a soul's resurrection.

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“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

Right here.

Right now. 

Is the strongest I've ever felt. 

The bravest. The softest. The stillest. the rawest. Naked and tender. Weathered and worn. The most me. I feel the resounding hum of humility and peace. An unshackling from my inner turmoil. Unhinged. Free. Emerging from the dusty remains of one long and lonely night. Remembering the light that sweetly nudges the soul to wake after a dim, bleak storm. I feel penetrated by the law of seasons + the pulsating truth of change. My winter is passing. The snow is melting. A spring is appearing. A chance to rise again.

 This year I hit a painful bottom. One so deep and throbbing that when I reached the bitter end, all that was left was the guttural recognition of how disconnected I had been from me. For far too long. Living for the beliefs and constructs presented to me. Constantly seeking. Chasing. Hungry. Trusting others' direction more than I could trust myself. Worrying. Wondering. Starving and hustling for worth and approval. Burning myself out so I could prove something that everyone can see through anyway. Paralyzed in indecision and overthought. Lost in the illusion of my ego. Consumed by my inner dialogues + struggle for perfection. 

 My experience of life through the lens of my intellect came to a screeching halt last year and my heart was exposed to a world I had yet to understand. A world where all the walls I had built had no choice but to tumble down. So I could see what I was blind to. Feel what I was missing. Hear what I was avoiding. Be exposed to how my story of life kept me shackled to a hell of limited perception. Of control and rigidity. Though I had an inkling of where it was I needed to go in my soul's journey, I never could have imagined the darkness that was about to unfold, thus leading me to the most intimate endeavour with my heart's true drum. I made choices that required me to sit in the seat of true ownership. The seat of humility and forgiveness. Of truth telling and vulnerability. Action + choice. For the first time ever, my life was asking me to sit with myself. Begging. Pleading. To let myself be seen. To see myself for the first time. Raw and exposed. honest and real. To have tea with my darkness + refill it's cup until every thread is uncovered and there's nowhere left to hide.

But I wasn't going to get there without a fight. To get there I had to go to war. Kicking and screaming. With no one else but me. 

The state I'm in right now is that of a resurrection. A rising from my own self inflicted crucifixion. From the ashes of my own avoidance. My ego. My ache. With a sharper, clear vision. A new found sense of belonging. A return home to the soul's sweet, nurturing embrace. Colours brighter, landscapes more refined. I see humans and their struggle in ways I never could before. Empathy is growing and coursing it's way through my bones. Forgiveness is arriving. Love is looming. Trust blooming. In so many ways I feel once more like a toddler. Humbled to all that I have yet to discover. Learning to walk. Finding my footing. Flailing in the unknown. Curious and wide eyed.

In the last year, I've travelled to the depths of my inner world. Swam in a sea of my own tears. Wept for the death of what once was. Grieved. Hurt. Healed. Repeat.

I've danced in the winds of drama + deceit. Flirted with blame. Desire. Dark.

Felt the wrath of my rage, manipulation and denial. The gut wrenching sick that comes with hurting those I love. And the medicine of my ownership. I shook hands with the teacher of pain and thanked her for reminding me what there is to live for.  I've crumbled at the feet of my victimhood and shame. Been swallowed whole by the shadow of fear. I've woke to my inner cries for a love larger than I know. For sovereignty, truth + peace in my being. My heart's been shook. Broke. Obliterated by love and loss. By longing. By needing. I've climbed the mountains of my inner sorrow and felt the sting of living for others validation. I've touched into every sharp edge of apathy and dissociated completely until numb + hollow.

Empty.

And when I finally reached the point of no return-the vacancy within myself, with not a shred of anything left to hold to, surrender prevailed. Because it's the only thing left to do. To give over. To let go. To surrender into every inch of me. So that I may soften into the layers of another. All the light and all the dark and all the in betweens. Whole and complete.  Renewed and reborn. Resurrected once more. Landing back into the hands of grace and into the lap of my own capacity to love. To trust in the ground that I choose to lay my feet. And stand taller than before. 

That's the funny thing about storms; it's as though everyone can see it but you. And you never truly know when you're in it or when you're out. The places I've walked I may never truly understand. I'm uncertain if I'm even on the other side. But I drink in a long, deep breath of knowing and cry tears of awe and joy as I remember. That nothing is ever really lost. All is cyclical. Everything in its' right place. 

We will continue to fall and rise once more. And the poison we once feared will become the sweet nectar we crave. 

Sweet ones in the midst of deep storm. May you remember the processes we endure are beautiful and complex. Intricate and genius. Unfolding in due time. Deserving of your honour and tender love and care. Be gentle. Be patient. And may you forever be inspired to love more, through that which cuts you to flesh and bone. 

 

kd xx

 

Inspired by the musings of this track. Listened over and over.