alone & alive

"…Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you."— David Whyte

As an act of self-love, I have stepped out of myself and have joined a few courses to help me reconnect and deepen my spiritual beliefs. I was browsing through my Instagram feed and came across some lovely spiritual journaling pages. In the description, I noticed that the poster was offering free admission to one of their courses and I had to look into it. From there, my Soul took over and here I am.

I have always considered being alone as a sign of weakness - I've felt, for most of my life, that my worth is defined by my relationship status. If I am single, that means that no one wants me or appreciates me. I have felt more lonely while being married than I ever felt while being single. This is not the way it is supposed to be. Though I have always found solace in having my own time, I have also feared it with an intensity that sometimes scares me.

I often use the metaphor of dark, cold water or darkness and shadows creeping up behind someone to explain depression, but I have yet to explore (in writing) the cathartic nature of darkness, the healing that it offers. There are different types of darkness, definitely - shadows versus the night versus the inky black of depression.

Being alone does not have to be terrifying; as an introvert, I am well aware of the energising nature of spending the day in quiet solitude, but feeling as if no one will ever choose you is where that solitude takes a horrible turn. Being cradled in darkness is often my preferred state - I do my best work, am the most inspired, at night; but when that darkness no longer cradles you but strangles you into silence, that is when it becomes something nearly uncontrollable.

photo: artur rutkowski

My journey inward - and downward - has always been a path through a dark forest. This journey is also a fragmented one; I may stray from the path, get distracted by the flora and fauna around me, but I always find my way back and continue.

The tales I weave have always been a contribution to this journey, and when I find myself unable to write I know that it is a period of trailblazing. I may lose myself in the brush, but a few sweet words can so easily draw me back. I feel the most alive when I am called back and my own gentle and dreamy words flow from my soul. I have entered into a period of reflection, of continuing down that dark path in the forest, inward and downward into my soul.

truth

photo: splashi

I have spent years fighting against the truth that my soul sings. I have walked away from things that I felt were wrong, that would not serve me on the path I was walking - with everything happening in my life right now, I find myself stepping into the fog of uncertainty in order to find those truths once again.

In times of great stress and change and sorrow, I am drawn back to the candles and crystals and the magic around me. I am welcomed by the warmth of the Sun and the acceptance of the Moon, and the Stars above me speak poetry to my soul.

It has been difficult to single out a truth that I have hidden from both myself and those around me. I am an open and honest person - there are times when I have been told that I share too much too soon with people.

photo: leoleobobeo

Perhaps the only truth that I have yet to speak is that I do not know. I am constantly asked questions, and though I wish desperately to answer honestly, I lie - How are you doing today? I am doing great! In reality, I do not know how I am today or any day. I am confused, I am in pain, and I am struggling. I have so many concerns, but there are few people that I can open up to and lay bare my fears and worries.

soul & ego

Speaking to my soul is a terrifying challenge. My higher self is a very quiet person, a very simple person. She is not too forthcoming with answers and requires a bit of coaxing before she is willing to agree to anything. Her lack of verbal, or typical, communication skills has made reconnecting with her difficult in the past - but it seems that creative expression is the way to interact with her.

I have spent years perfecting my ego - my social mask, the image I have created for myself - because I was always told that no one would understand the true me, the me that begs daily to be let out. Over these last few years, I have met many people who are more than willing to work at understanding me, to be there even though I may be having a dark day.

I have spent very little time working with my soul. I am consumed by my ego on a daily basis. Though there are times when I wish I could cast my ego aside, I know that it is necessary for my soul to express herself in the physical world.

There are times, each year, when I meet with my soul, having the full intent of reconnecting and learning to balance the influence of my ego. And, as if it were destined from the beginning, something comes along that convinces me to put the masks back on, to hide, to shy away from my spirit and her wisdom.

I have sorely missed digital art, and when I first saw the double exposures floating around online, I was intrigued, but I did not attempt to create one. Today, thinking on the topic of soul and ego, it felt right to try my hand at the technique. It was a treat, and it helped me to consider the connection between the ego (the body in the images) and the soul (the landscapes exposed over the bodies).

detox

There is so much darkness arising in the world - I cannot say that I pay much attention to headlines or politics, but I am not entirely ignorant of the things that are happening in my country. In the midst of everything happening around me, I have found myself wandering in the afternoon and getting lost in thoughts of things I haven't lit on for almost a year. I have lost - and found - myself so many times over the years, and it is time I regain that connection with myself.

It was the dry season on the central coast of California when my mother packed the car up and took me down the coast to Big Sur - crashing waves to the west and the sound of the waterfall thundering to the east filled my ears and the promise of exploring one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen excited me. Our hike was steep and difficult for my small body, but being with my mother out in nature fuelled the experience. Once at the top of the hill that we had challenged ourselves with climbing, I looked out over... clouds. There was a sea of white and grey clouds stretching out forever before me, and I could see nothing below them. We were so high in the hills that the world was wrapped in the foggy blanket.

I felt alive, on top of that hill. I felt complete. I felt all of the energy of the world held within the cradle of the cliffs and ocean that I knew was below us. I felt the divine energy of the universe around me. I was surrounded by the dry, golden grass that grew on the hill - but, even though the life seemed to have been taken away from the ground, I knew that it was still there. I felt the heartbeat of the land, the breath of the wind whispering and speaking wisdom to my young soul.

My mother's lessons on the divine were simple back then - spending time in nature was how she taught me about spirituality. They were profound lessons, and I will never forget any of them because of their simplicity. I knew that I was connected to the world around me, and I knew the truth that my soul spoke.

I have often wondered where (and when) the disconnect between who I am now, and who I was then, occurred. It has always saddened me that I am this cynical, unbelieving adult when I was such a free-spirited child. During a recent meditation to find the answer to those exact questions, I learned the answer.

Once my mother had started teaching me about the divine, I began paying attention to those around me and their beliefs - I wanted to learn as much as I could about this connection I had with the energy around us. During Sunday school (my mother was very open and supportive of my learning about different belief systems), I let slip my experiences with the divine. When asked what belief system we practised at home, I was honest with the teacher and told her that my mother was a Witch (my mother's label for herself). I was shunned and attacked for this, and began to believe that my personal experiences with the divine were wrong. It was a painful experience to have at such a young age, to be taught not to listen to my soul, to the wind and the waves and singing of thunder on the horizon. Everything that had once been so familiar to me was beginning to darken, to appear false. Since that day, in Sunday school, I have struggled with my soul, with my connection to the divine. I have fought against the pull on my heart to dance in the rain and sing songs to flowers.

It is time for me to reclaim myself, my soul - to relearn how to listen to myself and reconnect with the energy of the universe, with the divine. I am terrified that, once I open myself, I will no longer know what is what in my life. I am terrified of the changes that I know this process will bring about, but at the same time, I am ready to come home to my soul. I have missed the connection I once had to the divine.

The women on my mother's side taught me to trust my intuition, to listen to my soul - my soul has always known what is right. From a young age, a curiosity for the unknown was fostered in me, and I am working on bringing those magical aspects back into my life. It is the little things, the simple things - like a single tree blooming when the breeze still chills the bones, bringing the inspiration of Spring to the world despite Winter's desire to keep the land prisoner.