Matangi Jayanti: The Wild Voice of Becoming

She comes to me in the undertones of the woods, cloaked in green shadow and birdsong.

In the crevices of Her moss-laden bosom, I have always known Her—from the Catskill Mountains of my youth to the cedar-thick forests and creekside sanctuaries that have quietly shaped my bones.

She, who embraces the flora and fauna of the Wild, also embraces me.
She, who shelters like a grove of trees and brings comfort like a bed of moss, holds all the parts of me that have been severed, silenced, and sent away.

Matangi is the Goddess of the Outcast—the Keeper of What Was Once Shunned.
She is the Devi who does not polish herself for approval. She is not here to be palatable. She is here to be true.

She is for the misfits, the mystics, the artists with cracked voices and broken brushes—the ones whose path has never been straight, whose truth has been hidden beneath layers of shame, trauma, or cultural forgetting.

And She doesn’t just hold those parts—She sings to them.
She awakens them with sound. With mantra. With voice. With the raw pulse of art as prayer.

Where Saraswati glides in with crystalline precision, Matangi rises from the compost—ripe with story, rhythm, and the frequency of the real.
She is the wild Nada—the subtle Sound current flowing through every creature, whispering: you belong, exactly as you are.

She governs the throat chakra, yes. But also the sacred space between the heart and the tongue—the liminal channel where soul becomes sound.

When we chant for Her, with Her, through Her, we are not just repeating syllables.
We are reclaiming our power. We are gathering the broken threads of our voice and weaving them into medicine.

Practice becomes alchemy.
Breath becomes liberation.
Mantra becomes the forest trail leading us back to ourselves.

She teaches us that the voice is holy not because it is perfect, but because it is true.

Every whisper. Every roar. Every vocal shake and prayer. Every silent truth we’ve swallowed to survive.

With Matangi, nothing is wasted.. our scars, badges. Our abandonment, reclaimed love. Our mistakes, moments of aha.

Matangi teaches us to become resonant and wildly US—not performative.

To allow our voice—our one true VOICE—to finally move through us.
Not just for healing. But for Becoming.

“Creativity is like the dense forest at night, and to move through, we only have to look up to the moon to guide us. That guiding light for this journey will be the Soul, and we as creatives will adhere to their voice.” —Dr. Chanti Tacorante Perez