Women Write Themselves Back Into History Through Sacred Transmission

✨ Voices Returning: The Divine Feminine Rising

For centuries, women’s voices were erased, distorted, or silenced. Yet the truth is this: what has been buried is rising. Across the world, people are feeling the return of the divine feminine, the stirring of archetypes, and the remembrance of Magdalene in their very bones. This episode of The Remembrance Codes opens a sacred space for four voices to rise - Delilah, the fire-branded witch, Dr. Ruth remembered, and Amahle whose song still carries through centuries.

If you’ve been sensing Magdalene in your field, if you’ve been walking with archetypal memory, or if you’ve been asking how the feminine is being restored in our time - you will feel this transmission deeply. These are not just stories of the past. They are living codes, frequencies that awaken the women and men of today to a new balance of power, presence, and truth.

What You’ll Experience in This Episode

• Delilah Rewritten – Beyond the betrayer narrative, a woman speaks her own truth.
• The Voice of Fire – The archetype of the witch who burned returns, not for revenge, but for clarity.
• Dr. Ruth Remembered – Modern wisdom on pleasure and the sacredness of desire.
• Amahle, the Unbroken Song – Ancestral rhythm that became the backbone of music and freedom.

Together, these voices remind us that the divine feminine cannot be erased. The flame may have been contained, but the wildfire of remembrance cannot be buried.

Why This Matters Now ~

We are in a time of collective awakening, when Magdalene codes, feminine archetypes, and soul memories are re-emerging. Whether you call it the rise of the divine feminine, the restoration of balance, or the return of the voices, the invitation is the same:

• To listen deeply.
• To remember what was hidden.
• To claim your own story.

When we hear Delilah’s truth, or the fire-branded woman’s roar, or Amahle’s song, we aren’t just hearing history rewritten. We are feeling the field of remembrance activate inside of us.

Keywords woven for resonance & reach:

• Divine Feminine Rising
• Magdalene Codes
• Feminine Archetypes
• Voices Returning
• Sacred Feminine Awakening
• Mary Magdalene Transmission
• Witch Wound Healing
• Embodied Feminine Power

Join the Journey

If these voices stir something in you, know that you are not alone. The remembrance is collective. Subscribe to this podcast to continue walking with me, Susan Sutherland, as we explore Magdalene teachings, archetypal remembrance, and the rising of the feminine field.

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Chapters

• 0:44 Welcome to The Remembrance Codes
• 3:00 Finding Voices Erased From History
• 5:13 Delilah Speaks Her Truth
• 8:38 The Witch's Fire Reclaimed
• 12:52 Dr. Ruth's Unspoken Wisdom
• 16:56 Amal: The Voice Unbroken
• 23:21 Honoring Their Stories Today

Transcript

Speaker 1: 0:22

Welcome to the Remembrance Codes. I'm Susan Sutherland, and I want to start by telling you a story of a quiet weekend. My boys had all gone away, they were out of town for the weekend, and my daughter was still enjoying the last bit of summer sleep-ins, sleeping until nearly noon before having an afternoon of tryouts and so my house was exceptionally quiet, and normally I would have found that to be a good time to organize or clean or get my work done. But I did something that I probably haven't done since I began my parenting journey 17 years ago. I gifted myself a weekend of nothingness, no work, no long list of chores, just me and a soft chair on the patio and a book of fiction. I read the Book of Longings, and inside its pages I found a seed I didn't even realize I had planted, a seed that had been waiting for stillness, for space, to crack open. In that book, anna is the imagined wife of Jesus, and she longed not only for her own voice to be heard, to be written she was a scribe but also to write down the voices of other women who had been erased. Write down the voices of other women who had been erased, and as I am reading about her writing. I am thinking about Magdalene's voice coming up through my bones and Anna kept writing. And I thought about Lilith's voice returning into the field. And as Anna progressed. And as Anna progressed, she had a collection, often written in secret, but eventually a collection that was bound and on the shelves of a library and something inside of me stirred. That's what I could do. I could be that scribe and the channel I could allow the women to write themselves back into the story, not with my own words, but in their own voices. And so I opened a sacred space and they came. I have spent many mornings and quiet afternoons communing with women who are returning to share their story, not just to write what was erased but to put their codes into the fields for the women who are walking these stories.

Speaker 1: 2:58

Now I am not going to share all of the voices here on the podcast. I will continually share more of them in the Keeper's Garden. But my goal and my hope is to one day have the collection printed and bound, for their voices to be held on pages and in hands so that others can feel their return as I have. But today I want to invite you to listen to four of them. Each carries not only a different story but a different tone, and together they make a really beautiful ensemble. We have Scripture Rewritten, fire Reclaimed, modern Wisdom Remembered and An Ancestral Song. So thank you for being the first to receive their stories.

Speaker 1: 3:58

I am going to begin with Delilah. When you hear her name, you may already feel the weight of the story that was written about her A seductress, a betrayer, a warning. That is the script that was written, not the truth of who she was. But what happens when Delilah speaks for herself, when she's no longer bound by Samson's downfall or the morality tale that was written in men's ink? What comes through is not the betrayer, it is a woman with her own longing, her own choices and her own voice. And today she begins not as a villain, but as a witness to her own life.

Speaker 1: 4:51

They told you I was a seductress, a trap, a downfall, but I was not the one who fell. They called me dangerous because I did not bow to the strength they feared. Nor did I confuse it. For, holiness, I did not betray Samson, he betrayed himself. He forgot the difference between force and presence. He thought the hair made the man. He forgot the vow behind the braid. I reminded him. You want the truth.

Speaker 1: 5:32

I loved him, yes, but not blindly. I did not love his violence. I did not love his rage. I loved the whisper underneath all that noise. But he gave his body to war and called it destiny. He told himself that being chosen meant he could take what he wanted, break what he wanted, ignore who he wanted. And when I asked him to see me, to truly see me, he offered riddles and dominance. So I waited, not for revenge, for clarity. And when he fell asleep in my lap, his guard down, his breath soft, I saw the boy beneath the beast and I knew this will not end in peace. So I cut the braid, not because I hated him, but because I could not carry the weight of a man who confused destruction for calling. It was not the hair I cut, it was the illusion. They called me a betrayer because they needed someone to blame when the strong man stumbled.

Speaker 1: 7:01

But I can tell you this Sometimes love must cut what pride won't. Sometimes the only mercy left is the unraveling. I do not seek your pity, I do not need to be redeemed, but I speak now to the women who had been cast as destroyers, when all they did was refuse to romanticize ruin. To those who saw the truth and acted even when the story would never favor them. I see you, you are not dangerous. You are clear and clarity. To those who profit from confusion will always look like betrayal. Some of the women have been offering invocations or prayers, but Delilah just wanted to sign off with a quote. I was not his downfall, I was the mirror he dared not face. Love Delilah.

Speaker 1: 8:16

The next voice came through, not a single soul stream, but a chorus. Her voice does not come softly, it arrives as flame. She does not whisper, she roars. She carries the heat of centuries of women who were silenced by fire. Their bodies turned into warnings for others who might dare to know too much, to speak too boldly, to live too freely. She is not one woman, she is every woman, every woman who burned. Her words crackle with grief and fury, but also with fierce clarity. Listen closely, because in her fire there is not only rage but there is truth still burning. They meant woman who remembers the language of the wind, the medicine of root, the songs that calm storms and soothe wombs and unravel lies.

Speaker 1: 9:37

But I was not dangerous. Their fear was I stirred herbs while they stirred stories. They saw my knowing and called it a threat. But I did not hex. I healed Until they came with rope and scripture and axes and crosses. Not to reason, to silence. They said the fire was justice. It was not. It was erase and warn. But the flame did not consume me, it freed me. No-transcript. I became the whisper behind your dreams when you began to remember. I scattered and now I gather again.

Speaker 1: 10:35

You who light candles and speak to the moon, you who feel everything and know what hasn't been said, you who are told to quiet down, cover up, behave. You are the return of the flame, not to burn cities but to illuminate what's been hidden, not to cast spells but to break them. Not to curse but to correct the record. I do not need my name restored I have worn too many to count but I ask you this Will you stop apologizing for the part of you that knows things you were never taught? Will you stop fearing your own fire? You are not too much. You are the matchstick. You are not unstable, you are the storm breaking false foundations. You are not unholy. You are what? Holiness, exiled because it couldn't be controlled. Let them tell their stories, Let them build their statues, but let woman who has ever whispered. Never again. I got all the goosebumps of that one and I am sure many of you felt that in your bones, a remembrance of your own. Many of you felt that in your bones, a remembrance of your own, our third voice.

Speaker 1: 12:35

I will tell you that not all women that were silenced or tempered their truths lived in distant centuries. Some walked in our own lifetime. Some even had platforms and audiences and microphones platforms and audiences and microphones, but their full voice was not heard. Dr Ruth was one of them. She spoke of desire and sexuality with a candor that unsettled the polite world. She broke through walls of shame with humor and warmth. Yet even she was boxed in Her voice, reduced to novelty and entertainment rather than the medicine that it was. So she wanted to return, not as a caricature but as a teacher, reminding us that longing and touch and pleasure can be holy.

Speaker 1: 13:34

You may remember me, small in stature but bold in voice. I had to be In my time. The world wasn't ready to call sexuality holy, but I still found a way to open the door. I used wit so they would listen. I used science so they would trust me, but beneath it all, I was always tending to something deeper Shame, unspoken Bodies, unseen Pleasure, misunderstood, love withheld. If I had said then what I will say now, they might have shut the door. But you, you are the ones I was planting seeds for.

Speaker 1: 14:24

Here is what I wish I had been able to say we are not just bodies with desire, we are desire in body. The way your spine tingles when you're near someone who sees you, the flutter in your belly, the warmth in your chest, it's not just arousal, it's recognition, it is the soul waking up through the body and whispering. This too is sacred. You cannot heal shame with silence. You cannot restore reverence with repression. You cannot awaken a generation if you are afraid of what truly moves them. So I say this plainly Teach your daughters that their no is holy.

Speaker 1: 15:19

Teach your sons that their yes must be honest. Teach your lovers that pleasure is not performance, it is prayer. When two people meet with consent and curiosity and care, the veil thins, time bends and God watches through your eyes and smiles. This is what was stolen, this is what is ready to return. You need not perform, you need not compare, you need not hide your longing. Your body is good, your pleasure is sacred, and love in all forms was never meant to be silent. And, finally, is one of my favorite transmissions that has come through, because it just it moved me in a very special way.

Speaker 1: 16:36

So I want to introduce Amal. Her name itself means beauty and she carries it with quiet dignity. Her words are steady and rooted and ancestral, and it feels like wisdom rising from the earth beneath your feet. She does not come to shock or to burn, but to ground, to remind us that beyond the erasure, beyond the distortion, there is a rhythm of remembrance that cannot be broken. Cannot be broken. Amal's voice is a song of restoration, a benediction after the roar and the fire, and she invites us back to wholeness.

Speaker 1: 17:22

I was born where the earth was red and the rains came sudden, drumming joy on our thatched roofs. Rains came sudden, drumming joy on our thatched roofs. My name was Amal, the beautiful one, but I did not think of beauty as a mirror, but as belonging. I belonged to the land, to my mother's songs, to the rhythm of drums that marked birth and death and marriage. One day, men came like storms, iron at their belts, hunger in their eyes. They took me from my people, from my river, from the trees whose names I knew. They bound me in chains that clinked like cruel bells and forced me onto a ship that reeked of fear and salt. The sea swallowed my cries, but it could not drown my song. In the belly of that ship, where bodies pressed and breath grew thin, I began to hum, quiet at first, so only the nearest could hear A hum that said you are still here, you are still ours, you are not broken. That hum grew into a chant, chant into hymn, and even in the darkness, melody wove a thread of home. When we reached the shore, the land was not mine. They sold me like grain at the market. My body became their property, my womb their commodity, my labor their profit, but my voice was never theirs.

Speaker 1: 19:25

In the fields I sang while my hands bled with cotton. In the night I sang to the children, even those born of violence, so they would not forget that they carried royal blood in their. The masters heard only noise. They did not know. The songs held maps, messages, memory. A call sung across rows of crops could tell a sister which way freedom lay. A call sung across rows of crops could tell a sister which way freedom lay. A hymn moaned by the fire was a scripture that promised chains would break.

Speaker 1: 20:04

I bore children who were taken from me and though my arms ached empty, I sent my spirit after them with lullabies. I prayed they would remember, even if they forgot the words. The rhythm was a key and the key was freedom. Do not pity me. My body was scarred, yes, but my song was not. My voice. Carried across oceans, across centuries, it became the blues, the gospel shout, the soul cry, the jazz riff, the hip-hop rhythm. My voice became the spine of music itself. They did not write my name, but you feel me when the beat stirs in your blood, when a voice rises, raw and holy, from pain into praise. That is me I am, am multiplied. Write me now, not as slave, but as singer, prophet, mother, warrior of sound. Write me as Amal, the voice unbroken. My chains are ink now and with every word you lay upon the page, they fall away. Word you lay upon the page, they fall away.

Speaker 1: 21:42

Amal's story touched me deep and we conversed and I told her that I would never hear a song that felt like it was seated in soul and not think of her. And I kind of recognized that before she found my pen and my page, she had found my ears. I just didn't realize who was singing, so I wrote a little invocation to her, an offering in return. When the drums begin, I remember you. When the voice rises, I honor you. A mall seed of song. Your rhythm carried freedom when chains held flesh. Your lullabies outlived fire and lash. I will listen now, not as passerby but as a keeper of your vow. May every beat be a breaking of chains, may every cry be a prophecy fulfilled, and may every song be the echo of your name. Amal, the voice unbroken.

Speaker 1: 22:59

Want to craft a remembrance of your own.

Speaker 1: 23:00

If one of these voices spoke deeply to you. When you hear a soul song, allow it to land in your body and just imagine those chains breaking. Or when you speak to the moon or whisper your intentions into your tea, visualize flames that no longer surround the body but are are a blazon within it. This is how we honor these women and these stories. This is how we allow them to live within us and to change how we walk, now that their, their path was not meaningless. It was seeded in our now and how it shapes our story.

Speaker 1: 23:39

And when you have the chance to speak truth and to write your story, do it. Write it in the sand, write it in the soil, it doesn't really matter. What is of truth will live in the field of remembrance and it can be buried but never destroyed. And your voice matters too. Thank you for listening or watching. If you have found this content or my previous episodes aligned in your journey, please support me by subscribing or leaving a comment or a review. It really helps this message, their message, their story get out to more ears. Thank you.