From down here, at the bottom of a magical well, I can still see the stars. From down here, where I have almost become earth, where my elements are almost indistinguishable now from the breathing soil, I am so surrendered to the wet and the dark that I can’t remember why it is that most people want only to rise. For I am still among the stars when I am near-buried in the dirt…and so are you. You, me, in both the soil and the stars are where the deepest alchemies occur. That is where the magic of being in a body and being human meet the majesty of our luminous essence, for they are one…our fiery beginnings and our secret fading…the fading we fear but which only becomes our renewal, which only makes our flame burn brighter and our blossom deeper, our glow ripple out wider and our fruit sweeter…
I too have been fascinated by the spark. It is so holy too, and meant to lead us to our next new birth. But loving the spark made me go deeper, into loving the darkness behind the twinkle. Into loving the fall…the fall from shining and brightness, the fall from what lights the way clearly and illuminates. I, who walked the underworld a thousand times, began to love it more dearly as the purest place of creation and beauty I could ever hope to know. While pain pressed my nose to the floor and bound my hands, I became a falling star and emptied myself of the shimmers I couldn’t take with me. I was lost, with my own consent, and the purity of darkness and loss left me more whole, with all the shimmers I could want to look forward to, whenever I could bear to shimmer again. And oh, how I will bear it with grace. For I will be a star not dependent on shining, or hiding, or anything else.
No matter how much I say about it, I can never explain my journey. In remembering so far back in my soul experiences, the rises and the falls look like waves in the great cosmic ocean. I sit now, on the weathered cliff above and watch it all, trusting my life and death, and the life and death of the world. Every ash not a loss but a new birth singing out from what is demolished and gone. Every loss a tribute to the greater love that never dies.
Eight years of varying levels of failing health, illness and treatment…pain too numinous to quantify at times…has served only to make me more the nymph I am, wandering this earth more animal than I had ever hoped to be able to feel. It has only strengthened everything I ever believed in, and encouraged me more than ever to teach it with my every breath. To model it, to show that even decay is only the process of making the nutrients for something more beautiful than has yet been imagined.
Not many can say they have hung on the hook of Innana and returned to life to share the way back. But wait, perhaps you have too? Perhaps you too have surrendered attachment to your very flesh in the name of visiting the lands beyond ocean and fire? Perhaps you too have traveled back to your origins, again and again, until you brought back the song on your skin? There is no right way to do this, only your way. And that is the essence of what I teach, and what I return to like my holiest temple…that is the pulse of life force to follow, to be aligned with your deepest Oracle self, and the way to remember the love that you are. Your way waits inside, calling you through your body and your epic heart.
And this will be a season of the emergence of the voice of that heart within you, guiding you through what nothing else could show you the way through. This is the moment when, more than ever before, you may begin to close your eyes and simply know. And perhaps, most profoundly, know that you don’t need to know. You just need to feel. As you feel the way will be shown to you. The wayless way that finally makes you feel like you are truly home.
Home, as each foot falls gently on the earth like a wave…exploring. Home, as new dimensions open up in your vision, and your life. Home as tears finally clear your eyes and you stand with a strength a child feels the first time they find that fluid place of balance in movement…before everything was fixed. Before you knew your name. When your name was something only the wind knew, and everything that you knew about yourself was perfect. Home, when your genius flowed from deep within…like a spring that never tired. It’s still there, breathing green night and fireflies, and it will never leave you. It is just waiting for you to climb back into the well and reconnect, naked and without promises, your trust wavering wildly but beginning to come back online like a brightening candle in a blackout. Dark and light merging in the place where all is love. Naked, dirty, wild and unbound. In love.
And you won’t have to push yourself anymore…not like before. Now the cocoon will fall away and you will emerge, precious and more vivid than seems possible. Finally seen in the light you were born in when butterflies were the dreams of sleeping goddesses. And finally…finally, you will see that there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing in this life or the last, nothing in this dimension or the others, nothing in this body or your soul. And the spell will be broken, and unicorns will rush from the ocean…free.
Shine if you are rising beautiful unicorn, and fade if you are falling…and know that none of it is something you did wrong, and there is invisible shine there too. Magical shine…there where it seems to be dark. Hurt if it hurts, run if you want to run…be afraid as long as fear is there to be felt. Be liberated and then lost, and then liberated again if that is what is on the offering plate of your sweet life, and toss the plate to the floor if it is time to rebel. Spit it out if you don’t want to eat it, rail against the cage, or fall into the cracks that open when your perfect soul timing reaches the ripeness it was waiting for. Fight and surrender, stir and sleep, until it all becomes a dance you can’t resist and in which there are no failings.
I will meet you where the stars fall, and we will drink the moonshine, and sing the songs of the forgotten and wake the new remembering of the ancient way to the home that’s always waiting…and we will dance the perfect dance of tears, and mud, and every resplendent, golden thread of love shocking us with beauty worthy of starlight and our original flames. You don’t have to do anything to get there, just rise and fall like breath.
pulse. pulse. pulse. pulse.
I love you.
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