Life, a love story

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photo credit: Pixabay

I have been tumbling backwards in my dreams. Returning to homes of childhood and their keepers. It is funny how the mind moves through the body and the body through the mind. There is a cycling through time that is nonlinear. We are spirals like the galaxy that holds us together. We are each tiny universes filled with cells and memories. The past woven into the present, threading into the future, spiraling inward and outward. We are each an ocean, contained and endless. Our waters swallowed into the membranes of our cells in one moment, and expiring in waves back to the stars. We are heaven and earth in one body walking the planes of existence.

Three nights ago, my bare feet found the sands on the edge of the sea. They walked endless shorelines, treading the line between solid ground and the sharp drop back into the vast womb of Mother Earth. My heart a tremble of fear and courage, yet I dared not step into the water. The drop too steep I knew the swallow would be whole. It’s no surprise that the Mother returned in other forms in subsequent nights as the ocean found containment inside the throat. Words still searching for air. How frustrating the spiral can be.

As the year turns into a new calendar, there is the calling to shed the worn, tired skins we wear. There is the calling to strip bare and return to the womb to rebirth the self new and fresh. Yet birth is rarely painless, nor is it usually easy. It takes concerted effort, a fair bit of strength, and a willing letting go.

I have been thinking of the excuses I hold tight inside the spiral. This false feeling of security in the futile hope that no more pain will ensue. No one really desires pain, yet the heart builds a fortress that splinters in the tearing down. Birth is always easiest when there is no resistance to battle through.

I think, perhaps, I should have dove headfirst into those dream waters, or let the feet follow the suck of the sand into the liquid abyss. Only then would I have known if the drowning would have swallowed my breath, or gave it back. Complete surrendering of our fears comes with trust, and the acceptance that death, in some form, will occur.

It is always, though, a love story. The question is, do we make it conditional, or unconditional?

10 thoughts on “Life, a love story

  1. This is very profound. This new year is demanding much of us. I think that the deep ocean you speak of might also be about the chaos of collective emotion that is swirling in the etheric plane at present. In Jungian psychology the ocean is the collective unconscious.
    Here in Australia with the bushfires the collective angst is palpable. Yesterday I was reading an update and a pain like a knife wound stabbed into my heart chakra. It lodged at the back of the chakra and stayed there for hours. I had to do loads of energy work to shift it – deep meditations, contemplation, smudging and then sleepin all night with crystals round my body – amethyst, rose and clear quartz.
    This morning I am contemplating how empaths, seers and energy workers can best serve in these times. Maybe it is about walking beside the ocean, seeing it but not diving into the depths. Maybe your dream choice was actually the right choice.
    These thoughts are very new and still forming. I will blog about them when I get clearer.

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    1. Thank you for sharing this. I too feel the struggle as to what to do. Bearing witness and feeling a sense of helplessness is not easy. I didn’t blog about the entire dream, which was quite long, but I keep thinking of this one part where I stood on the edge of an angry sea watching it swallow then release a large gray dog that was hunched down, holding its ground despite the waves, and peering at me. It was unnerving. Interestingly, I ordered Jung’s The Red Book as a Christmas present for myself and its sitting in wait in my end table.

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      1. Wow. I read that then immediately got the impression that grey dog is the establishment – the (insert whatever you want to call it- the corporations, the right wing governments etc) – all those who have a vested interest in keeping this system going.
        I think it’s more than bearing witness – there has to be some service in what we do right now – I’m still groping towards understanding this – it’s something like being in the eye of the storm – detached compassion comes close to describing it but it isn’t exactly what I mean. I’m continuing to meditate a lot and will write a proper blog post when I get clearer. One message I got in yesterday’s meditation is that the fires are connected with to the way we (I mean our culture) no longer holds nature sacred. An angry sea has the same feeling to it. I’m wondering what the winter storms will bring to the northern hemisphere this year.
        What’s happening here just feels like the start of it.

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      2. The dog certainly could represent that, and on a more personal level, the domineering forces from my childhood I am still working through. I too wonder what will come next. It seems like there is more upheaval yet to come…

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