After sitting on this for 2 weeks, I decided to publish this. The silence is still here.
I found the stillness again this week. The place where my head can be silent; when the roar of self doubt has been squelched into the faintest of whispers.
It wasn’t the camping that did it. Nor the sunrise over the Salton Sea or the glorious Milky Way or the smell of the pine trees.
It was the rage ritual.
Surrounded in a safe environment with a trusted guide, I searched out the visceral pain deep in my soul. It had the voice of a trusted someone who told me my consciousness wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter that she spoke these words from her own pain nor that she was busy creating her own drama of rejection, I took these words and made them real. Like the wine that leaves a residue when swirled before a taste, these words coated everything in my life. I had allowed them to define my very essence.
Which is why I found myself deep in the forest (literally and metaphorically) screaming at the top of my lungs. It was a primal scream, bouncing off the mountains and echoing back into my face, reverberating my pain for all to witness. Sobbing so hard I thought I would barf; a fleeting thought the sheriff would soon arrive for a welfare check. There was much, much more, a purging of my shattered soul, letting it all out to make room for my Truth to resurface.
The Question was asked. “Who Are You, Kat?” The answers proclaimed so loudly the trees shook, the hawk screamed and the woodpecker stopped to listen, all witnessing my intensity. There were many proclamations of power, the most memorable include:
“I AM THE TWINKLING PIXIE FAIRY”
“I AM THE FUCKING WOO WOO GIRL, DEAL WITH IT”
And my favorite:
“YOU DON’T GET TO TAKE AWAY MY SPARKLE, DAMMIT!” spoken with a rabid ferocity that is the very antithesis of the words.
Seeing them here in caps & bold can’t convey the raw power I felt nor the absolute knowingness of reclaiming my true essence. I sit and ponder them now, not sure that I will ever publish this post.
The actual ritual ended with 3 Ohm’s, ringing out over the land.
Later on, rocking in the dirt, a song I learned bubbled up.
I am the light
I am the light
I am the light of this world.
And I shine
And I shine
And I shine so bright.
It has been 5 days since that ritual and I have a sense of space within my body. The voice of limitations is quiet and there is a feeling of expectancy, like moving into a new home and getting a chance to decorate from scratch. Some beloved possessions are still here but the uncomfortable stained chair is gone, making room for something better. I have the emptiness within that is ready to be redefined.
It is time for me to spread my fairy wings and fly.