Tag: spirituality

Book Review | Healing Trauma by Peter Levine

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Healing Trauma is a groundbreaking book by Peter Levine that offers a fresh perspective on the treatment of trauma. The author has extensive experience in the field of trauma therapy and has developed a unique approach that combines Eastern wisdom with Western science.

The book begins by exploring the nature of trauma and its effects on the body and mind. Levine argues that trauma is not simply a psychological phenomenon, but a somatic one as well. Trauma is stored in the body, and unless it is released, it can continue to cause physical and emotional pain. He believes that by addressing the body’s response to trauma, we can begin to heal the wounds that have been inflicted.

Levine’s approach is based on his understanding of the body’s natural healing capacity. He believes that trauma can be healed by reconnecting with the body’s innate wisdom and by restoring the body’s natural balance. He explains that trauma disrupts the body’s natural rhythms, and that the key to healing is to restore these rhythms.

One of the most powerful aspects of Levine’s approach is his emphasis on the importance of grounding. He believes that trauma disconnects us from our bodies, and that grounding techniques can help us reconnect. He says, “Rebuilding connection is really the key to all of these exercises, because trauma is about a loss of connection, first to the body and self, and second to others and the environment.” Levine offers a variety of grounding exercises that are designed to help us feel more present in our bodies and to help us feel safe and secure.

Another key element of Levine’s approach is the use of somatic experiencing. This is a technique that helps individuals release the energy that has been trapped in their bodies as a result of trauma. Levine explains that trauma is often accompanied by intense physical sensations, and that these sensations can be released through somatic experiencing.

Levine’s approach is also deeply compassionate. He recognizes the suffering that trauma can cause, and he offers a gentle, compassionate approach to healing. He emphasizes the importance of self-care, and he encourages individuals to take responsibility for their own healing.

Overall, Healing Trauma is a powerful and important book that offers hope and healing to those who have suffered from trauma. Levine’s approach is based on a deep understanding of the body’s natural healing capacity, and his emphasis on grounding and somatic experiencing makes his approach both unique and effective. I highly recommend this book to anyone who has experienced trauma or wants to know more about how to help others who are struggling after a traumatic experience.

Inner Visions | February 4, 2021

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Journal Date: February 4th, 2021

I had another reiki session with Angelic yesterday.

As usual, it was a good experience. I feel like it was very healing.

This time I also had very interesting and intense visions while she was doing the energy healing.

It began as it usually does.

At first, I didn’t see very much at all. 

Then, shifting colors began appearing in my field of inner vision.

After a few more minutes, a more definite image began to emerge.

It took me by surprise.

The first image that appeared was a crocodile. 

It was not what I expected.

But I decided to just stay with it, allow it, follow it and see where it took me.

I followed it down the banks of the Nile River and ended up in Ancient Egypt. I saw the great civilization, and all of the magic that went on there. I could see the great cities, and the temples lit up at night.

And I tried to look for myself, to see if I was there, how I fit into all this.

And with that, I found myself somewhere else.

This time, it was morning, and I was in a garden, somewhere in or near Mexico City.

I was wearing a flowing white knee length dress and gold sandals, and my dog Beso was there with me, with a white and gold collar and leash set.

We walked together along a garden path until we reached an elegant temple in the middle of the tropical garden we were in.

Together, we walked up the stairs and stepped inside.

The inside of this temple was dazzlingly beautiful, and with its high vaulted ceilings and long expanses of glass windows stretching up towards the sky, had the look and feel of a renaissance cathedral.

I walked, with Beso beside me on his leash, down the long aisle towards the beautifully decorated altar.

Once we arrived at the front of the cathedral, I noticed another section of this temple which had caught my attention. I turned to my left and began walking in this direction.

This section of the temple appeared to be a museum, and it was much darker here than the rest of the space, the only light coming from the glass box display cases.

Stepping inside, I realized that this museum was dedicated to me.

Looking closer, I could see, yes, each display case held items or photographs of events from my past. It was arranged chronologically, starting at birth.

My first thought on seeing this was, “Oh no… I can’t go through this again.”

I heard a voice (which would later speak to me at similar critical times) answer, “Yes, you can. You can do this. It’s safe to see what there is to be seen here.”

So I took a step forward, and I continued.

It was difficult to go back through this reliquary containing my past. 

So much suffering was contained within these displays.

But there was beauty, and there were tender moments, some measure of sweetness, and little bit of joy, as well.

As I walked, there were moments that overwhelmed me, and I felt that I could not go on.

But as before, a voice from beyond encouraged me. “Keep going. You can. There is nothing for you to fear within these walls.”

So I did.

I walked and I looked and I took the time to feel for everything that came up.

I cried, very often. So many tears had to be shed.

But this time, they were tears of compassion, sympathy and love, filled with sadness for the girl and the woman I’d once been (rather than of shame and bitterness, as they had often come before).

I won’t spend much time now on the specifics of what I saw there–it’s nothing new, nothing I haven’t known about or written extensively on before by now.

What is important here is the journey I made through this memorial of my self, and how I felt and reacted to what was there.

After maybe 20 minutes in this process, I finally made it to the last display case, to the present moment and the end of the museum.

When I had arrived at the end of the final exhibit, all of a sudden the dark wing of the temple containing this museum lit up, and was now brightly lit with hundreds of candles and torches illuminating the beautifully decorated walls.

And now I could see up to the ceiling of this cathedral, where uncovered windows showed the brilliant, burning stars shining down into my corner of the cosmos.

It was very late, maybe 4 or 5am – an entire night had passed during my descent into my own personal underworld.

It felt like a signal that my descent was over. And I felt I was being honored with this beautiful display for having made it through.

I knew that soon, the sun would be rising outside, and that my time in this temple of the past was near its end. I felt I was being asked, “Do you have anything you would like to say before you leave here?”

And before I could think twice, I heard myself answer, “Thank you.”

And then immediately, another part of me responded with something like, “Really?? Thank you? Are you kidding me?”

“Well, yeah…” I shyly responded. Then, a little more surely, “I guess I am grateful – it got me here, didn’t it? It made me who I am. And I’m proud of that.”

Though I was still tearful as I lay there on the table in Angelic’s office (the “real,” physical me) had to smile a little: it was true. I was grateful. And yes, I was proud. I had made it. I had made it through to the other side of all that.

And though it seemed enough to simply have survived, what’s more, I knew that one day, I would say that I had triumphed.

At that point, I looked down at my wrist, and I saw some markings appear there.

They were the two tattoos that I have wanted to get, the infinity symbol on my left wrist, and a small black skull on my right, both drawn in the style of the Smith-Waite tarot.

And I remembered what I had recently heard Clarissa Pinkola Estés say about the scars that people like me carried:

“It’s never going to look like you never suffered. Although I say, be proud of your scars. It has everything to do with your strength and what you’ve endured. It’s a map, so to speak, a treasure map to the self, the deepest self.”

And then I heard a voice say, “You have nothing to be ashamed of anymore. You can leave all of that behind. It was never truly yours to carry in the first place.”

I acknowledged this was true. This is a major part of what the inner work of the last year has shown me: most of the shame I carried came from things which had been done to me, not by me. 

I carried the shame of my abusers, of my attackers, and those who had committed crimes against me.

I carried the burden of guilt that properly belong to those who had hurt me, the mother who hated me, the father who had refused to protect me from harm. 

I had created this structure of lies about myself and my life, all resting upon this false foundation: “It’s because you deserved it. If you had simply been better, they wouldn’t have ‘had’ to…”

Well, now I know better. Now I knew that the failings were not mine. I did not bear the responsibility, and I could not account for these sins of theirs.

The voice spoke again.

“There is nothing to fear here. You don’t have to be afraid any longer. You may return whenever you want to, and you will find only peace here.”

And with that, I was ready.

With little Beso next to me, I stepped outside the temple door into the early morning light.

The sun had not come fully over the horizon yet, but the sky was becoming lighter with each passing second.

Beso and I walked down the rear temple stairs, both of us now dressed in new clothes: he was in an adorable little white doggie tuxedo with a gold leash, while I now stood in a flowing floor length chiffon gown with a light white cape, all with gold details, as well as a golden necklace decorated with pearls, and similarly made matching earrings.

After walking down the stars, we stepped onto a garden path that first led to a fountain filled with flowing water.

I walked to it, and dipped my hands into the running water and brought it to my face, and with a white towel, cleansed myself before continuing down the garden trail.

It was here that I stepped onto what was now a grass-covered path with my bare feet. The sun was shining down on the earth, and the grass felt both warmed by the sun while retaining a certain earthy coolness belonging to the morning.

From there on, I walked barefoot on the grass with little Beso by my side until I reached a throne, also gold and ivory and decorated with pearls to match the clothes I was already wearing.

I sat down, and it was here that my gold and white crown appeared on my head.

I had made it.

I was now sovereign, ruler of my own kingdom.

I had learned how to belong to myself, discovered my own agency, and the right and ability to make decisions that would serve me and all that I oversaw.

Once I had been crowned and was comfortably seated on my throne, people began to arrive.

They were all dressed mostly in white, along with the addition of one bright primary color as an accessory (like a royal blue belt or a red scarf).

When all of the guests had arrived for the celebration we were to have, it made for a very vibrantly colorful and energetic garden party.

As they arrived, the guests spoke to me.

They welcome me to my kingdom.

They told me, “You made it.”

“We’ve been waiting for you.”

“We’re so glad you’re finally here.”

They were all so happy to see me.

And it turns out they had expected me, had wanted to spend time with me, had been waiting just for me.

So when everyone arrived, we had our celebration.

It was a very peaceful, calm and relaxed garden lunch. We sat at a table set in the grass, covered in white linen with gold place settings, and ate healthy fruit and salads, drinking only water, juice and green tea.

The conversation lasted long into the afternoon, and nothing very much in particular happened. We just laughed and smiled and talked and enjoyed each other’s company.

Around this point, I left the perspective of being in my own body within the vision, and the scene seemed to zoom out until I could see the entire globe, spinning slowly in the void of space. 

As it spun, day shifted into night and then again to day and back again, and the people continued on, with no interruption to the rhythm of their peaceful daily happenings. All was calm, all continued with grace, and a gentle and reassuring order prevailed.

I saw myself again (this time, in a new change of clothes–a white button down shirt and pants) go on to interact with new people, and take on the role of a healer and helper.

And this, too, like day and night, alternated in a graceful rhythm, becoming part of the pattern of a new life of purpose and contentment.

Personal Mythology: Beauty and the Beast

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Journal Date: February 2, 2021

In contrast to the first myth I wrote about, my second (and earlier one) is much more fun. 

As a little girl, my favorite movie was Beauty and the Beast. I was literally obsessed with Belle (though I wouldn’t call her my favorite princess– for the purpose of this exercise, let’s say favorite Disney “archetype”).

To go back and look at this story and the character of Belle is both endearing and amusing to me.

I hadn’t thought about this movie or how much I loved it in years, maybe decades, even.

So it was pretty amazing to me to discover that my adult self had turned out to be so similar to this character I’d admired so much as a child.

Here are some examples of the similarities that I had a good laugh about while I listened to the song called Belle from the original movie:

LYRICSCOMMENTARY
[BELLE]
There goes the baker with his tray, like always
The same old bread and rolls to sell
Every morning just the same
Since the morning that we came
To this poor provincial town		Me complaining about living in Eastvale, or about “normal” day-to-day life in general.
[TOWNSFOLK]
Look there she goes, that girl is strange, no question
Dazed and distracted, can’t you tell?
Never part of any crowd’
Cause her head’s up on some cloud
No denying she’s a funny girl, that Belle		Accurate. This is how I live my life, with my head in a book.
Look there she goes, that girl is so peculiar
I wonder if she’s feeling well
With a dreamy, far-off look
And her nose stuck in a book
What a puzzle to the rest of us is Belle		How often have I heard people wonder why I’m so different from everyone else?
Now it’s no wonder that her name means “Beauty”
Her looks have got no parallel
But behind that fair façade
I’m afraid she’s rather odd
Very diff’rent from the rest of us is Belle		It’s true. People usually do seem to perceive me this way.
Look there she goes
The girl is strange but special
A most peculiar mademoiselle!
It’s a pity and a sin
She doesn’t quite fit in
‘Cause she really is a funny girl
A beauty but a funny girl
She really is a funny girl
That Belle!		Seems to be the general consensus about me…

It might seem a little silly at first, but I think there’s something to this idea of having a personal myth that your soul wants to follow. 

I’m tempted to say that the movie had a big influence on me, but in reality, I think it may have been the other way around. I think I was so drawn to it because there was something in me that recognized itself this story.

“Stories like that are the stories that lead us to developing our intuition, and using it, and saying, ‘This is right, this is my life, this is the way it should be,” Estés says. “Think of the story or movie or book or dream that you’re really taken with: it’s because it resonates to the deepest symbols within your own psyche.”

So maybe this is it. Maybe I don’t need to go back and make all these revisions to the later myths of mine, because I had it right with the first and original one I chose as a little girl to begin with.

And believe it or not, Belle does share some essential characteristics with characters like Madame Bovary and Anna Karenina.

At the root of their personalities is the tendency to be a dreamer, and a certain dissatisfaction with living a quotidian existence they are told they are supposed to want.

They all dare to go against conventions and imagine something more for themselves.

Maybe the only difference is, Belle stays true to herself, and true to her integrity. She’s different in that she has faith that she can have what she desires without violating her principles. 

Her compassionate and loving nature does not become a liability, but is in fact the essential key to achieving her dreams.

Most importantly, she belongs to herself. She honors herself and makes choices for herself that reflect that.

As an example, she doesn’t give in and marry Gaston, no matter what a prize he seems to be in the eyes of the townspeople. 

She doesn’t back down and diminish who she is or compromise her values, no matter how weird or strange anyone else thinks she is.

Her peculiarities do, in fact, make her ill-suited to achieving the kind of success the townspeople would recognize.

However, it is these very same qualities that make her the only one who is capable of lifting the curse put on the prince by the witch and restoring harmony and beauty to the castle. 

It is through her stubborn desires and continued capacity to dream and love that she is able to achieve her dreams and bring healing to where it is needed most.

So that’s it.

That’s the new ending to my story.

This is how I will reclaim my original guiding mythology.

May I find that I too be able to live like Belle, may I always remember it is truly possible to create what I dream of.

And the best part?

I don’t have to change or alter anything about me.

I just have to let the true self emerge.

That is enough.

Maybe it always has been.

Marion Woodman & the Embodied, Conscious Feminine

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Marion Woodman (1928-2018) was a renowned Canadian Jungian analyst, author, and lecturer who dedicated her life to exploring the relationship between the body, psyche, and spirit. She is best known for her pioneering work in the field of feminine psychology and the embodiment of the soul.

Born in London, Ontario in 1928, Marion Woodman grew up in a strict Presbyterian family. Her childhood was marked by a sense of spiritual longing and a desire to understand the mysteries of the universe. She pursued this interest through the study of literature and mythology, earning a Bachelor of Arts in English from the University of Western Ontario in 1949.

Over the course of her career, Woodman became increasingly interested in the relationship between the body and the psyche. She believed that our bodies hold a wealth of wisdom and that by listening to the signals of the body, we can gain access to our deepest truths. She developed a form of therapy that uses movement, breath, and other embodied practices to help clients connect with their inner selves.

Woodman’s work was deeply informed by her own struggles with anorexia, which she battled throughout her life. She believed that her eating disorder was a manifestation of a deeper spiritual crisis, and that by working with the body, she could access the spiritual realm and find healing.

Woodman’s work on feminine psychology has had a profound impact on the field of psychology, and her insights into the ways in which the feminine has been repressed and suppressed in Western culture have helped to open up new avenues for healing and transformation.

One of Woodman’s most influential books on feminine psychology is “Addiction to Perfection,” which explores the ways in which women in particular have been socialized to strive for perfection at the expense of their own health and well-being. Woodman argues that this addiction to perfection is a form of self-destructive behavior that is rooted in a disconnection from the body and from the feminine. She believes that we have been conditioned to believe that our bodies are flawed, imperfect, and unworthy of love, and have been taught to value ourselves based on external criteria such as beauty, success, and achievement, rather than on the deeper qualities of the soul.

In “The Pregnant Virgin,” Woodman explores the archetype of the Virgin Mary as a symbol of the feminine in Western culture. She argues that Mary represents a kind of split between the body and the spirit, and that this split has led to a profound sense of disconnection from the body and from the earth. Woodman suggests that the repression of the feminine has created a deep wound in the collective psyche, and that this wound must be healed if we are to find wholeness and integration. She believes that the suppression of the feminine has led to a profound sense of disconnection from the body, from the earth, and from our own souls.

Another key aspect of Woodman’s work on feminine psychology is her focus on the body and the ways in which it holds wisdom and healing. She believed that the body is a source of intuitive knowledge, and that by listening to the signals of the body, we can gain access to our deepest truths. In her book “Dancing in the Flames,” Woodman writes about the importance of embodiment and the ways in which movement and dance can help us to connect with the body and access its wisdom.

Woodman’s work on feminine psychology has also had a profound impact on the field of addiction treatment. In her book “The Ravaged Bridegroom,” she explores the connection between addiction and the suppression of the feminine. She argues that addiction is a form of self-destructive behavior that is rooted in a disconnection from the body and from the feminine. For Woodman, addiction is a symptom of a deeper wound in the psyche, a wound that is created by the suppression of the feminine, and that to heal addiction, we must learn to reconnect with the body and with the feminine.

Throughout her career, Woodman was also a passionate advocate for women’s rights and a pioneer in the field of feminine spirituality. She believed that by reclaiming the feminine, both men and women could find greater wholeness and healing, and she worked tirelessly to promote this message throughout her life. Her insights into the ways in which the feminine has been repressed and suppressed in Western culture have helped to open up new avenues for healing and transformation, and her message of wholeness and integration remains as relevant today as it was during her lifetime.

The Anima and the Animus in Jungian Psychology

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Carl Jung was a Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst who founded analytical psychology. Among his contributions to this field was the concept of the anima and animus, which refers to the feminine and masculine aspects of the human psyche, respectively. According to Jung, every person has both an anima and an animus, regardless of their gender. These two archetypes represent the inner world of a person and can affect their behavior and relationships.

Jung believed that the anima and animus have a powerful influence on the psyche, often operating on an unconscious level. The anima represents the feminine qualities within a man’s psyche, while the animus represents the masculine qualities within a woman’s psyche. Each person has their own unique anima or animus, and it can take on a variety of forms depending on the individual’s experiences and personal history.

Jung believed that the anima and animus function as the mediator between the conscious and unconscious mind, helping to bridge the gap between the two. By embracing these inner archetypes, individuals can become more whole and integrated, leading to a greater sense of balance and harmony in their lives.

In men, the anima often appears as a feminine ideal, representing the qualities of tenderness, intuition, and emotion. It can also manifest in the form of a muse, inspiring creativity and artistic expression. Men who are in touch with their anima tend to be more empathetic and compassionate, with a greater understanding of the emotional needs of others.

However, when a man is not in touch with his anima, he may become overly aggressive or detached from his emotions, leading to problems in his relationships with others. He may struggle to connect with his partner emotionally, leading to feelings of isolation and loneliness. Conversely, a man who is too in touch with his anima may become overly sensitive and lack the assertiveness needed to maintain healthy boundaries in his relationships.

In women, the animus often appears as a masculine ideal, representing the qualities of assertiveness, logic, and rationality. It can also manifest in the form of a protector, providing strength and support in times of need. Women who are in touch with their animus tend to be more independent and self-assured, with a greater ability to navigate the challenges of life.

However, when a woman is not in touch with her animus, she may become overly passive or dependent on others, leading to a lack of autonomy and self-confidence. She may struggle to assert herself in her relationships, leading to feelings of powerlessness and resentment. Conversely, a woman who is too in touch with her animus may become overly aggressive or domineering, leading to difficulties in her relationships with others.

In relationships, the anima and animus can play a significant role in shaping the dynamics between partners. For example, a man who is in touch with his anima may be more attuned to his partner’s emotional needs, leading to a greater sense of intimacy and connection. Conversely, a man who is disconnected from his anima may struggle to understand his partner’s emotional cues, leading to misunderstandings and conflicts.

Similarly, a woman who is in touch with her animus may be more assertive and confident in her relationships, leading to a greater sense of equality and respect between partners. However, a woman who is overly identified with her animus may become overly aggressive or domineering, leading to power struggles and conflicts with her partner.

In conclusion, Carl Jung’s theory of the anima and animus provides valuable insights into the feminine and masculine aspects of the human psyche and how they operate in relationships. Embracing and integrating these inner archetypes can lead to greater balance and harmony in one’s life and relationships.

However, an imbalance or over-identification with either the anima or animus can lead to difficulties and conflicts. Understanding and working with these archetypes can help individuals navigate their relationships more effectively and cultivate a greater sense of wholeness and self-awareness.

Entering the Hermes Field

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Journal Date: Saturday, January 2, 2021

I remember early on into the first month or so of quarantine– I was reading a book on alchemy, and it was describing the process of “entering the Hermes field,” and how to use this in your own spiritual development and awakening.

In the book, the author creatively describes a meeting with Hermes, and suggests that you can also directly communicate with him, and ask for guidance.

So I decided to try it.

“Hermes, I’m ready– show me my shadow. I’m ready to see the truth.”

I was answered almost immediately, that same night.

It was a lot– it felt very intense. So much so that I had to modify my request a little bit: “I’m ready, but please just show me what I can handle right now. Not more, and not less, just exactly what I am capable of handling at any given moment.”

Honestly, I was scared.

I was coming up against things I’d been running from for a lifetime.

And it hurt. It was painful to see what was there to be seen.

—

Painful, but not exactly surprising.

I already knew I was pretty messed up.

The surprise came just a few months into it, though, when the things I was seeing shifted from how I was wrong, and started to reveal to me how others needed to be held accountable.

This was where it started to get really difficult. 

I was used to being the one to blame. My inner critic was so easy to activate, it was already so natural for me to punish myself.

But what do I do when I have to hold other people accountable?

That was beyond terrifying to me.

How could I begin to come to terms with the vast amount of mistreatment from all those people I felt so powerless with?

This was the hardest thing: to come to terms with my family and how they had treated me.

I’d never really allowed myself to consider this.

I’d rather throw myself under the bus, and punish myself, than face the truth of what my family was.

I resisted.

But it soon became undeniable.

There was something deeply wrong with the narrative I’d been sold about who I was, and why they acted as they did toward me.

The narrative was coming undone, even though I’d done my best for 32 years to hold the bundles of lies and patchwork logic together.

I’d changed myself to fit their demands.

I’d sinned just to earn a place in their hell.

And it was all starting to unravel itself before my eyes.

There was nothing I could do to stop it now.

I could look away, but the thread had been pulled loose, and was now coming undone through a life of its own.

This Train is Leaving the Station

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Journal Date: May 5, 2020

I woke up early this morning to take my little puppy Beso outside before the sun rose.

Coming back inside, I gave him a snack and lay down to rest more on the living room couch while he played with his toys.

Soon, I found myself in the middle of a terrible dream.

In this dream, I was being rejected, shamed and abandoned by everyone in my life. I felt wildly out of control, unable to control my body or my reactions to anything around me. I was sure that I had been drugged, I had a vague memory of taking a pill I had been offered earlier in the dream by my mother.

I tried to tell the others in my dream it wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t control my self, it was this drug I had taken that was making me act intoxicated, that the way they saw me wasn’t reflective of who I really was, but no one believed me, and left me alone with my shame anyway.

Soon I came to realize I was on a train, which continually traveled between two stations, an old station and a more modern one in a new town. Sometimes I would get off the train and explore the land surrounding each station, but inevitably I would find myself back on the train as it continued its ceaseless journey from one point to the other.

On one trip back to the old town station, I saw a hospital emergency room. I wanted to rush off the train and see if they could give me a drug test or something to prove the cause of my condition. But I could never stay off the train long enough, I always came back sooner than I would have wished to commence a new cycle of pain and confusion.

Once back on the train, I re-experienced each abandonment anew. Most times, it was one of my parents which were leaving me after delivering their cold, unequivocal judgements on how I was not worth the trouble to be around. But there were times when even my puppy Beso was taken away from me. It may not seem like much, but each time it happened, I felt my heart implode like a massive black hole in my chest, and I heard myself scream out loud.

This lasted until I was woken up on the couch by my mom. “Are you okay?” she asked. She had heard me scream again and again in my sleep, and was afraid something was wrong.

I finally got up and she brought me water and some aspirin to help with the headache I had woken up with.

“Look at Beso,” she said, pointing to my dog laying under the couch beneath me. “Even though you were making so much noise he never left you. He’s so loyal.”

I avoided thinking about the dream until later in the afternoon. I had fallen asleep again for a nap, and on waking up, the meaning of the earlier dream came to me all at once.

The drug I had been given was my trauma, my childhood experience and conditioning which told me I was and would never be good enough.

Being high (or in this case, low) on this drug had me acting in ways I felt I couldn’t control. I was reactive, reckless, hurting myself and others, watching this bitter pill create the wreckage of my life I knew, feared, and experienced over and over again.

There was still that part of me that wanted to get off at the old train station, to go back further into my past, to find some authority that would look at me and give me a diagnosis that would shift the blame onto anything outside of me. I wanted someone to say to me, “It’s the drugs talking. It’s this tough pill of trauma you’ve been hooked on for so long. We understand it’s not your fault.”

But no doctor could ever give me that script. Even if they did, few would believe me and even less would care.

I could feel all of the shame and fear and sense of “stuckness” rising up within me as I reflected on the dream and what it could mean for me.

Then I remembered, the train always kept moving. The train was always taking me forward, trying to open its doors for me onto new frontiers, but I had such a hard time feeling ready to make roots in this foreign territory, I was obsessed with proving something about who I was and who should be held responsible for all the consequences that came of that that I found myself again and again on that same train “home”.

Now I could see that when those doors opened again, I needed to plant my flag in that new space and declare the future my true home.

The past is a desolate place, a withered landscape, a war-torn country I could never trust as my own. In some ways I think that maybe I never had a home, I felt as if I’d been born at sea, a small ship at sail in dangerous waters. 

I know I can’t go back to where I was, but now I’m prepared to get off this train and build my own home, create my own safe harbor from a pattern I am putting together as I go along. I’m ready to go home, to the future, and leave that train of sadness behind for good.

When We Dead Awaken: Part 3

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If I’m ever going to create my future, I’m going to have to come to terms with my past.

I’ve been trying to avoid it, deny it, explain it away, make excuses for it, compensate for it, erase it, and so much more.

I’ve struggled to accept that this is the truth of my life. That this isn’t “just a phase.” It isn’t just going to disappear one day like it never happened.

I think I may have (unconsciously) thought that if I worked hard enough I would be “cured,” I’d become 100% “better”, and it would all be as if nothing had ever happened. That there would be some kind of “redemption” where I would be saved from my own damn self.

In practice what this meant was that I was working toward a model, a “goal” identity, that was completely inappropriate for me.

I wanted so badly to be normal. I would have done anything to not be so “complicated.”

The ideal future self I had in mind was so boring, so basic. So unthreatening. She was some happy, carefree, extraverted, easy going, and very chill girl (that’s why they said they wanted from me, right?).

I thought I could nip and tuck and edit away all of my humanity, become acceptable to the greater mass of society, and call it a success. 

I would know I had “made it” when I was deemed normal by everyone and no one ever said anything bad about me ever again.

That was my vision for health: to completely erase myself, and finally just be what everyone else wanted me to be. 

My vision now is this: I will not deny my past, I will not erase this self. I will not even try to compensate for the suffering I’ve had with some grandiose and misguided attempt to “make it all worth it.”

I will integrate my past. I will honor myself.

I will acknowledge all of the places and the people I have been, regardless of how strange or scary others find them to be.

I will speak to the truth of who I was, and how it was that I became who I am today.

Rubedo: the Red Phase of Alchemy

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After the whitening of the albedo comes the last phase of the Great Work: the red phase, or reddening.

The white phase consisted of an intense process of purification, in which all the rotting decayed matter that had died during the nigredo was thoroughly cleansed of impurities. What was left was then considered clean but also very sterile, incapable of producing new life and lacking animation.

The purpose of the red phase was to make the matter come alive again. This process was initiated with the completion of the last phase of the albedo, conjunction, which was known to alchemists as “the marriage of the sun and moon.”

The rubedo continues this work of uniting opposite energies or elements until the Great Work has been completed.

The first process in the red phase of alchemy is known as fermentation, where the alchemist receives visions and other types of inspiration that will ultimately guide them to the end of the Great Work.

This is followed by a long process known as distillation, in which the alchemist is tasked with separating “the earth from the fire, the subtle from the gross.”

The final phase, coagulation, marks the completion of the Great Work and the creation of the Philosopher’s stone.

When We Dead Awaken: Part 1

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Journal Date: November 28, 2020

I wanted to pick up where I left off before, writing in response to what I had learned from my B.O.T.A. lessons the night before.

There was one idea in particular that captured my attention, and I think it is worth repeating here:

“So long as we ascribe power, wisdom, supply or anything else of worth to external conditions, just so long we are dreaming. The sources of life and power are within us. Human personality is like a projection machine. Human environment is like a screen. Our mental imagery (inside us) makes the pictures, and the words of our mouths incite the reactions we experience. But the light which projects the pictures is an inner light… the light of the One Self.

When we awake we come to ourselves as did the Prodigal. We stop dreaming. We are freed from the nightmare terrors besetting those who dwell in dust. Then we find the Creative Word in our mouths and in our hearts. We learn that our “speech,” that is, our mental definitions of ourselves and our relations to our circumstances, never return to us void. If our definitions be wrong, because we are deluded by appearances, the appearances grow worse and worse. When we awake and come to ourselves, a new set of pictures is projected on the screen of our environment.”

–TF 36, “The Tower”

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Before I get too far into the details, I wanted to mention this little synchronicity: I read a very similar concept earlier in the afternoon yesterday, only in my psychology textbook.

The chapter was about worry and anxiety, and how these mental and emotional conditions can lead directly to physical health problems.

It basically described the Law of Attraction, only in the book they called it “the Law of Expectation,” and they had a very different explanation for how it all worked than B.O.T.A. It was rooted in physical causation, in contrast to B.O.T.A.’s assertion of spiritual/energetic causes, but the process was essentially the same. 

They cautioned against worrying (as it “creates stress”, “rehearses failure”, releases harmful biochemicals, etc.), promoted the practice of visualization for success, and even suggested a focus on the sense of touch being included in visualization practices (just like B.O.T.A. did).

They described essentially the same tools, the same processes, the only difference being the causal mechanisms attributed to each.

I thought this was an interesting coincidence (or synchronicity). I was impressed to see the same content and concepts appearing in these two different areas of life at exactly the same time.

I feel that now I’m on the right track. Clearly, there’s something to all of this.

And this is just one of many little meaningful coincidences that have cropped up repeatedly over the past week or so… 

I like where I’m heading.