I will keep this short dear ones. During these dark times, I find it hard to write; at least, something structured or readable. And when I do, often pain takes over.1
I wish I could describe with proper words what is going on inside of me. But you see, I don´t know. Proper words -or just words- will not fit this time. Maybe there is nothing to say in fact. Maybe just to listen? As Rumi says : The pains you feel are messengers. Listen to them. There is so much truth in this.
I felt that intensely in the last weeks. I felt the disappearance. I felt the immensity of the void. I felt darkness and grief. Nowhere to go. Noone to talk to. I needed to stop : just stop. Stop and listen. Stop and breathe. Stop and surrender. Most of all, listen to the messages : what is in the way, is the way.
In many Shamanic traditions, when something unbearable happens in one´s life, when the pain is too big, when we are in shock, a part of our Soul detaches itself and departs. It flies away! It is a very natural process which is meant for protection; it allows us to continue to live. Otherwise we would die.
When I was asked some weeks ago, (by a lovely and caring colleague) what was the «matter» with me, I responded, without even thinking, something happened to my soul.
I did not expect to say it like this, specially not in a working environment…but I did not think about it before, and so, those are the words that suddenly burst out of my mouth.
Maybe this is not what is happening. Maybe this is just the story of my life. Maybe it is the story of forgiving myself and accepting my limitations. Maybe this is about starting to establish new healthy boundaries. Maybe this is the story of my initiation into another world, another purpose in life?
For many years now, I have been working with Ghosts. Mine. My family´s. My ancestors. The ghosts of the place I live in. The ghosts of the people I work with. I work with them. I dream of them. Often. They are my companions. They stand next to me. I listen to them through the wind. As I believe our lives are only repeating fragments of past lives, forms of past forms, words of past words, actions of past actions, I am watching myself doing a series of small repetitions, perfectly enmeshed with my (beloved) ghosts.
Maybe also what happens right now is that Saturn is making its Second Return in my life. I do not know much (almost nothing) about astrology but it makes sense. Because it is said that when Saturn makes its second return in your chart, you will clearly feel the wind of change, it might even blow very hard, and most likely, you will be given a good shake-up to say the least. Fortunately they also say that after that, will start your physical and spiritual rebirth.
We are mysterious beings. We are made of many hidden cracks and light and powers. May I find the power to accept into my heart that life is so much more… and everything will be fine.
We are all a repetition of a past life. Since life must constitute itself through birth, it is always a repetition. No origin is possible; life is always a new version of that which preceded it. This is why all questions regarding the origins of life are paradoxical and end up in aporias.
As a repetition, each life has an ambiguous relationship with the past, of which it is at once symbol and index: it contains this past within itself and is its embodied expres-sion. Yet in being so expressed, the past is not simply signified in the service of memory or remembrance, it is rearranged, arbitrarily reconstituted, transfigured. For the same reason, all life is of a symbolic nature. This was the case even before the appearance of verbal language: every life, in its body, is already language. It is birth that makes of anatomical and physiological forms something that has the status of a sign. Emanuel Coccia Metamorphoses
Difficult to write but I have created a new instagram account - where I post regularly a new series of my collages. You can see them if you search for “medicine.of.the.soul” or just my name (Sage Canellis) I guess that works fine too.
This is beautiful, Sage. "Something happened to my soul." I love that. Our souls have lives of their own, it seems. What appears as illness may actually be part of your soul's flowering.
Beautifully said. Difficulty is a doorway, isn't it? For you to open that door to its many possibilities, is in itself a minor miracle in these times. Thank you. My ghosts thank yours :)