Moyana Gebhardt
Bio
Artist of life, oracle and friend to the spirits, Beloved, thinker, feeler, misfit, seeker of truth. Self published author. Neurodivergent. Mother of 4. At a crossroads. Anima mundi:: linktr.ee/moyana
Stories (28/0)
The Traveler and the Dragons
And when The Traveler reached the water's edge at the destined time, she spoke to her mother the old words. They became a song and The Traveler found that her voice had changed. That somehow being so near her mother had caused the cells to lock into place after walking through a world of almost and not quite right. The song was one that came out on its own with no trying. It bubbled up from somewhere deep in her body, and she remembered dreaming this music many times during her earth life. The notes increased in frequency and she could feel roots digging into the sand beneath her, securing her body into the earth. The air around her began to shimmer. She kept singing the old song and it was almost like someone else was singing through her; twisting her mouth and vocal chords, in ways they had never moved before.
By Moyana Gebhardt9 months ago in Fiction
The Traveler & the Ocean
What if there was a Traveler. Imagine it: a creature from Someplace Else who carried a very ancient seed with her from a Time on earth when things were very different than they are now. Back then, many creatures lived together in balance with the earth. As the stories go, A Great Imbalance occurred due to the shadow hearts gaining too much power. A group of creatures were chosen by the Oracle Seers, who knew that someday there would be a chance when all the planets aligned, to bring the seeds back to Earth to sprout once again. Very likely, you’ve heard similar stories or maybe never. It’s usually spoken of by people this world never takes very seriously, but sometimes people fall into a waking sleep and sleepwalk the earth as if they’re running on someone else’s software.
By Moyana Gebhardt11 months ago in Fiction
Divine Mirror
Everything has a melting point. I think mine must be an extremely high temperature, because the events of my life have been nothing short of volcanic. I’ve melted over and over, rising like a phoenix from the ashes of myself, each time a new reincarnation. I’ve had multiple names. Shifting in and out of form to fill whatever role I needed to. All in this one lifetime. The whole thing has been a mystery to my local mind, but deep within, I understand it as my purpose. A mirror does not exist for themselves, but to serve a greater good. Not to convince anyone of anything. There is no room for dogma, or various limiting beliefs, or judgment. There is only a flame of love to be reflected back, showing the other what is also inside them. To merely exist, walk the Earth humbly, to nurture the spark and offer the fire to those who forgotten. Just by being there as a walking embodiment of Divine love. What grace I have been given in the form of love, forgiveness, and understanding within myself, is easily shared with everyone I meet.
By Moyana Gebhardtabout a year ago in Confessions
Fly Little Birds
Motherhood has to be one of the most complex, nuanced issues on the face of the earth. I find myself grappling with all sides of it most days and my multifaceted brain gets tangled in the highway of thought. I have my own experience of motherhood and that is all I can really speak from. Because we all start from the Mother. None of us would be here without Her. I am a mother of four, three of which are adults now and one teenager. And I am estranged from them, mostly. Two of them wish not to be in my life, and two I hear from on occasion. It’s hard to know where to start to explain the story of how I am living a life apart from the ones I brought into this world, cared for single handedly even with partners present, and fought alone in the war that was motherhood. With all the information I have now, as the world discovers undiagnosed autism and neurodivergence in the world of women, trauma awareness and other issues of access such as poverty, I can see through a clear enough lens. I can hear my own trauma and experience with my own mother, and I can hear the pain of my children from the ways in which I wasn’t able to show up. It’s been a long journey that I am still on to forgive myself for doing the best I could with the tools I had.
By Moyana Gebhardtabout a year ago in Confessions
Bus
I’m a weird little bus. I’m starting to see it now. I don’t have a route planned, but I have a unique guidance system. It doesn’t make sense to anyone but me. I haven’t always followed it. Those were some hard times. To be honest, it’s all been hard, with a few moments of chocolate syrup sprinkled in. I keep feeling like I’m going to get caught. I have dreams sometimes of some alien federation demanding to meet with me and I always have two feelings about it in the dream: like I’m in trouble and pissed about that.
By Moyana Gebhardtabout a year ago in Fiction
House Portals
House Portals Some houses are portals. They sleep until their ward finds them and then become activated. They become a great red doorway for all manner of interdimensional creatures to travel through. A highway for many frequencies to pass through. An intergalactic lighthouse. The Traveler that is assigned as caretaker of these grounds is wired with special protections so they can spend their energy holding the frequencies for creatures to get where they need to go.
By Moyana Gebhardtabout a year ago in Fiction
