Stephanie Joyce
They didn’t erase the true essence of Mary Magdalene because she was irrelevant. They erased her because she remembered.
She remembered the feminine mysteries buried beneath scripture, behind ritual, under centuries of dogma. She remembered the body as temple, the breath as prayer, the Earth as living scripture. And what if the same forces that silenced her are still shaping your beliefs today?
You’ve been taught that dragons are dangerous. That priestesses are fantasy. That Mary Magdalene was a redeemed sinner instead of a radical teacher. But the truth flips the narrative on its head.
The Serpent Fire Rises
To speak of Mary Magdalene is to speak of embodied awakening—of the serpent fire known across lineages as kundalini. When awakened, this coiled energy rises through the spine, activating every chakra, every dormant strand of soul memory, until heaven and Earth meet within the body. This is not a metaphor. This is the dragon stirring.
Mary was not just the companion of Christ—she was his equal, his mirror, his co-initiate in the mysteries of divine union. In their alchemical love, her kundalini was fully awakened, not as a wild force to be feared, but as a sacred current of gnosis. In her presence, the serpent did not tempt—it transformed. The flame did not burn—it blessed. She didn’t transcend her body to reach God. She descended fully into it. This is the path of the dragon priestess.
And so we arrive at the symbol feared and distorted for ages—the dragon itself.
The Dragon as Symbol of the Untamed Self
What if that fire-breathing beast wasn’t your enemy—but your soul?
The part of you you’ve silenced to fit in. The part you buried beneath productivity, politeness, and spiritual half-truths. The dragon stirs every time you betray your intuition, every time you shrink to be accepted, every time you feel the pressure to “stay small.” That restlessness? That rage? That quiet rebellion in your chest? It’s the dragon, knocking.
In alchemy, the dragon is not an obstacle. It is a threshold. The liminal gate between who you think you are and the Self you’re terrified to meet.
To face the dragon is to face what you’ve suppressed—desire, grief, power, clarity, hunger. Not to destroy it, but to listen. The dragon doesn’t ask for obedience. It demands honesty.
This is not light work. You don’t summon a dragon with empty intentions. You meet it in the fire of presence, in the discipline of devotion. Once awakened, it will not let you go back to who you were pretending to be.
Mary Magdalene: Guardian of the Inner Flame
Mary Magdalene was never an afterthought. She was the first to see. The first to know. The first to witness the risen Christ—not because she was sentimental, but because she was initiated.
While others fled, she stayed. While others fumbled in doubt, she embodied direct knowing. In the Gospel of Mary, a suppressed and gnostic text, she speaks not with hesitation, but with command. She offers teachings so potent that even Peter, the “rock” of the Church, grows uncomfortable. Why? Because the feminine voice that remembers its own sovereignty is dangerous to systems built on hierarchy and fear.
She was not a disciple of belief. She was a philosopher of the unseen. A vessel of gnosis. A dragon priestess in her own right—one who carried the fire, not just followed it.
Her presence wasn’t casual. It was catalytic.
Embodiment as the Temple
The dragon priestesses of ancient traditions didn’t seek to ascend out of the body. They descended into it. They knew that to truly awaken, you don’t rise above the flesh—you sanctify it.
Their temples weren’t carved from stone. Their temples bled. Breathed. Danced. Their prayers were not only spoken—they were sung through every movement of the hips, every inhalation, every menstrual cycle, every moan of grief or pleasure.
To reclaim this wisdom is to say: I will no longer separate the sacred from the sensual. I will no longer exile the body from the spiritual. Because the body remembers. It carries ancestral trauma and ancestral truth. It knows what your mind was conditioned to forget.
The Forgotten Isn't Lost—It's Dormant
This isn’t fantasy. It’s your inheritance.
We are not inventing a new spirituality. We are remembering an old one—buried beneath colonization, conquest, patriarchy, and control. A woman who honors her cycle without shame isn’t just empowered. She’s reclaiming a cosmic rhythm. A man who breathes through his grief instead of numbing it isn’t just healing. He’s restoring balance to the sacred masculine.
The modern longing for embodiment—through breathwork, movement, conscious sexuality, somatic therapy—isn’t a trend. It’s an ancient call, echoing across timelines, across lifetimes. A pulse in your cells that says: You’ve been here before. You knew this once. It’s time to remember.
This Is the Fire They Couldn’t Kill
The dragon is not outside of you. It is in your spine. In your rage. In your longing. In your refusal to numb or conform. And the feminine always knew how to walk with it—not to tame it, but to let it guide the way.
To awaken the Magdalene within is not to worship a historical figure—it is to awaken the part of yourself that knows without proof, that speaks without permission, that questions what others blindly accept.
It is not a return to religion. It is a return to revelation.
So ask yourself:
Where have I silenced my truth?
What part of me have I crucified to be accepted?
What fire within me have I been taught to fear?
Write. Move. Breathe. Ask not for perfection, but for presence. Magdalene doesn't live in temples built on shame. She lives in your breath, your belly, your bones. And when you remember her, you remember yourself.
You remember the dragon.
You remember the fire.
And no one can take it from you again.
They didn’t erase the true essence of Mary Magdalene because she was irrelevant. They erased her because she remembered.
She remembered the feminine mysteries buried beneath scripture, behind ritual, under centuries of dogma. She remembered the body as temple, the breath as prayer, the Earth as living scripture. And what if the same forces that silenced her are still shaping your beliefs today?
You’ve been taught that dragons are dangerous. That priestesses are fantasy. That Mary Magdalene was a redeemed sinner instead of a radical teacher. But the truth flips the narrative on its head.
The Serpent Fire Rises
To speak of Mary Magdalene is to speak of embodied awakening—of the serpent fire known across lineages as kundalini. When awakened, this coiled energy rises through the spine, activating every chakra, every dormant strand of soul memory, until heaven and Earth meet within the body. This is not a metaphor. This is the dragon stirring.
Mary was not just the companion of Christ—she was his equal, his mirror, his co-initiate in the mysteries of divine union. In their alchemical love, her kundalini was fully awakened, not as a wild force to be feared, but as a sacred current of gnosis. In her presence, the serpent did not tempt—it transformed. The flame did not burn—it blessed. She didn’t transcend her body to reach God. She descended fully into it. This is the path of the dragon priestess.
And so we arrive at the symbol feared and distorted for ages—the dragon itself.
The Dragon as Symbol of the Untamed Self
What if that fire-breathing beast wasn’t your enemy—but your soul?
The part of you you’ve silenced to fit in. The part you buried beneath productivity, politeness, and spiritual half-truths. The dragon stirs every time you betray your intuition, every time you shrink to be accepted, every time you feel the pressure to “stay small.” That restlessness? That rage? That quiet rebellion in your chest? It’s the dragon, knocking.
In alchemy, the dragon is not an obstacle. It is a threshold. The liminal gate between who you think you are and the Self you’re terrified to meet.
To face the dragon is to face what you’ve suppressed—desire, grief, power, clarity, hunger. Not to destroy it, but to listen. The dragon doesn’t ask for obedience. It demands honesty.
This is not light work. You don’t summon a dragon with empty intentions. You meet it in the fire of presence, in the discipline of devotion. Once awakened, it will not let you go back to who you were pretending to be.
Mary Magdalene: Guardian of the Inner Flame
Mary Magdalene was never an afterthought. She was the first to see. The first to know. The first to witness the risen Christ—not because she was sentimental, but because she was initiated.
While others fled, she stayed. While others fumbled in doubt, she embodied direct knowing. In the Gospel of Mary, a suppressed and gnostic text, she speaks not with hesitation, but with command. She offers teachings so potent that even Peter, the “rock” of the Church, grows uncomfortable. Why? Because the feminine voice that remembers its own sovereignty is dangerous to systems built on hierarchy and fear.
She was not a disciple of belief. She was a philosopher of the unseen. A vessel of gnosis. A dragon priestess in her own right—one who carried the fire, not just followed it.
Her presence wasn’t casual. It was catalytic.
Embodiment as the Temple
The dragon priestesses of ancient traditions didn’t seek to ascend out of the body. They descended into it. They knew that to truly awaken, you don’t rise above the flesh—you sanctify it.
Their temples weren’t carved from stone. Their temples bled. Breathed. Danced. Their prayers were not only spoken—they were sung through every movement of the hips, every inhalation, every menstrual cycle, every moan of grief or pleasure.
To reclaim this wisdom is to say: I will no longer separate the sacred from the sensual. I will no longer exile the body from the spiritual. Because the body remembers. It carries ancestral trauma and ancestral truth. It knows what your mind was conditioned to forget.
The Forgotten Isn't Lost—It's Dormant
This isn’t fantasy. It’s your inheritance.
We are not inventing a new spirituality. We are remembering an old one—buried beneath colonization, conquest, patriarchy, and control. A woman who honors her cycle without shame isn’t just empowered. She’s reclaiming a cosmic rhythm. A man who breathes through his grief instead of numbing it isn’t just healing. He’s restoring balance to the sacred masculine.
The modern longing for embodiment—through breathwork, movement, conscious sexuality, somatic therapy—isn’t a trend. It’s an ancient call, echoing across timelines, across lifetimes. A pulse in your cells that says: You’ve been here before. You knew this once. It’s time to remember.
This Is the Fire They Couldn’t Kill
The dragon is not outside of you. It is in your spine. In your rage. In your longing. In your refusal to numb or conform. And the feminine always knew how to walk with it—not to tame it, but to let it guide the way.
To awaken the Magdalene within is not to worship a historical figure—it is to awaken the part of yourself that knows without proof, that speaks without permission, that questions what others blindly accept.
It is not a return to religion. It is a return to revelation.
So ask yourself:
Where have I silenced my truth?
What part of me have I crucified to be accepted?
What fire within me have I been taught to fear?
Write. Move. Breathe. Ask not for perfection, but for presence. Magdalene doesn't live in temples built on shame. She lives in your breath, your belly, your bones. And when you remember her, you remember yourself.
You remember the dragon.
You remember the fire.
And no one can take it from you again.
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