Posts Tagged ‘inner guidance’

An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy.  ~Spanish Proverb

I thought I might open the window into my process a bit today by sharing with you my recognition that I needed a Mother in my life, and how that led me to the Sacred Feminine.

My biological mother was a physically beautiful, petite, perceptive woman with sharp eyes.  My early memories of her indicate a very young person who didn’t really know quite how to be a mother, as she was just a child herself (she was 18 when I was born).  She did what I suppose she thought she should do; her own relationship with her mother was not an easy one, and so mothering did not come so naturally.  When I try to feel her in my early life, I don’t feel much there.  There are shadows, a presence around a corner or in the other room.  It is as if there was an empty space where she should be. 

I do remember some times when she would sit and color with me, which I enjoyed.  It made me feel closer to her, and I felt the presence of her own inner little girl sitting with me at the table as we chose our crayons.  There was some innocence still in her.  We were equals, two young girls at play. 

But I don’t remember feeling the safety of a loving wise elder, a guiding hand.  I don’t remember feeling loved in the sense of being seen and accepted for who I was.  My mother speaks of loving me in the same breath as cherishing me like a doll that she dressed up in special clothes.

As I came into my 5^th year, I think I started to understand how warped things were in my family; my kindergarten picture shows a jaded and angry exterior.  But I still hoped for her to see me, to love me.  I watched her beauty and wanted to be like her, although I never was.  Her thin, dark allure matched the image that was on the tv and in the magazines.  So this was how to be a woman.

Things got crazier in my house when we moved to a rural house in the country outside of Goldsboro.  I think that’s when the drinking started to get out of hand.  Perhaps there wasn’t much else to do there.  My father would go to work each day, and my mother would put her long tresses in pigtails and work on the garden, deepening her already nut brown skin.  As she tended the squash, cucumbers and tomatoes, my sister and I would play outside with the neighbor girls, chasing their chickens or running in the tobacco field behind the house.  Perhaps the drinking was to fill a loneliness, or to assuage her fears that my father might be sleeping with other women (if my information is correct, this is indeed when he started to dally outside of the marriage).  Whatever the reason, this is when I remember having a conscious sense of losing my mother.

I was 7.  I remember having a vision of her, the sweet if unskilled mother in her pigtails, being seized by some aliens (I must have seen some sci-fi movie on the telly).  Her face is frightened; she is being taken away against her will.  She is then shrunk to the size of a Barbie doll, and flushed down the toilet in my parent’s bathroom.  In her place, an evil alien with a carefully arranged face of my mother steps in to our family.      

This is where I start to feel my mother is my enemy.  She was judging and critical of my body, my thoughts, my mind.  I remember feeling afraid of her barbs, stepping delicately around her anger (until I was much older and able to argue with her).  My parents would drink to excess, almost every if not every night.  When I had to get ready for school in the morning, she would sometimes still be passed out in the bed.  Sometimes this worked out in my favor; once I wore a slinky dress I’d found that was inappropriate for my age (I was 9), but made me feel like those playboy girls in my father’s magazines.  When the bus dropped me off at home that day, she was livid when she saw what I was wearing.  I don’t believe I ever wore that dress again.

Time went on; it became apparent that I was the reason for all of my mother’s anger because it was always me that got the blame.  Not one to step into her own inner wisdom, as she continued to stay with this man who sexually abused me, her and other women, she lashed out at me in her own frustration and despair.  Alternately pulling the “I’m the mother, I don’t owe you an explanation” with crying desperately and asking me for advice (“Licia, You’re so wise), I was a very confused adult child.  Needless to say, all of the surviving I did until I left home to go to school got in the way of cultivating peace within myself, and recognition of my own inner feminine.    

Years of therapy, inner work and education helped me to see that what happened to me as a child was not my fault, that there were familial patterns my mother played out, and for whatever reasons, she did not have the strength that I had to break those cycles and claim her life as her own.  Years before I had children, I decided that I would choose not to have any rather than pass on the sickness that was passed on to me.  Being awake in the face of folks who don’t want to be is a hard choice; there are consequences, such as being rejected and losing folks you very much want to have in your life.  To this day, she cannot go there with me.     

This forced me to look elsewhere for mothering.  Sometimes in the form of women who wanted my power, sometimes in the form of women who just gravitated towards me, sometimes in the form of women who projected their own mother issues onto me.  And I projected my share of mother issues, too.  Some very messy relationships with women ensued over my years.  I realized I didn’t know how to be in healthy relationships with women; my mother was my model, and she was distant, manipulative, angry and unconscious, all with a pretty face.  I did not want to play that out any longer in my life.  Finally, desperate for a mother, I turned inward.

(to be continued)

Dear Women!

What a year it has been, and it’s only early February! Many of us have felt both the exhilaration of the new year energy and deep intensity as the purging and transformation of our consciousness continues.

It’s only 10 days until my teleclass “Faces of Her: an educational and experiential exploration of the Sacred Feminine Within” begins on Thursday Feb. 18th.

If you are anything like me or the rest of the folks I am hearing from lately, you will understand that the old way of the world is not working any more. Many of us can feel internally that a new era is beginning.

What is happening? Why do so many of us have an inner knowing that the world is changing? What can we do to midwife a smooth rebirth? These questions and more will be explored in my “Faces of Her” teleclass.

If you FEEL and nod your head to the writings of Clarissa Pinkola Estes, if you DIG the art of Frida Kahlo, if Starhawk’s sweet words whisper into your very heart, if Jean Shinoda Bolen makes you want to jump up and create a women’s circle, if you admire and say YES to any strong, wise woman you hear speak her truth…then you will want to register for this 3-part class starting Thursday, Feb. 18th.

These women are shining examples of having integrated the Sacred Feminine qualities with their inner masculine qualities (the qualities in ourselves we are all taught to live from in western culture). Can you imagine if all of us brought the fullness and balance of the Sacred Union of the feminine and masculine to this world?

This teleclass will show you how by exploring:
• What is the “Sacred Feminine”?

• What is the “Light/Solar Mother”?

• What is the “Dark/Lunar Mother”?

• How do these universal energies show up in our lives?

• How is the Sacred Feminine already within me? How do I recognize Her?

• How can our lives be richer, more magical, and more alive by consciously experiencing these universal energies?

• How can I cultivate a relationship with the Sacred Feminine in my own life?

• Why is the embodiment of the Sacred Feminine important to our continuation as a species?

This class is designed to be appealing to the heart as well as the head, to be full of interesting information as well as an invitation into personal experience of the Sacred Feminine Within.

Personal experiences of the Sacred Feminine Within will be encouraged, inspired, and supported with images, story, poetry, meditations and exercises as well as educational material. You will leave each session FULL and looking forward to MORE.

This tele-class takes place on the phone in the comfort of your own home-you can wear your pajamas and fuzzy slippers!

Join me in this enlivening new/old experience! Choose now to step into your role in this amazing time of rebirth!
Come Home to Mama!

Register here!
http://www.liciaberry.com/Faces%20of%20Her.htm

Can’t wait to talk with you!
Licia Berry
Faces of Her
Creator of the Circle of WiseWomen (FaceBook women’s group)

Lovely readers, thank you so much for coming here and indulging me by reading my writing.  It is such a wonderful thing to connect with you through ideas and sharing, and to hear yours, too!

I want to say a bit about the fact that I work with the angelic spectrum of consciousness.  This may come as a surprise to some of you, and others of you have known it for some years. 

I have had direct experiences since I was very small of the “invisible world”.  My knowing of these realms that we cannot see is ingrained, innate, and intrinsic.  I don’t question it (well, not anymore…I did for a short period of time in my early adult life when I was so lost that I almost couldn’t feel them anymore).  For me, the invisible realms and (the consciousness that inhabits them) are a given.

When the spirits of deceased or the spirit of the wind or a tree or the earth spoke to me as a child, I didn’t question its validity or my own sanity.  Now that I have come back into a comfort level with this knowing, my life is so much easier!

I “check in” every day, several times a day with the invisible realm.  When I say “check in”, I mean I sit down for an intentional conversation.  I do this to ask for assistance, for guidance, and sometimes just for reassurance.  I find this to be a very life affirming practice for me.

Here’s how I think of it: we are all part of the Great Web of Life.  We are each aspects of the Great Web of Life.  Each of us aspects are connected to the others.  I consider a molecule, a cell, a person, a plant, a petal on a flower, a bug, and animal, a particle of dust…you name it, it is All Part of Creation in my understanding.  The aspects of consciousness that happen to be invisible are just aspects that are not in a spectrum of our capability of physical seeing.  I have seen “invisibles” many times in my life, but only when I was in the internal space to be able to see them.

I choose only to work with the aspects of creation that are kind, respectful, unconditionally loving and honoring of free will.  That’s a tall order in some cases, because just because you’re invisible doesn’t mean you necessarily fit into these categories!  (Just ‘cause you’re dead doesn’t mean you’re wise or kind!)  I used to entertain invisible folks who did NOT fit into these categories, and they were not particularly nice or helpful.  Just like us physical folks; some are with the program of love, and others just aren’t.     

I feel that we all tap into what’s called in quantum physics the “morphic field”, or in psychology the “collective unconscious”, or what I call All Creation to some degree or another. Some of us do it more consciously than others, too.  The aspects of Creation that I call Angelic are the ones who meet the description I gave above, and they are some of my most reliable helpers.  Those aspects of Creation are my “go-to guys”.

I am uncomfortable being associated with “new age” spirituality, however.  This thing I do is not a new or pop culture bandwagon for me.  It is my way of life, and has been since I was 2 years old (that I can remember, maybe earlier?)  I don’t have ease with multiple worlds because it is fashionable or “spiritual”…I interact with multiple worlds because they are part of All Creation, and I choose to honor and work in partnership with All Creation as much as I am able to do it.  I consciously partner with the invisible worlds because those invisible worlds share life with me, because that’s the way it IS.  To not acknowledge them feels disrespectful.

So, when you hear me talk about angels and what they told me, please know I am not going round the bend.  I am merely exercising my inter-connectivity muscles and reporting what I am being given from aspects of Creation that want to help, and dearly love me (and all of us).

I’m not talking about harp-playing, winged creatures in robes flying about (although when I have seen them, they ARE quite large!)  I am speaking of a very high-level consciousness that has a large perspective of things.  We humans give them names because we feel the quality of energy they portray; it is a way of helping our little human minds make sense of their vastness to fit them into a box with a name on it.  But in reality, I don’t think they have “names” per se…more, they exhibit a certain quality (such as healing, or communication, protection, etc.) and we decide to call that energy by a name. 

I feel this way about what I call the “earth people”, what some refer to as fairies and elves and gnomes.  When I refer to Great Mother and Great Father, I am talking about aspects of creation that embody those varied qualities of feminine and masculine.  What I call Archangels are an aspect of creation very close to our Source (whatever that may be), and each inhabit and are “in charge” of particular qualities of energy.  What I call Angels are the “step-down” from Archangelic realm; they are an energy interface between our human selves and the Archangel realm.  How did I come by this information?  Oh, goodness, that’s a whole other post!

There is a whole host of wonderful aspects of creation that we can’t see, and if we want to step into that world a bit to play, the benefits are boundless.

My last post has struck a nerve for some of you, and I’m glad to know I’m far from alone in critically examining this word “witch” and trying to understand what it means in an original sense, rather than a pop culture, commercial, colonial, Christian or patriarchal sense (did I leave anybody out?)

 I feel the need to explain why being called a witch is something that stopped me in my tracks.  I have been proud to be a rebel or outsider all of my life, not being willing to be defined by any category or fit into the main stream ideas of what a woman is supposed to be.  I have flaunted my independence, and happily yelled “THANKS!” when someone told me I was weird or different.  However, unlike when a fellow yelled at me from his passing car, “DYKE!” in my buzz cut college phase (I was fine with that mistaken label), being called a “witch” felt too close to home, insidious, and brought up a sinking feeling of terror. 

 I couldn’t understand why I would feel that way in terms of my actual life.  I have never identified myself as a witch, although in my spiritual practice I do some things that might raise the eyebrows of bible thumpers (such as meditation, using homeopathy and herbs to treat illness, and dowsing, a very useful skill I learned from an old woman in the mountains of North Carolina). Of course, my shamanic work could be classified as witchy were it not for its connections to the indigenous populations…or are they “witches”, too?

 While I lived in the village where I was “identified as a public enemy” (before I knew anything about these behind-the-hand remarks about me) I had intuitive flashes in which an angry mob would come drag me out of my office, grab me by my hair and drag me down the street.  The intuitive vision would stop there, not revealing the fate of the woman I seemed to be in the inner vision.  But the feeling of cold stones weighing down the innards of my belly did not easily or soon cease. 

This was not an entirely new sensation for me.  Back in Asheville NC, where we lived for 7 years, I had multiple odd spontaneous awarenesses that involved flashes of me being disemboweled, drowned, or beheaded.  One such instance was preceded by a physical break down of my right shoulder…for weeks it got more and more sore and incapacitated.  After many attempts to have it corrected through chiropractic and massage work (and Advil), in a strange fit of inner knowing, I paused in the living room on my way to take some laundry upstairs and asked silently what my body was telling me. 

Giving in to the motion, my body then took over…I began to move as if somebody much bigger than me was rearranging me like a puppet.  My inner eye saw a lovely young woman with reddish blond curls and a long flowered dress being brought forcibly into a crowd of people.  She must have been 18 or 19 years old.  She was pretty, but had a gleam in her eye and a set to her jaw. My right arm went slammed tight behind my back, fist up behind my heart.  I was forced down to my knees.  My head was pushed down so that I was crouched over.  In my mind’s eye, I saw a bloody stump of a tree, where I was now resting my chest.  As my eyes looked down on red ground, I heard and felt a stalwart, “I will never let this happen to me again.”  Then the “memory” faded, and miraculously, my right shoulder was completely cured.  Never another pain.

I stood there in a bit of a daze.  What the hell had just happened?  Was that girl me?  I wasn’t scared; more I had the feeling of knowing that my body had revealed something to me, and because I gave it permission, something had been released.  It was a pivotal experience affirming my life philosophy, which I have incorporated deeply since, that our bodies are the key to so much wisdom.

Was what happened a playing-out of some kind of cellular or collective memory? Or did I actually live through that?  When I was called “witch” in the tiny town in Colorado where I used to live, was it bringing forth another wave of memories that were asking to be acknowledged and released through me?  If so, what did this mean to me personally?  Why is this such a prominent and repeated feature in my life?

And that’s why I am asking these questions of all of you wise people, and why I feel the need to explore this line of thought.  What is a witch, really?  Where did the word come from, what are its origins?  And when did it become a word for something that was evil, scary, and needing to be put to death?  

And do any of you have these spontaneous memories or experiences?  If so, I would be so honored to hear them.

I’m not a scholar on Christian holy days; I observe spiritual traditions that make sense to me, that have personal meaning to me.  Until yesterday, Epiphany flew by unnoticed. 

The 12^th day of Christmas, Epiphany is the oldest of the Christmas festivals and originally the most important.  It is the day traditionally celebrated in Christian culture as the day the Magi arrived to behold the Christ child.

“The word epiphany comes from the Greek noun epiphaneia, which means “shining forth,” “manifestation,” or “revelation.”  In the ancient Greco-Roman world, an epiphany referred to the appearance of one of the gods to mortals.  Since Hellenistic kings and Roman emperors were considered by many to be gods, the word epiphany was also used as a term for divine majesty.”  (source: http://www.stpaulskingsville.org/epiphany.htm)

Yesterday was a day in which it felt like many veils were lifted between my eyes and the larger spiritual container I live in.  I had so many revelations, and indeed, one very important “manifestation”, that I once again feel affirmed in my belief that there is a larger energy that holds us all, and that if we align with it, magic can happen.

I sat in the morning for my inner guidance time, which I typically create several times per day (and always at night before bed so that I can bring my consciousness to anything pertinent while my body sleeps).  This is my time to be still, listen and feel my connection to the Whole and a larger perspective on my life. My usual pathway of access opened up, and I felt the familiar alignment click into place.  As I awaited the presence of higher consciousness in my mind, I felt a new (yet very old and familiar), somewhat different presence move in from the left of center, supplanting my usual interface with the Divine.

“Who is here?” I asked.  A vast, deep silence, a feeling of gravity, immense power in my belly and sweetness in my heart was the response.  I sat quietly straining to hear with my inner ears, but I couldn’t quite make out the name.  I asked, “Are you here to aid me in my highest good?”  Yes, I was told, and I felt a rush of goodwill pouring through me.  “Are you accountable to the light?”  I asked.  I heard, No, I am accountable to the dark. 

This is when I started squirming; my early Christian preschool indoctrination formed my young, developing mind into a good versus evil bent, and I struggle to this day with unconsciously perceiving light as good and dark as bad, even though I know consciously that this is not true. 

My resonance lies with the yin/yang symbol, in which the darkness and the light are simply two halves of existence that balance one another, and are therefore necessary for the Whole.  It is our small, human minds that place judgments on qualities of energy such as light and dark, calling them names and putting them in little boxes so that we can feel more in control. 

I have also studied the Goddess traditions extensively, and know that darkness, a symbol for the womb, for the void, for the night, for the face of the new moon, has been vilified ever since patriarchy reared its adolescent grab for power on the planet.  I know from hard won experience that anything we demonize warrants a closer look to see what we are projecting onto it.

I heard this Being that had entered my holy space speak that it was accountable to the dark, and took a breath.  “Who are you?” I asked again.

I am the Dark Mother, She answered.

I sat quietly, stunned at the simplicity and precision of this revelation.  I then proceeded to ask several clarifying questions, the first of which were asked to make sure I was safe to be interacting with this powerful yet benevolent energy, and the latter of which resulted from my increasing feelings of bliss and excitement.  Many moments later, I was in tears as accepted Her, and felt myself in the arms of my truest Mother.

Over the course of the day as I opened further to this awareness, my epiphanies ranged from seeing how the Dark Mother had been in my life, (very clearly had I eyes to see Her) for several years, to feelings of being Home.  The work I had begun in 2005 to embody the Divine Feminine was inspired by Her.  Images of the Black Madonna, which I’d written an extensive article about in 2007, flashed through my mind.  The many essays and radio shows and personal experiences of the Sacred Feminine that I’d processed and offered to the world as a road map fell into place. 

As a woman who resonates deeply (as well as recognizes within myself) the Sacred Feminine energies, I have spent time getting to know the several faces of the Goddess.  I remember in 1999 that Mary the Mother was the first face of the feminine I began to interact with as an adult.  She was safe, a clean symbol of goodness and light, and a good start for a woman fearful of her own feminine energy.

As a child, Isis was a frequent companion, but over the years I lost my sense of her.  She came roaring back into my life in 2001, when I got the tap on my shoulder to come out of hiding as a healer, and opened my energy work practice in downtown Asheville NC. 

Then other faces of the Goddess began to emerge in my consciousness.  Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Innana, Brigid, Tara, Cerridwen, Persephone, Sedna, Lilith, Mary Magdalene, Amaterasu, GrandMother Moon, Spider Woman and more.  As each of these treasured and varied Faces of Her visited me, I interacted with their archetype and integrated them into my own awareness, making those aspects within me conscious.  It has been a remarkable journey of awakening. 

However, my names for Her never included the Dark Mother, perhaps because of my subconscious association of dark with evil. 

I had heard of the Dark Mother as a name for the fierce Goddess Kali, She who oversees death and rebirth, and so I had approached the Kali archetype with a large perimeter and a considerable dose of respect. 

I knew the acknowledgement and appreciation of the darkness that comes with shamanic practice, in which the journeying through the various inner worlds must be discerningly and powerfully navigated. 

I had experienced the darkness of entering initiations, and coming through into the light, being reborn. 

And I had experienced the darkness that came with fully exploring the archetypes of some of the previously mentioned faces of the Divine Feminine….darkness in the sense of exploring in unfathomable places in my psyche, such as deep, winding caves and caverns, traversed along with my sister Innana, and at the bottom of the sea, along with my underwater kin, Sedna.  Darkness in the sense of moving through what cannot be seen with the eyes, but must be felt and experienced through the inner worlds, where great treasure is yielded for those who have the courage to undertake the journey.

How magical that on this day of January 6^th, 2010, which I have just now learned is called Epiphany in the Christian tradition, that I would be visited by my own “magi”, or sage, in the manifestation of the Dark Mother, bestowing gifts upon Her child.  Thank you, All That Is.

a story about searching for one’s lost tribe

Wingapo Cheskchamay (“Welcome, All Friends” in Powhatan language)

I share this excerpt from my book with you now because I have lately struck a chord in some of my posts….there are others besides me who do not feel that they fit in, and are looking for their tribe.

Being “lost” is a kind of dramatic tale to weave…..it appeals to many. There are certainly lots of stories in history of “lost tribes” and their tragic search to come home.

I am a prime example of this in a genealogical sense….I see no separation between what lives in my blood, what lives in my mind, and what lives in my heart…..the greatness of my spirit holds all aspects of myself within its hands.

However, I choose that my having been “lost” has brought me many gifts and learnings, and that in the end, I have not been “lost” at all.

An excerpt from “The Blue Eyed Indian”
By Licia Berry www.liciaberry.com
Copyright 2008

“My European ancestors were among the first to arrive at the remote barrier islands of what is now called North Carolina’s Outer Banks. In the 1500’s, the islands were alive with the Croatoan Indian hunters and fisherman who scoured the maritime forests and the rich waters for bountiful fish and game. When the fair-skinned people with the blue eyes arrived from the giant crafts on the water, my Indian ancestors were intrigued, and being polite, welcomed the visitors to their island. They feasted together, they showed the guests their lovely island (like we would for any tourist to our home town), and eventually, some of them fell in love.

Some of the fair skinned people feathered into life with the Indians; others went north to create the English settlement of Roanoke Island. This settlement later became “The Lost Colony”, when, fearing they had been abandoned by the English and needing help to survive, they returned south to live with the friendly Croatoan Indians in what is now Buxton, NC. These are the people I come from.

When the next larger waves of Europeans would arrive to the New World a generation or two later, they wrote with their quill pens in their journals of the peculiar “Blue Eyed Indians” they encountered along the North Carolina coast.

As more Europeans arrived, the goodness of the land on the Outer Banks was coveted for its rich resources and its location as a close ally to the ports in Virginia. The Indians began to feel the conflict that these fair skinned people brought into their midst. Skirmishes broke out, and eventually, the fair skinned people overtook the islands that had been occupied by Indians for 10,000 years.

The blue-eyeds among the Indians had a choice to make; were they white, or Indian? They would lose their lands on the island if they sided with their red-skinned kin….Would they survive if they sided with their European blood? For some, the call to explore the blood of their parents or grandparents, those who had come from far across the waters, brought a certain sense of longing, and they stayed with the whites. A few elected to go with the tribes, who retreated inland to nurse their wounds and to make plans about how to carry on. Some went north to now Virginia to be absorbed into the great Powhatan nation; others remained in the woods and wetlands of inland coast and eventually disappeared into the trees with their culture. The Croatoan had lost their best fishing grounds, lost many of their children and suffered humiliation after opening their arms and hearts to these fair-skinned people. But those who were part Indian, those who elected to stay with the Europeans, lost the precious knowledge and support of their Indian culture.

Generations of Europeans came to the Outer Banks and settled on this wild coast, making their living fishing those waters once enjoyed by the Powhatan, and scavenging off of the hundreds of ships that floundered on the Diamond Shoals, earning the nickname “The Graveyard of the Atlantic”. My father’s side of the family still remains on this remote outpost, miles off the mainland of our country. They speak in a soft brogue that reminds of me of Scotland, England and a faint tongue that is lost, the language extinct except for a few words. They are stoic and stubborn, refusing to leave the island when hurricanes bear down on the fragile sands. They also don’t like to admit that they are part Indian.

In fact, I didn’t know that we had any Indian blood until I was in my thirties, when a rebellious aunt whispered to me of our history. I have observed a bigotry and arrogance in some of these noble Hatteras people, as if they are better than every one else, perhaps because of what they have survived as they eke out their livings in this harsh place. I have never understood this stubborn need to protect our “heritage” as all-European (or, all white as they would say). Perhaps when they were forced to make the decision to be “white” in order to keep their homes and land on Hatteras Island, a psychic door closed on any other possibility.

But I was different.

All of my life the spirits of the wind, the water, the rocks and trees and earth have spoken to me. As a child, I was a wild nature girl; tangled hair and dirty face were my costume….I fought taking baths and showers, preferring to remain sister to the dirt. In frustration and in answer to my defiant nature, my mother chopped all my hair off at age 6. I tried to get lost in the woods and never could, because I knew the way home. The animals were my guides and messengers. The forest whispered of its love for me. The universe supported me, and Nature was my friend.

Yet, I was so different than the family who surrounded me. I didn’t fit; when I spoke of the subtle energy that I tapped into, I was ignored or strongly corrected. I wasn’t hearing and sensing and seeing those things; I was making things up. I got quieter about my feelings, but they never went away. Under the protection of the dense brush and out of sight of my elders, I performed ceremonies to honor dead birds or lizards that I found, to listen to and guide the ghosts that needed help to find their way home, to dance with all of creation as my cohort in life. No one had taught me these things; I just knew how to do them. And then came my initiation into the shamanic world….”

To be continued….

I was prompted in my inner guidance time this morning to write about the immense amount of subconscious process that I am going through.  I asked, “What about it, any particular theme?”  I was told, “Just tell people that it’s happening.”

Well, okay….I am now going to tell you that I am undergoing deep subconscious work, but will spare you the details of it for now (that I find so interesting).  Maybe the details will come later.

It is happening below the surface, and feels way out and big, like soul kind of work.  I am going through the motions of my day, feeling my feelings, functioning, being present to what needs to get done (I am a mom and beloved and friend and volunteer and run a household and write and, and, and….after all), but I am also doing this deep inner work right now. 

I don’t know if I am that different from other people.  I believe that we are all undergoing deep, immense change right now, whether we are aware of it or not.  I believe that there is a larger collective experience of inner limits being challenged and that this is why I see so many beautiful “falling-apart” experiences.  Sure, it’s uncomfortable, even painful when your world unhinges and things you thought were real and concrete crumble before your eyes….but I feel this is a healthy thing.  I feel we are all being freed from our inner prisons, if we will but walk out of the open doors.

Maybe what makes me a little bit different from the majority of folks is that I am aware of these energy processes going on, within and without me, and attempt to describe them.  I feel I am creating a road map of long forgotten territory, and leaving breadcrumbs for others to follow, if they so desire.  I know a very few others that are doing this, too….we feel cycles and movement and process going on, and attempt to describe what we are seeing, feeling and experiencing to the rest of the world as a service and as self preservation. 

I think about this stuff a lot; well, all the time.  My inner life is very rich, and always has been.  I was told by my good friend Madelyn Aslan, a very gifted and well known psychic, that if I wrote every minute of every day for the rest of my life I would not be able to empty out all the thoughts and awarenesses in my mind.  This feels true to me; I’d better get on the ball. 

So, I’m going to describe the process I’m undergoing right now since I was guided to, as best I can.  Bear with me. 

I feel distinctly that I am here, in my life, doing what needs to be done, smiling at people (most of the time), being out in the world…..and at the same time there is another me, much, much bigger than the me that is driving the car or going to the grocery store or having intellectual debates on FaceBook, who is conducting a grand symphony, and yet I am also all the players in it.  Do you get that image? 

I’ve had glimpses lately of what it must feel like to be the Source of All Things.  I feel myself being inclusive of so many perspectives and so many life experiences…. And understanding them.  I have felt that I was big enough to hold all of the world’s diverse life forms and their instincts, their beliefs, their habits.  Recognizing my own “Source-ness” has made me wonder if that is what we are all being challenged to do right no…to open up, to surrender our little tiny boxes that we put around us to make us feel safe, so that we can live bigger, more fulfilling, more loving lives.

Back in 2000 when my spiritual journey took a strong upturn in intensity, I had the very profound experience over a couple of years of feeling that I was unearthing something that had been buried in the earth for many thousands of years.  I had dreams of a language of light that I read in great tomes, and my voice wanted to sing languages I did not know.  My belly felt like a great black cauldron inside that was very full and wanted to express through my throat and voice and sound.  Once, I leaned against a very old oak tree on our property, and while I did I experienced making contact with the tree’s essence.  I felt it awaken underneath me, and we recognized each other…then suddenly, I saw in my mind’s eye that the tree was transmitting symbols from the ground up, in the same language of light that I had seen in my dreams.  Somehow, my being willing to be open to this was what opened the door for this information to move upward, into the light.  This was a somewhat new experience at the time for me, to be awake to a larger collective and psychic process so clearly.

A couple of years ago I had a taste of this feeling of deep subconscious process going on…it was in January of 2007 that it started, when I was first in touch with an biological Aunt that I had not been in touch with for many years.  Being in her presence initiated a cascade of what I can only describe as inner avalanches, and I tumbled down, down, down with the debris that was dislodged, settling eventually down at the bottom of the sea.

I was under this inner sea for many months…I had the distinct feeling that I was swimming at the bottom of a great ocean, exploring caves and communing with the sea creatures, many of whom became my helpers in retrieving gems buried in the sand.  The collage above is the one I made to describe that experience.  But I was living and breathing in the Upper World, the one where the sun is shining, and I was talking to people, and going about my day…..this was all occurring at the same time that a deep inner process was going on.  It reminds me of the desert, a vast dry hot and seemingly barren place, which was once a vast sea teeming with life.  What is apparent is not always what is truly going on.

My current process here at the end of 2009 feels a little different…I don’t quite have the visceral experience of being under a great sea…I feel more like I am under the earth, in some great caverns miles below the surface.  I feel the pressure of the ground above me.  It is so quiet and so still there….and dark, yes, sometimes.  I am feeling my way.  It feels like I am down here (there) moving forward with my hands outstretched, occasionally stumbling over rocks or rises in the cavern floors.  But then I will see a mysterious light around the corner or at the end of some tunnel, and it calls me, and it is my soul telling me that all is well, to rest, to trust.  I arrive into a room that is lit by a fantastic purple series of cascading lights, falling like stars, except that it doesn’t end.  The trails from these purple stars create a matrix, a kind of grid, which makes me think very much of the Great Web of life.  What does this all mean?  I am not certain, but it is a fascinating journey. 

And so, my mind wonders why I was guided to tell you all about this subterranean process happening for me.  Is it perhaps because you are wondering if you are losing your mind because you feel something happening to you too?  Because you feel the slippery slope of your old world crumbling away and you think you are alone in this experience?  Is it because you feel something deeper happening within you but don’t know what to name it?  Is it just to give you a piece of information to consider?  Is it because I am able to put some words around something that is very hard to explain?  Or is it because there are others in the world who are experiencing this thing that I am, and that I need the reassurance that I am not alone?

 

 

Having come through 2 of the hardest and most growthful years that I can remember, I am seeing things 20/20, of course.  All of the cycles we have been through are making sense.  Here at the wrap-up of the end of 3 seven-year cycles, a shorter 11 year cycle, and even shorter cycles within those larger ones, my animal relations are showing up to show their support, speak their messages and offer their medicine and teachings.

 

It started a few weeks ago when Peter was in California to pick up the RV we’d stored there in March (thinking we would be back).  I awoke early one morning to the sound of a female voice saying “Relations” insistently, and 3 knocks on the wall above my head (the wall is the same my pillows rest on and is an outer wall facing west).  I woke up immediately, knowing there was something special going on.  I wrapped up in my robe and walked outside to the area outside my bedroom.  From that vantage point, I looked to the north and saw 3 pronghorn antelopes clustered together around our well head.  They were all looking at me, as if they had been expecting me.  Now antelope are curious creatures, so they will study you for a bit before moving on (unless you scare them off).  But these three…there was something about the way they stood together there and watched me, as if there were a conversation going on.  I watched them and listened with my heart…there were no words at that point, but a feeling of having been “seen” and “received”.  They began to disperse, and I thanked them for their medicine.  Later, when I sat down in conversation with my inner guidance, I was told that the antelope medicine for me in particular was this:

 

-isolate yourself

-be thick skinned like the antelope-with a thick hide, you can survive in the harshest of conditions and tough times

-don’t be so easily influenced by outside forces

-your psychic awareness is increasing

 

I was interested in this guidance as it pertained easily with our situation here in Del Norte CO.  I set the intention to internalize this “medicine” from my Brothers the 3 bachelor antelope that woke me that morning.  They have subsequently visited many times, hanging around our 40 acres as if to make sure I am getting the message.

 

Then, the following week, early one morning I heard a “screeeeee!!!” outside and ran out to see 3 golden eagles circling over our land. I watched as one of them dive bombed another, screeching….but it all seemed in play, as they flew peacefully off to the north once I watched them for a few minutes, where it appeared that they were joined by a fourth eagle. It is unusual to see eagles flying together, so I took this to be another opportunity to listen for a message.  When I asked my inner guidance what my particular message was from the 3 eagles, I was told:

 

-that eagle is a symbol for divine masculine energy, the will and ability to get things done

-to call on eagle for strength, action, focus, determination and perseverance

-that the lack of energy and confidence I was experiencing would be remedied by the “masculine” energy of eagle

 

I chose to internalize this medicine as well, and found that I reached out and asked 40 women to pray for me for these qualities.  It worked!  My energy took off, and my ability to stay focused rather than confused and lethargic was remarkably different.  I also sought the counsel of a lovely Ute medicine man, who assisted me in bringing insight to an outstanding issue and balancing our land.  His piece of the puzzle proved to be very important.

 

By this time, I became intrigued with the consistent number THREE that was showing up.  I have always loved the number three, and according to numerologists, 3 is my “life path number”.  I did some research and found that the number 3 is associated with:

 

-the Trinity (interpreted in many ways-Body, Mind Spirit/Masculine, Feminine, Divine Union/beginning, middle, end/birth, life, death)

-3-D world, physical manifestation

-movement and ability to overcome duality

-creativity, growth, synthesis

-completion of a cycle

 

My youngest son wondered aloud what the next set of three would be…he intuited that there was a third chapter to the story.  And there was!  As I have been busy watching for the third set of 3, they were right under my nose the whole time.  

 

We experienced owning a hot tub for the first time in our lives here at our home in CO.  Our favorite times to steep in the hot brew are in the dark of night, when the Milky Way is so intense it feels smothering, and the early morning with our tea, when it is a very active time for the birds. 

 

At the edge of the patio, about 30 feet from the hot tub, are two bluebird houses.  They are inhabited by the bluebirds in early spring, who raise their babies then move to the gutters of the house.  Then the summer tenants of swallows move in to raise their young.  We watch with interest as the transition takes place.  There is much squabbling and flitting about, but eventually there is coexistence.

 

But there was something special about it this year.  Perhaps it was because of the forced stillness of my ankle injury, perhaps because it was just the right time….but I noticed the birds behavior with more interest.  The bluebirds alit outside my kitchen window and, head cocked, peered in with a seeming purpose at me while I cooked or washed at the sink.  The swallows circled repeatedly over my head while in the hot tub with equal intentionality, as if they were trying to get my attention.  I noticed, but I was looking for something “more grand” or unusual for the last chapter of three.  Would it be a trio of elk, or a bobcat family, or elegant hawks? 

 

It finally dawned on me today as I walked toward the north on our property; three bluebirds, a mother, father and fledgling child came from behind me from their perch on my house and alit in an olive tree directly in front of me.  I stopped and watched them; I felt an invitation to expansion in my heart.  OH!  I can be a bit thick at times, such an introvert that I am wrapped, fascinated, in my inner thoughts, and will sometimes miss the obvious in the “outer world”.  Suddenly, I saw the 3 swallows that had been flying around my head for days in my mind, replayed the mornings of watching the swallows feed their babies in the houses and the first one emerge victorious, calling out as it flew for its first time, flying gloriously with its parents. 3 bluebirds, 3 swallows.

 

Helllllloooooo… it is these common, “every day” creatures that are the final message of grace for my ending of this cycle in my life.  I sat this morning with my inner guidance after pulling information about these sweet birds, and this is what I was told applied to me:

 

-swallows migrate for thousands of miles to always return home safely and are a symbol of constancy, faith and fidelity

-bluebirds are associated with happiness, rebirth, and prosperity and are a sign of goodness in the future

-bluebirds and swallows both have associations with home, hearth, and love and loyalty to the family

-bluebirds and swallows are both ancient symbols of spring, hope, resurrection and new life

 

And the REAL kicker:

 

-swallows and bluebirds are interchangeably associated as a frequent motif for tattoos on sailors.  It was said that after a journey of 5000 sea miles, a sailor earned a swallow or bluebird tattoo on one side of his chest, and another at the completion of another 5000 or more miles.  They were a harbinger of land being near, of a long journey coming to an end…

 

I am almost in tears as I write this.  The amount of support and love I am being given at this time of completion of this cycle in my life is almost overwhelming.  And it is also affirming of how connected we are if we but allow ourselves to be.  I am so grateful to All of Life, all of my relations, whether winged or two, four and no-legged, for their reflection that I am loved, and that all is well.

I have had the delight recently of being reminded of my connection to the All That Is through the visitations of several of the two and four legged family.  (Wow, when was the last time I said I was DELIGHTED about something?  It has been a long time!)  These visitations are nothing short of miraculous to me, and a wonderful 3-D reminder that I am part of the fabric of All Creation, and that that fabric supports me….all that falls to me is to pay attention.

 

I have been a devotee of symbolism ever since I learned in my AP English classes in high school that there was a name for “something having deeper meaning than what was apparent”.  I have been having conversation with the energy of …everything… ever since I can remember, and could feel that there was wisdom to be gained from listening and acknowledging universal intelligence in its many faces.  But it’s called symbolism?  Wow, what a lark that this was a recognized phenomenon!  I have subsequently studied symbolism for years, delighting (there’s that word again!) in Jungian psychology, mythology, Clarissa Pinkola Estes’ works, and the medicine of animals, plants and all of nature.  I now see everything as a symbol, as a message from the All That Is, as a connection to a deeper meaning that can be interpreted particular to me and my situation.

 

It was with delight (okay I have said it 3 times) that I recently stumbled upon Avia Venefica, a woman after my own heart.  Fiercely devoted to symbolism and an accomplished writer, she publishes 3 lovely blogs that are practical and grounded yet deeply honoring of the spiritual and symbolic connections of All Creation.  Her presence in the world gives me joy and strength; a sister from across the pond, my world has grown and become more “right” because of her clear-eyed wisdom (dare I say she’s delightful?)  I have found some helpful answers lately in her work; I highly recommend her symbolism blog.

 

More to follow about the animals that have come to offer their messages to me in the last weeks.

About two weeks ago, the sun shone through after several days of rain.  The soft sea air buoyed us as we left the RV for a bike ride, the first in several days.  The boys and I had been stir crazy with the weather, and the RV gets tight in the best of times.  Our bike ride took us to the Pismo State Park, right on the coast; as we rode the monarch butterflies, which winter over here due to the mild climate, flitted across our paths, their wings infused with the light of the sun. 

I will remember this joyous bike ride with my boys for a long time, as it will be my last for several months. 

We returned to the RV to get more school work done, and as the boys worked, Peter said he was going on a ride.  I asked if I could go, too….more rather than less exercise is a good rule for me.  He welcomed me; I threw my shoes on and, a smile on my face, stepped out the door, placing my left foot on the top outer step of the RV.

Apparently, I put my heel down on the edge of what turned out to be a sandy step…before I knew what happened, I was flying.  I felt pain, but more shock of having fallen down the stairs, as I am not one who hurts myself much.  When I got to the bottom, I felt that something was wrong; besides the heart pounding from the surprise, I looked down and saw that my right foot was turned the wrong way, and the end of my tibia, the strong inner leg bone that we see as our shin, poking unnaturally through the left side of my ankle. 

I will spare you the details of my strange calm as I gave orders to my family members, the transfer to the hospital ER, the relocation of the ankle and the immediate surgery, all of which I am in the process of writing in great detail as therapeutic work.  More of note is the inner process that has been accelerated due to the whirlwind destruction of my bodily innocence and the surrender required to allow other people to help you when you are accustomed to surviving on your own. 

I have always been a very strong and healthy person, having very few accidental injuries in my life, relegated to the occasional burn or cut. Even in my rash of car accidents in my barely-present early twenties, I walked away without even a bruise.  Never having broken a bone or been to the hospital except for birthing Jess and a small cut that required stitches when I was 11, this accident ‘broke’ my vision of myself as invulnerable.  The healing at physical, emotional, mental and spiritual levels that is unfolding inside me through this event is profound.  To me, that’s the juicy stuff; to me, this is where the magic is.

My rigidity in my life has held me up when there was no one else to do it; my parents were actively abusive alcoholics, and there was no safe place for me to be vulnerable.  I had to get tough to make it through my childhood, and I took that toughness with me into my growing life, perceiving through my filters of experience that the world was not a safe place.  Of course, as a result of that filter being in place, I helped create more of that belief, which reinforced my toughness.  Over time, my heart has closed except to those who have proven that I can trust them.  My tests, although unconscious, are rigorous and thorough…my tests weed out those who might make a passing grade from the die-hards.  Only those who truly and passionately love me unconditionally make it through my inner gauntlet.  I am civil to the others, but they will never know the real me, as I don’t trust them to treat me with respect and safety.

And I put myself on the line in these tests; I share myself and make myself vulnerable, then watch what they do with what I have given to them.  Some show me their trustworthiness right away by not being able to hear what I am sharing, or rejecting it outright.  Others are a little “craftier”…they listen and appear to treat my sharing with tenderness and care, but later use it against me.  I give the gift of myself to those who do not deserve my trust to prove to myself that they aren’t trustworthy.  It is a back-asswards pattern of behavior learned when a child cannot trust the two people she depends on to keep her safe in the world.  This event has brought this pattern into clear light, for which I am grateful. 

I now have a bionic ankle, complete with “golden” plate and six “golden” screws (the golden is in my mental picture so that I can accept and make friends with the foreign objects in my body).  I must remain “no weight bearing” for 8 weeks, at which point I will begin to learn to walk again.  In the mean time, I hobble around on crutches and spend a lot of time with my foot up on the couch.  Well, I was complaining about not finding the time to write…now I am writing more than ever.  The insights are coming so thick and fast I can scarcely write them all down. 

And so, in moments of extreme grace and clarity, I am actually grateful that this has happened.  Oh, I have my moments of feeling like a victim, feeling sorry for myself, feeling angry and sad….but all of those are indications of a deeper healing in myself that can occur, if I am just willing to follow the pointers to the place inside where acceptance and insight abound.   

Thank you, my right ankle, for making this sacrifice in service to the whole of me, my inner and outer community.  Like our indigenous ancestors did in holy ceremony, you offered flesh to show how willing you were to put yourself on the line in order for healing to occur on the larger level.  I humbly choose to make the most of this offering!