Cosmic Channel of the Week

Jan Finley Channel of the Week Leave a Comment

Long before He rose from the dead, the stories of many other gods rising from the dead were told.  Even before their stories were told, my Love shone abundantly on this earth. From the well of my Love, this Earth was born, as were you.
Greed has driven man’s hunger for power and his egocentric desire to see himself as god.  As with any rebellious child, I hoped this hard lesson would bring wisdom, but it did not. Greed begat greater greed; hunger begat insatiable hunger.  In his desire to be lord of all, he began to systematically destroy my precious creation.  I have been debased, cast aside and denied.  Along the way, he forgot that his place is at my side.
No longer shall I stand by and allow this travesty to continue. There can be no God without the Divine Feminine. I walk the Earth once again in all my Wholeness and Glory, now and forever more. 
I am the Womb of Life. Hallelujah. I am risen indeed.
Still I Rise 

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise I rise

I rise.

***This guidance column was written by Jan Finley for It may be shared freely, but only when the author’s name and website are included.


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