It is officially the last two weeks of 2019. Passing into our collective 20’s. Not just me, but us. All of us, together, doing a thing. We are really evolving as a species. You are evolving as a person. Some of us felt an increase this year. Some of us felt a decrease. All of us felt one another. We kept reaching for each other through the storms of today. Over and over I touched you and you in turn touched me. We made each other laugh. And… often, more than any of us ever wanted, we made each other cry. We also learned that that we were traumatized. Many of us got diagnosed. Some of us found answers. And a select few got healed. We all learned that we are all, collectively, in pain as a species. That it isn’t just the women. And it isn’t just the blacks. And it isn’t just the gays. And it isn’t just the homeless. It’s all of us. We all hurt. In some deep way. In such a deep way that it makes us lash out at those around us. That our pain travels so deep to our core that it causes us to hurt those who might otherwise truly be of assistance to us. We do not collectively know and understand the depth, breadth and complexity of the issue of healing corporate trauma. We do know that it exists and whenever a puzzle is to be solved, an outer vision of the expectation or the wide view as a guide to show us what it’s supposed to look like. That’s where we come in. Dreamers. Those who are limited by their capacity for movement have the gift of dream and imagination. They are those who are tasked with telling us how it is supposed to look, so that we, who are capable can adjust course and take guide from those who are tasked with the dreaming. We look for dreamers. Those who are trapped in feeble vessels of clay, bodies that are disagreeable and do not allow for greater access to the outside world. Those who are called to dive towards inward consciousness. To explore the inside of life and what it means to live with abandon or regret. Our infirm our are key. They are not the infirm they believe themselves to be. That is our own limited thinking, as a species, on what capability truly is and what is not. What if, the mind was more powerful than the arm? What if the brain was the superior muscle to the gluteus maximus? What if you’re not losing as much as you think when you can no longer move your arms, or your legs, or even your ears. What are you missing? If you look sideways instead of up and down your perspective will change. I’ve learned in 2019 to flip my world when it’s not working for me. I’ve learned that a woman will never know her worth until you place a damn crown on her head. Crown your women. Raise up your intellectuals. Stop rewarding the brute for damaging his brain. Stop rewarding those in your midst who celebrate commercialism with their drug of choice. Make different choices. Behave differently than you did last week. Behave differently than the people who raised you. Stop honoring the thief at the bank and start honoring the thief at your table. It doesn’t matter how he got to your table. Feed him. You do not need to be kind to your oppressor. You do not need to be sweet to your abuser. It's time to stop breaking bread with abusers, misogynists, racists and all the other ists until you are healed and called to do so. Practice kindness at your table. Practice kindness at your job. Practice kindness in all your circles. Heal yourself in 2020
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Recently I had an opportunity to listen, without debate or interruption to the “other side”. I’m always in the market for building a new bridge. Yes, the old one was broken, blown up, burned down and destroyed. We were taught the art of progress by our elders. Our elders are hurting because of the world they created and they can’t see the depth of their creation. The progress they worked for, is not the one they were promised or believed they would live. We should all stop expecting our elders to hear us. We should all stop fighting with our elders. They aren’t listening to us. They weren’t taught to listen to us. They are who they were raised, groomed and programmed to be. Self-entitled narcissists. Nobody is more perfect than them. They are the “greatest generation”. They believe that they are the greatest that has ever lived. How can you ever compete? How you can teach the unteachable? And why are you still trying? Just because we stopped getting the invitations from our elders doesn’t mean we get to repeat their mistakes. Most of us have solidly walked away from such narcissm and are seeking a much more humble, communal existence. If we choose to repeat these cycles, our grandchildren will not be visiting with us as well. The key, is listening. Listening for the purpose of understanding, comprehending and being able to see how your behavior has affected others. And the understanding this is a conditioned response that needs to be changed. Change is growth. Growth is healing. Have I given up hope that my parents will ever hear me? No. My hope is that someday they will hear me out. Hear and go through the healing process. I am listening to their side always. I am always willing to hear, to understand and to own my dirt. I just need the exact same thing in return. I don’t want to go through all of it. Just the highlights. To own their crimes. It’s not a wish. It’s a need. A true literal need in the sense of what a need truly is, to have one’s parents be able to communicate objectively on an adult level. I’m ready for this. I simply do not believe they are or ever will be. So, in that mindset, let me say that should the time come for my own child to need me to be open, listening and capable of healing the ancestral wounds, I will be ready. Prepare you heart. Get ready for the day when reconciliation comes. That when it does in fact to come to your doorstep, you’re ready. You’re open. And you’re healed. We can do this! Pretty Lights in a dark work
Spending time in self-healing mode is essential to my continued growth and success. No one can exist for extended periods of time filled with shards of broken glass. When I take a moment to get out the big glasses and peer inside my own being I can find the glass that is still hidden there. The exercise itself does not yield immediate results always. Or shall I say apparent results. I’ve noticed a blindness in my own self when reflecting upon my wounds of trauma. It’s often unseen to me how I’ve been hurt by another. Like not being able to see under you left butt cheek, end of elbow or tip of nose. You simply do not have physical eyes that are capable of viewing those remote locations on your body.Research through ancient art and literature reveals that we also have eyes in my more places than simply our face. Our palms for example contain eyes. Seen or unseen, they are there. Recognizing that deeper vision is needed in order to see inside places that natural eyes cannot see, we must therefore lend our belief and practices to the things we cannot see but trust are there. That’s why our hands are so crucial to healing. Understanding the eyes of the palms, seeing into the formerly unseen places alleviates need to trust in natural eyes which can be so easily deceived. It’s why reiki works so well because in tandem with the understanding that vision through palms is possible, what then cannot be unseen. All is seen. All becomes visible.I have used this knowledge to greater healing in the exercise of self-surgery By applying the knowledge consciously to see beyond what is naturally possible for greater purpose. It takes time for the brain to translate the knowledge of the hidden to that which is revealed, organic or natural. The natural mind needs a minute compute. Think of it like shamanic brain fart. With intention to go forth and heal self, hands applied to mid-section known as solar plexus, entering the shamanic realm.
The experience of entering the shamanic while meditating for the purpose of healing is very much real. Similar to the experience of having a flashback or recalling a pleasant memory. I have not yet simply entered to the shamanic realms without first meditating. However, my ability to meditate has changed significantly over the years. When I first began intentionally quieting my mind, I lacked a great capacity for focus. I was able to tackle this difficult obstacle only through fasting and prayer. By committing to fast with a group of believers and then purpose to do so without excuse, changed my mind in a powerful way. If I had to sum it up, I would say that communal fasting and meditation is the fast track to the shamanic gifts.Now, I can quiet my mind almost instantly if I am in complete control of my vessel. And this allows for greater healing. I can often, upon perceived injury of spirit (my feelings were hurt) enter into a meditative trance. Then I can enter the shamanic realm and demand, politely, be to shown the root of that pain.
Almost instantly, upon returning to my body on Earth my mind knows where it all began. The first time someone treated me in a certain way that caused me to feel the spiritual injury. Whether it was an intentional slight, cultural conditioning or simply a basic misunderstanding a feeling of injury is indicative of actual injury. Your frail human brain can’t tell real from perceived. So even perceived injury, is injurious. Hurt is hurt. Period.We need to heal from this stuff. All of this stuff. Whether they meant it or not, doesn’t matter. I take that back. It does matter. It all matters. So heal it. Heal it to show them that it isn’t about them. It’s about you. It’s about your heart. Your feelings. Your mind. Your experience. Your experience matters. Your heart matters and your healing matters. It won’t be easy. Yes, it will hurt again. One. More. Time. Each hurt will visit one by one until you pull out the broken glass of expectation. Recycle that energy. Cover your wound with your balm and heal thyself. Over and over. Each hurt, every time until you stop hurting.The first time I performed self-surgery was laying on the thick cool grassy hill of a ministry in Maryland where I made coffee and refilled bread baskets. I knew I was there for a greater purpose beyond myself. I had simply submitted to whatever doctrine they were pushing because I was just too broken to care. I had run from a lethally abusive second marriage to a fellow Air Force veteran after being moved to Ohio and was summarily neglected beyond measure.
After the marriage culminated in a wrestling match where his hands were around my neck, I left. I didn’t call police because even then I knew he would be favored. Though we were both veterans, I would be seen less favorably and the fight simply wasn’t worth the cost. So I left. After leaving, the universe carried me on strong arms until I arrived at the ministry. I arrived broken. I knew I was broken and I was open about my brokenness. I sought healing in an aggressive manner. I went to see the senior leaders in charge of teaching wherever I went and sought their wisdom and counsel. It came. The wisdom filtered in and I began to see myself who I really was instead of the person my partner had cast me through his abuse. I was able to see a bigger picture beyond circumstances and new insight lead to new ways of thinking about myself. I saw myself as capable. I saw myself as worthy. I saw myself as strong. It took time to get through the noise of what happened to me to be able to even calm down and stop being so scared he would simply show up and ruin what progress I was steadily making. I confess that I still have a slight discomfort whenever I see someone that closely matches his physical appearance. As I began to face my demons and monsters and the truth of what had been done to me without my consent and against my will, I saw that I had been left with a terribly broken heart. In truth, I still loved him even though I was well aware that he had tried to harm me to death. I didn’t feel this was a healthy way to continue. I realized that I needed to replace the broken heart I had with a newer heart that didn’t love him. I wasn’t stuck with a broken heart. Sacred shamanic heart surgery was possible. It would take several days of walking around with this knowledge before I finally took the time to do such a sacred deed. The day I performed my first self-surgery in the shamanic realm was a beautiful one. It was June and the weather was simply the most perfect day anyone could ever wish to hope for. Not too hot, but warm enough to enjoy the fluffy clouds floating above in a crystal blue sky. The sun was warm against the contrast of the cool green grass. I just let my eyes glaze over as I entered the holy realm where all things are possible. I gently removed my broken, beaten and abused heart and offered it up to the gods of my ancestors. In exchange I was given a fresh heart. One unbroken. A whole heart that was strong and filled with a fresh love of myself. I hadn’t taken time to love myself in so long. It had never occurred to me it was my responsibility to love myself and to in turn teach others how I accept and receive love. I still don’t know how I knew how to pull it all together other than to say that there is a faith deeper than any religion or doctrine. It’s a faith in self of who I am, who I come from and what their hope for me ultimately would be. While it is important to give credence to the ancestors’ desires, it is a blueprint only and the final product will depend on the raw materials at hand. I am grateful for their wisdom and thankful for their guiding hands during the most difficult phases of my walk. It is my faith in them that carries me forward when I must do sacred surgery on self for the greatest healing. |
AuthorMarihemp is a Mystic Archives
January 2024
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