it there. I hated the walls the voices the way pain learned my name. And yet compared to where I stand now it feels like shelter. I thought this place would save me. I thought safety lived here that peace wore this address. But saints can be cruel Lord crueler than demons who admit what they are. They smile with Scripture on their lips hands lifted in worship eyes closed to the wreckage they cause. They never look in the mirror. They hide behind the Bible behind church doors behind the illusion of holiness. So here I am praying words I never thought I would dare to say. Send me back. Back to the hell I know. Back to the demons whose faces I recognize. I would rather bleed where I understand the wounds than suffocate among those who call themselves pure while sharpening their knives in secret. I hate that I want this. I hate that I have no choice. I hate that endurance has beco...
Read more

Letting Go is Hard, But It Needs to Happen.

Image
  Letting go sounds simple when you say it out loud. But the truth is, it’s one of the hardest things the heart ever has to learn. Sometimes it’s not the leaving that hurts the most — it’s what rises to the surface when someone returns. Recently, a person who once meant the world to me came back. Our story never ended with a dramatic goodbye. No fight. No explanation. Just silence — the kind that echoes in the spaces where words should have lived. We were close once. The kind of close where conversations flowed without effort and laughter came easy. Beneath the friendship lived something neither of us expected — a soft, unspoken love that surprised us both. And just as quickly as it appeared, he pulled away. The distance wasn’t just physical; it unraveled something inside me. His silence awakened parts of myself I didn’t know were fragile. Insecurity. Obsession. The fear of not being enough. I became desperate for crumbs of attention, and somewhere along the way, I began losing mys...
Read more