When the elements speak with unusual force, they often invite us to listen for what is stirring beneath the surface of the world and within the soul of humanity.
The past days in Andalusia have been marked by a true deluge, almost biblical in nature, caused by continuos storms. Families have been evacuated, businesses destroyed, animals displaced. In Mijas, where we currently live in the mountains, the rain has not ceased and the winds have been intense. We have been fortunate not to suffer direct flooding due to our elevation, yet the damage has still been significant: fallen trees, shattered terrace glass, damaged structures. The force of these phenomena is felt not only in the land, but in the body and in the spirit.
And this is not an isolated event. Extreme rainfall, adverse climates, and unusual weather patterns are occurring simultaneously across many parts of Europe and the world. Something is moving, not only in the atmosphere, but on a deeper plane.
From the perspective of Kabbalah, water is never just water. Water represents Chesed, the energy of flow, mercy, and divine expansion. Yet when this flow overflows its proper bounds, when it ceases to be held and becomes a flood, Kabbalah teaches that we are witnessing an excess of Chesed without Gevurah—without boundary, without containment, without structure. The Flood in the time of Noah was not merely a punishment, but an act of cosmic purification, a deep cleansing when the world could no longer sustain the imbalance it had created.
The Ark of Noah was a womb, a gestational space in which life was protected while the earth was washed of a density it could no longer carry. In Hebrew mysticism, the flood represents a temporary return to the primordial waters, to the chaos that existed before form, so that a new creation might emerge.
We are a microcosm of the universe. What occurs in the earth occurs within us. We are not separate from heaven or from nature; we are a meeting point between the two. When the earth weeps, something in humanity is also weeping. When the heavens open with such force, it may be the expression of a collective, unacknowledged grief—emotions carried for generations: sorrow unexpressed, fear, loss, exhaustion.
These almost biblical rains can be read as the tears of the earth and the human soul at the same time. A weeping that is a plea for reordering. Water falls to soften what has grown too hardened, to dissolve internal and external structures that no longer sustain life, to remind us that without receptivity, without listening, without a return to the heart, flow becomes devastating rather than life-giving.
We stand between heaven and earth, responsible for creating balance between the two. When this alignment is lost, extremes manifest. Perhaps these rains are inviting us to return to the teivah, the inner ark, the space of the soul where we can listen, contain, pray, and realign with life itself.
Not every flood announces an ending. Some announce a beginning. Yet all demand presence, humility, and shared responsibility. For what moves in the atmosphere also moves in consciousness, and what we heal within helps restore balance without.
A year ago, I left my beloved Madrid to live in Mijas, Andalusia. It was the fulfillment of a soul-deep longing I had carried since the time I was pregnant with my daughter, a longing rooted in an older memory.
Before conceiving her, Light Being Sarah Tamar appeared to me in a vision. Later, I came to know her as the daughter of Yeshua and Mary Magdalene. At that time, I did not know it was possible to consciously connect with souls before incarnation, yet the connection occurred. In her luminous presence, my daughter appeared in the form she would later take at eleven years old. Behind her stood a village and a church. The vision was clear, serene, and filled with recognition.
Years later, while pregnant, I traveled to Mijas for the first time. As soon as I stepped onto this land, I knew without doubt that it was the place I had seen in the vision. It was not a conclusion of the mind, but a remembrance activated in the body. Many years later, life finally brought me to live on the land Sarah Tamar had shown me.
Since then, revelations have continued. One of them has been the memory of ancient rites dedicated to Asherah, the ancient Hebrew feminine Goddess, who according to early traditions and historical traces was honored in these coastal lands before being erased or silenced by later patriarchal structures.
In ancient mysticism, Asherah represents the maternal principle of the Divine, the matrix of life, the womb of the world. She is associated with the tree, the sea, fertility, primordial waters, and the capacity to contain and give form. In certain mystical streams, Asherah is understood as an archaic manifestation of feminine Wisdom, a presence that precedes the separation of heaven and earth.
Her relationship with water and with floods is quite strong. From a deep symbolic reading, the flood is not only destruction, but a return to the original waters, to the womb of creation, when existing forms can no longer sustain the life within them. Asherah, as Mother of the Waters, embodies the power to dissolve in order to re-gestate. Water devastates when there is no listening, yet it also cleanses, softens, and prepares the ground for new life.
From this perspective, floods call us to remember the maternal principle of creation, to restore our relationship with the earth, the body, and feeling. Asherah reminds us that without the feminine—without containment, care, and relationality—flow becomes ungovernable. Water needs a channel, and the world needs a heart.
Perhaps these intense rains speak not only of climate, but of an ancient memory resurfacing. A reminder that the earth is alive, that our unexpressed collective emotions seek release, and that humanity is being called to reconcile with the Mother who was denied.
The message of Asherah tthrough the waters: to remember how to inhabit the earth with reverence, how to listen again to the body, how to honor the womb of life in all its forms, so that a new relationship between heaven, humanity, and earth may be born.
And the deeper revelation this thread points toward is the union of Sarah Tamar and Asherah: the meeting of the incarnating soul and the primordial Mother, the convergence of lineage and womb, where future and origin recognize one another beyond time.
Sarah Tamar teaches us that the Soul is love that chooses to return, the soul consents to enter form and flesh. Asherah reminds us of the earth that knows how to receive, to gestate, to hold and to release. One arrives bearing destiny; the other opens the space in which destiny can safely take root.
In their meeting, the soul remembers that arrival is a sacred descent, and the Mother remembers that creation is an ongoing act of tenderness. Here, birth and return are movements within the same living rhythm. The future bows to its origin, and origin blesses what is yet to come.
May we always remember that every breath we take is the Miracle of a Divine Love made flesh. And with this knowing, may the waters continue to heal us.
Ahava,
Ana Otero
