No matter where you are on your path, no matter whether you have a conscious awareness and understanding of the massive changes taking place right now within you, around, above and below you…
…the universe is afoot.
As the gentle and gifted bodymindspiritworker said to me yesterday as she midwifed me through my evolutionary imperative, “This is your 2012.”
What she meant was that, for me — and I’m guessing for some of you, as well, we are approaching or we are smack dab in the middle of what this multidimensional telepathic galactic truthteller (Eek! None of these labels means anything anymore!) terms “…the end of the end” (which is, of course, truly, the beginning of the beginning)…
If you have given physical birth to another being, you know that labor pains are real. You know that you come to a point where it makes no difference what books you’ve read or what exercises you’ve practiced or classes you’ve attended: You absolutely must get out of the way, take your control-slurping mind with you, and allow Nature to take its course.
Same with now. And by now, I mean Today. I mean This Week. I mean This Now.
All you can really do is go with it. Let it go. Be stripped down to your most natural, primal, cellular self, and step into your place in the circle of evolution. Or, of course, you can choose to fight, to resist, to grasp with desperation, and to rip yourself to shreds in the process. The choice is always, incontrovertibly, unquestionably yours.
We’re scraping the bottom of the barrel here, folks. What’s your biggest, deepest, core issue? What’s the one area of your life that has never, ever, worked with joy and ease? What black hole of fear or doubt, of pain, of grief, of resentment continues to whirl you around and about in some sort of emotional or spiritual dirtdevil that shuts you down or whips you into a frenzy?
A friend of mine feels as though she is battling a lifelong storehouse of anger. Another acquaintance is being hit by a tsunami rooted in alienation, persecution, and judgment. Others are finally, finally, releasing age-old, false belief systems perpetuated by religion, government, and social institutions. For me, I have just ventured into cascading lifetimes of inconsolable grief and loss of family, lovers, and the very culture of my soul.
All of us are walking or lying about in a vague, altered reality. Tired yet unable to fully rest during our “busy” nights. Hungry yet unable to even be in the same room with foods we once loved. Clearing our closets of clothing that we cannot fathom wearing on our newly-reconstituted bodyforms or into our new lives.
Just last week, I gave the final NO! to a cantankerous, pushmepullyou relationship that went on (and off and on and…) for nearly 13 years. This was not a simple act of “breaking up with my boyfriend” — this was me picking up my sword and shield, stepping into my full warrior stance, beating back every nuance of unworthiness as it rose up in me in waves, and refusing to stand one more moment in a place where I was receiving so far less than I deserved. It felt like heart-to-heart combat as I whacked away tangled vines and thorny trees that I had deluded myself contained the blossoms of roses and lilies of Divine Love.
Is it any wonder that for the last five days, I have saturated my home and myself with music like “My Grief On The Sea” by Jennifer Cutting’s Ocean Orchestra? (If you like this music and the dulcet Celtic tones of Washington, DC-native Grace Griffith, go to Youtube to hear Cutting’s other offerings, especially If You Are Near, based on the classical aria by German composer Gottfried Heinrich Stölzel yet often mis-attributed to J.S. Bach.
Do what you can to nurture yourself during these turbulent days. Find someplace – anyplace – where you can disconnect from the insanity around you and connect with Nature’s glory. By any means possible, pare down your responsibilities for a time and focus on your needs. Cry. Laugh. Sleep. Soak. Walk. Run. Swim. Write. Create. It’s not the form that matters; it’s the energy of your truth, your light, and your way. Whatever that looks like; however you express it.
This is not a test. Repeat: This is not a test.