I’ve always seen myself as someone who likes changes.
Actually, I believed I thrived from them, craved them, couldn’t handle standing in the same place for too long, always having this deep urge to move, explore, transform, bring new into my life and shed old, get rid of all that stale stuff that wore off and lost their shine with the passing of time.
Recently I realized that it’s not true.
As someone who has tendency to control, who finds shelter in the illusory sense of ‘having control’ over anything and everything, who uses that same control as the anchor to ground themselves when things seem to be floating too high in the air and there’s no firm ground they can rest upon - I found that I do love changes and very much so but ONLY if I make them, only if it is myself that makes a conscious decision to do something, to introduce a change into my life on my terms and according to my schedule.
Even though I said that ‘control’ doesn’t exist other than as a mind-construct that we run to for a hit of false safety, I realized I like changes only if I am ‘in control’ over the pace and conditions in which they occur.
When they come suddenly and without notice, I can feel the solidity of the ground beneath my feet melting, my chest contracting and waves of anger, frustration and fear overflowing my whole body. I get so angry. Angry at the Universe, angry at myself for not having predicted what was about to happen and for not being able to keep my calm, let go of the rigidity my personality has tendency to cling on and simply flow... Flow, adapt and dance with the change.
I started to analyse and reflect upon my relationship with change, primarily upon my attitudes toward the changes within my emotional body - that has always, but even more so during the recent months as I stopped taking my antidepressant medication, been very unstable, very temporary in its states and everflowing - changing its shape, colour and direction from minute to minute. I wondered if my anger and frustration were connected solely to the changes in my internal world or they got triggered with the external, natural changes that I have no control over whatsoever, as well.
Summer period in Portugal can be tricky and for the last few weeks days were going from extremely hot to dark, cold and gloomy, sometimes passing the entire spectrum of sun, rain, hot, cold, wet, dry and windy - all in just one day. I’d enjoy a warm, sunny morning, making plans for passing the afternoon sunbathing on the beach when suddenly thick clouds would appear out of nowhere and in no time I needed a warm blanket to keep myself from shivering and catching a cold in the midst of July. I noticed how frustrated it was making me, how angry I’d get with weather, as if it was someone’s fault, as if there was a way to control it or prevent rain from falling and wind from blowing.
I noticed how much I started to complain, how much resistance I cultivated within my body and mind for this simple natural flow of changes that happens everywhere since the beginning of time. Why can’t I accept and flow with these natural changes? Why do I need to get angry and make myself suffer through resistance instead of learning how to adapt, how to flow, how to surf the ever-transforming shapes of this Universe?
With that newly gained awareness of self-provoked suffering through resistance to the natural flow of life and changes, I decided to teach myself to dance with it, to stay open and see beneath that resistance - look into the eye of the fear that comes from the belief that if I am not “in control”, if I don’t see the change before it actually steps into my reality - I am not safe.
Consciously practicing softening my body and mind through breath at first signs of stiffness climbing up my spine - I decided to broaden my vision and see if I can apply the same principles to my emotional states. What would happen if I looked at my feelings the same way I look at the weather? If I accepted that they change from moment to moment, that I can flow from excitement to sadness, from bitterness to happiness, from feeling connected to feeling isolated and lonely in a split of a second? What if I stopped resisting that flow and actually accepted it as it was? What if I surrendered to the dance, softened my body and learned the movements instead of staying stiff and tense in the corner, trying to remain firm in the place, while strong winds are blowing from all the directions, pushing me to the left at one moment and to the right the next one?
I have been a highly sensitive and emotional person my whole life and through believing it was wrong and inconvenient - I grew extremely resistant to that strong flow of feminine energy within me. I tried to push myself into the box, control the waves by neglecting all the expressions of my internal weather.
I tried to artificially create tropical climate inside of me, with no rain or clouds, turning the blind eye to the fact that I am not that and that there’s beauty even in places where weather shifts and transforms from one moment to another.
Now I see that I am the storm and the rain
Burning sunrays and painfully cold wind
that was forcefully put
into tiny metal box
I am removing my hands from the box, releasing the force and the strength to keep it tightly closed... and I watch the Ocean getting free, dancing in its expressive beauty and unpredictability.
And I am accepting that not everyone likes the Ocean.
Some people even hate it.
But that is no more good enough reason for me
to try to fit into a tiny metal box.
do not try to lift me up
my body is heavy
from all the love
I didn’t know what to do with
I stored it inside that drawer
hidden beneath my ribcage
lost the keys
along the way
what happens to the love
stored for too long?
is there an end-date
or a point at which
it loses its properties
into something else?
Teach me those secret words
that’ll open the halls of my core
Show me how to surrender
to the unknown sensations
that are trying
to make their way
through the void of my vessel
I release the reins
For so long
I’ve been waiting for its arrival
(for so long
I’ve been waiting for your arrival)
it never occurred to me
that I needed to
open the doors
“There is a treasure chest
buried at the beach”,
“But no one knows where,
They dug and dug,
yet no one ever found it.”
“Then how do you know
it’s really there?”
“How can you know that?”
“You don’t need to know to know,
Look at the sound of the waves
and sing me their colour,
listen to the rays of the Sun
and show me their flavour.
It is when senses merge
that the doubt disappears
if it happens to reemerge
and you start doubting the
existence of the chest again,
jump into that lake within
and tell me
what do you see
when you bring your hands
that the form dissipates
in the particles of orange light
and your vision is swallowed
by the wholeness
the dance that goes
and any knowing.
You don’t need to know
I was talking with my boyfriend the other day about the importance of the words we use and how all those subtle nuances between closely related words can influence the flow of communication and the depth of connection we can achieve with another person, dependent on the similarity of our experience of a certain term and the meaning we give to it.
Verbal communication is never complete as each one of us gives different meaning to a word based on our upbringing, surroundings, education, personality traits, experiences and so on... We may think we are transmitting our idea clearly, but as it passes the ears of the other person it changes colours and adapts itself through the receiver’s filter, therefore our ideas can never be transmitted “clearly”, unchanged and unobstructed in their content.
However, if we know more words, if our vocabulary is rich and wide - does the “cleanliness” of the communication increase? If we can describe our ideas with larger set of terms, closely related, but different in their tiny, specific characteristics - does it diminish the large gap that exists between one person’s understanding of the word and another’s? Does it reduce the amount of possible content we can pour into, at the first glance, identical form or it actually doesn’t matter?
We came to the conclusion that, yes, the width and depth of our vocabulary facilitates the expression and reception of an idea and brings us closer to the utopical concept of “complete, clear communication” that probably does not exist in this dimension.
I kept thinking about that as I was left kind of disturbed and at unease about the sad reality that complete communication with another human being is not possible - that all we do is talking to ourselves, while living in the illusion we are talking to another. However, just 20-30% of our communication and interaction is verbal, so there’s still lots of place to try to increase the possibility to reach the internal world of another and find the common ground where we can communicate at deeper and more complete way.
While I was sitting in meditation this morning, a memory popped into my mind.
Random and seemingly unrelated to anything, it offered me a new angle and insight on the topic that I just talked about.
When I was around 7, 8 years old (or maybe even younger, I cannot quite well remember) I had to take some pills - cannot recall what for - and as I was disgusted and unable to ingest them by themselves, my mom used to open the capsules and pour the powdery content into a cup of milk, so I can take the medicine without noticing the taste or being resistant to swallowing the big, plastic capsule.
And it came to me: What if communication was just like that? What if the communication - the real, raw, deep, merging communication as an abstract ideal we’re striving for - was like that pill from my memory that we dilute in the milk so we can numb its taste?
Imagine the milk that contains the medicine like the words we use as a container for a deeper energy exchange. The milk tastes the same when there’s a tiny amount of medicine powder inside or when it is completely clean, without anything added to it. The same way, our words can be just that - empty form with nothing inside, or they can contain the seed of communication within, intentionally put there, but with the risk that the receiver will miss it, that they will drink it up, never really tasting the flavour of the seed.
What would be like then to take the medicine by itself, without diluting it and masking up its taste? Many can assist that when words fail and we are left in silence with another, true connection and communication of our souls and hearts occurs. If we cannot be face to face with another person and feel their energy field in live, of course - words are useful, but it is extremely important to keep the awareness of the unstability and ambiguity of their content that varies from one person’s experience to another’s and that the only thing that is constant is their form, which makes us easily fall in the trap that we are actually talking about the same thing when we probably are not. At least, not EXACTLY the same.
I believe we get to “truly, deeply” connect to another, but it happens rarely so through words. In my experience, it happens when we let the fear drop and open our hearts widely, listen with the soul, listen to the truth that exists beyond words, tune into those subtle energies that are being exchanged and push to the side our Ego and self-identity as much as we can.
When we leave out the expectations of what other wants to transmit and truly open up to receiving, when we liberate ourselves from the anxiety and need to respond as quickly as possible - it is in those, calm, raw, vulnerable moments of silence that the connection occurs. It strikes suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere, but it can be intentionally birthed through our decision to stay present, open and vulnerable - and it feels so good. So real. You’ll know that you connected to another when you feel all of your body being bathed in warmth, the cord being pulled between your hearts and tears of joy trying to escape your eyes. It is in those moments that medicine is in its pure form and both parts can taste it and feel its effects on their bodies and souls. I used the word ‘medicine’ continuing the analogy with my childhood experience, but the true, heart-cracking connection with another soul has the most beneficial and healing properties to our emotional and physical body, as well. Therefore, it is a medicine of a sort.
Our job here is to learn and connect, but instead of taking those terms for granted, believing that we know their meaning and how to act upon them - let’s rethink and refeel the meaning of those two.
What does “to connect” mean to you?
How those moments of “true, real and raw” connection feel in your body?
Where do you feel them?
Love you all.
As connected as I naturally am to my intuitive side, I spent most of my teenage years completely cut off from my internal guidance. Day after day, I’d be shutting its voice and finding the shelter within the mind, rationally evaluating any doubt and decision I was about to take and running to others for the advice and direction, whether I really needed someone else’s advice on the topic or not.
My only sources of guidance were rational evaluation and other people’s opinion. I kind of forgot how did it feel to “hear the whispers of my inner guide”.
I was left completely confused when my therapist asked me for the first time:
-OK, but what do you FEEL you wanna do about that?”
-What do I FEEL? Well, obviously there are x advantages and y disadvantages, therefore I should...
-No no no, not what you SHOULD do or what they want you to do, but what your heart wants?
My heart?? I had no idea. I lost the access to that part of myself and it took some serious work and tuning in to rediscover the path to that calm, safe, knowing place within me.
The reason why I am writing this post is because innumerous number of times along the journey to reconnecting to the voice of my intuitive side, I stumbled upon the challenge of discerning whether it was really my intuition speaking up or whether it was just the fear trying to prevent me from doing something that may benefit me and bring joy to my heart, but it is at the same time risky, uncomfortable and requires some courage. And, sometimes, it is reaaaally hard to distinguish one from the other, as the fear, in desperate want of our Ego to protect us, knows all the tricks to mask itself and hide behind any role that’s needed in order to get our attention and persuade us to choose it.
Intuition is like a muscle, the more you tap into it and train it - the stronger it gets. However, in order to get to that point and start developing the muscle, we have to do some deep inner work, getting quiet on regular basis and tapping into our inner space so we can learn - or really remember - the language of our heart and soul. When I’d be in doubt which voice is my intuitive voice and which is the fear-based one, I’d say outloud the question that I’d have and put a hand on my heart space, closing the eyes and getting really aware of anything happening in that space. Then I’d say one after the other possible solution to my challenge and stay conscious of how it feels in my chest while I am pronouncing one particular possibility. If the sensation is warm, expanding, calming and evolving - that was my intuition saying “yeesss, that’s the right way”. If I’d feel a sudden drop in energy, getting slightly tense, the sensation of closing in the Fifth Chakra area, almost like fog entering my body - I’d know it was the fear speaking, trying to prevent me and save me from potential hurt and disappointment.
If you are still struggling a lot or just from time to time (I, personally, still do sometimes when it is about stuff I am particularly sensitive about or topic that tends to trigger the old wounds and patterns) to hear the voice of the Internal Guide, don’t be harsh with yourself, give yourself love, acceptance and - patience. It takes time, it takes being quiet, staying superaware, being willing to look inside and... trust. Trust that you can find that place, that your body gives you signals and that there is nothing you can really DO about all of this other than listen... really listen.
It took time for me to fully grasp and integrate the idea that we choose our parents before incarnating into this physical plane, in the way which would allow us to learn the best those lessons we intended to learn during this particular lifetime.
Once I understood it completely, or maybe it’d be better to say: once my soul remembered the contract we made before coming to the Earth - everything started to make more sense and the pain and wounds I carry from those primary relationships and all the way from my childhood, gained more meaningful form.
They say we need to understand and accept that our parents are human too and by the quality of being so, they make mistakes too, but not so from the place of cruelty or evilness, but rather from their own past conditioning or simply ‘cause of the ignorance. When we manage to take off the veil of “divinity” and “all-knowingness” we wrapped around our primal caretakers, seeing them since arriving to this time-space reality as the source of ultimate knowledge, love and power - we can start to look at them in a new light. We can see their humanness and the child of light hidden in those adult bodies. We can feel them closer then before and understand better why they did what they did, discovering the new softness that has been applied to our perception of what we previously labeled as “mistakes” and blamed them for.
I agree with all of that and it is the absolute truth that both your and my parents did their very best from their point of view at the particular moment in time, as hard as it sometimes may be to see it that way. It is also true that reaching the place of forgiveness and the liberation from the burden of blame that dims our own magic long after we leave our childhood years and step into the adulthood ourselves sets us free in a beautiful way, there’s a part of the puzzle that can easily pass unnoticed or denied and consequentially keep us imprisoned emotionally, even when on conscious level we feel we forgave everything.
The fact that our parents did the best they knew at the time and should be forgiven for the “missteps” they took DOES NOT MEAN we should negate, bypass or deny the emotional pain and wounds that their well-intentioned, but hurtful behaviour, words and comments inflicted upon us.
How to separate the two? How to tend to our own wounds without falling into the blaming cycle?
I believe we cannot do the two at the same time. If we are trying to heal those broken and dark parts of ourselves and at the same time we are giving away our power through blaming someone else for the state we are in - we are left feeling “uncapable” and powerless to soothe our pain as we passed all the responsibility to those who hurt us in the first place.
It is only through taking our power back and yes - acknowledging the source of the pain or certain behavioural pattern that doesn’t serve our Higher Good, but not passing it the responsibility to “clean the mess”, that we can truly heal those wounds. The work is upon us.
We all have childhood traumas. By “traumas” I don’t mean all of us have been beaten or tortured in violent ways - it could be random comments, words and acts that triggered a traumatic response within our younger selves when we weren’t mature and emotionally experienced enough to process those events in a healthy way.
It is parents’ responsibility to take care of the emotional and psychological wellbeing of a child, but once we reach the adult age - it is upon us to go through the process of forgiveness and letting go and then dive within and find the ways to help that scared, wounded child that still exists inside.
My opinion is that we ALL need to do the work - no exceptions - if we want to be more conscious and aware adults that act out of love and compassion and not out of their very own unhealed childhood traumas. And, let’s be honest, we see lot of that around - lonely and wounded children stuck in adult bodies screaming to be saved and attended to. We have to stay aware and do the work on the individual level and the collective will reflect that in no time as a consequence of our own dedicated inner-work.
I, myself, am on this journey right now even though I thought I was done with it and that I let go and resolved all that was sucking my Life-Force from beneath. The truth is that I understood it all on a rational level and managed to access the place of compassion and understanding for my parents and decisions they took, but I never really looked at my wounds. And they are still there, begging for my attention as it is only me who can and should attend to that terrified, broken little girl that shivers within.
my veins are pregnant with words
stuck inside for so long
my throat stiff from the wind
that keeps pushing me
while I’m doubting the direction
someone once told me
that there are no flowers once
the blue line
written in the sand
by the hand
but I have to check it myself
dive my head into the dunes
staying without air
for some time
breathing through my hair
the hope that the void
I pulled my hair back from my forehead, preventing it from getting into the way. Once it’s over, I don’t want any scent to remain. I don’t want to linger here more than necessary.
Just get over it and move forward, flush the memory with fresh water and watch it disappear down the black hole.
Arched over the toilet, all of my body hurting, surrendering to the overwhelming urge to let it all out - the only problem is there is nothing left inside. The emptiness is too heavy for my system, it burns the walls of my stomach and melts the sore edges of my eyes. I breathe in deeply, letting my skin stretch out, allowing the warm air to caress my aching insides, breathing out rage, hate, pain, black, yellow and dense remains that I somehow believed to serve me.
You are safe now.
Why I keep feeling this way then?
If all of the demons are gone who is it that is ripping my chest from the inside?
It was always you who did that, the voice answered. There was never anyone else. No one else exists. You took their words, squeezed the juice out and drank it all the way down. It’s ok, though - that was the best you could do, it was the only thing you knew how to do. Now, however, you can choose again. I am giving you the opportunity to spit out those spiders, throw the poison out and fill their place with whatever YOU like. Choose wisely.
My knees are trembling as the last drops of the bittersweet liquid leave my lips. I can see faces and silhouettes forming out of the fumes of my vomit, shouting at me, trying to make me feel guilty, trying to make me change my decision and reopen the gates of my fortress. I am stronger now, though. I am not letting them find shelter in my rooms again.
Yesterday, while walking back home, I started picking flowers to put them into that room that had been left empty. I don’t know how to hold flowers and where to place them, they are uncomfortable to carry around, it is all strange and new and I am still getting used. My eyes tear up from their colours and their smell makes me cough.
Give it some time. It is this that you want, right?
It is. The faith that it’ll become more natural with time is what sustains me. The faith that it is really only me who can decide what and who can get in. It took me so long, but I finally learn that I can close the door at any time.
You see. It was always you. The one who picked the flowers and the one who cleared the way for the spiders to come in. Don’t forget that. It is the only thing that matters. Keep the room clean and safe, but don’t close the window, let the air and light sneak in. Mop the floors every once in a while, but don’t close the window. It is the openness of the window that matters, do you hear me? When you close it, you might feel safer, but that is when the Flow dies. That is when all those flowers you carefully carried all the way home will wither.
I love you and you are supported.
It is up to you to decide whether you want to see it or turn your head the other way.
It is up to you, darling.
But, whatever you decide, remember that there is always the opportunity to choose again.