I feel a bit…lost. Again. I don’t know what I need to do to overcome some of these obstacles, or even what some of them might be. I feel the moment I finally decided that I would tread this path, it disappeared, or part of it fell out from beneath me. The silence of the cosmos is deafening. Is this a test? Am I not ready? Or am I unworthy of moving forward? Do I simply need to “let go”, that awful phrase that dogs me every bloody day when I’m holding on, and stymies me when my grip is loosened…when did the letting go happen? How did I get it to happen? I’ve been contemplating my fears in small amounts, because I believe that my greatest road block is fear of my own power, and my own chaos. I know what earthly dark things lurk, I can only guess at what other realm-y things are out there. Listening to Ariel and Fey bring me confidence that I can become more of who I am if I dedicate myself to my studies. But then my eyes keep finding the other side…everywhere I turn, I’m finding all the scary stuff. And not just dark alley scary, but incredible, unfathomable fury; dark, swirling chaos kind of scary. And I am scared of it, there’s no point in tip-toeing around that fact.
I’ve discussed previously about my thoughts on deity, and how there’s no discernible personalities for me at this point. I basically relate to pantheism the best right now. But what I do find interesting is that I feel some sort of prickly stuff (my psychic ju-ju or energy or whatever you want to call it) and information that keeps coming to the forefront of my life regarding (especially) Hecate and The Morrigan. I’m not sure if this is a sign (it doesn’t feel like my usual signs), or simply that because I’m immersed in all this reading where these deities are bound to show up. I know I’ve been grappling a bit with mortality, pain, disease, death, transformation and incredible fear of the wild, so maybe that’s what all this is about. Though deities haven’t presented themselves to me in these “humanistic” aspects, I’m a bit superstitious about uttering the names of gods, goddesses, and also things that one might consider “prophetic”, casually. (Perhaps it stems back to the theory that when one hears the true name of god, one is facing their own earthly demise). In fact, despite my innate ability to babble on, there are some things I utter with great care, or not at all. To me, it can be careless and dangerous to use certain information or names frivolously. I think it might stem from the theory of magic: we create our environments, and thereby our fates, with our words, thoughts and actions. I fundamentally believe this, even if the term ‘magic’ has gotten a bad wrap or certain connotations associated with it.
I’m intensely superstitious about discussing some of my darkest horrors and experiences for fear of manifestation. I also harbor the shame of thinking that this ultimately makes me a coward, that I’m not brave enough to face these horrors. The thing is, though, I HAVE faced horrors. I’ve not always been proud of how I’ve dealt with these things, but I have dealt with, and learned from, them. When I heard what ‘pathworking’ and ‘journeying’ were all about (as Fey brilliantly describes them on her podcasts), it brought me straight back to my experiences with PTSD, and I recognize that a lot of what my therapy consisted of was nightly journeying, but clumsily and without focus, unbidden, intense and horrific. I would encounter my attacker directly, sometimes with my waking eyes even, and I had repeated dreams that I could wake from and open my eyes, yet still be in the dream. My mom said once I was banging my head against the wall but remained completely unconscious. I used to wake every morning with tears streaming down my face and my blankets would be in knots. I was blessed to have a fantastic and very skilled therapist, but PTSD wasn’t really a popular term at that point (the term had just become an officially added term to the psychiatric manuals about 6 or 7 years prior to my diagnosis) and nor was there a whole lot of information available. He (a Vietnam vet and PTSD-diagnosed as well) helped me work with these dreams, and I suspect he gave me guidance in how to shape the outcome of my dreams, because I started to slowly become less paralyzed by them and able to have lucid dreams, though my PTSD symptoms continued to hinder my everyday life for a number of years. I slept with all the lights on and showered with a pair of scissors and crippling fear for many years, and I cannot work in solitary environments to this day. I could go on and on about my struggles with this, but I wanted to mention the journeying thing because I was floored to find that that’s something our minds can do to work through stuff, and do so in relative safety when it’s focused.
Of note:: I’ve been unsuccessful in establishing any contact or information regarding my guides lately, at least that I can recall in waking consciousness. I’m certain I’ve got at least two, one who feels feminine and old, like a grandmother, and another whom I do not get any kind of sense of other than a presence behind me. This unnerves me a bit as I seem to associate a presence behind someone as an omen for illness and death (which I suppose is because of my mother-in-law’s experiences before she died, for I cannot find any other reason to think this). I’ve been doing Ariel’s spirit meditations, and also his Avalon Journey meditation. I need to try meditating solo again because I seem to really have my cosmic eyes and ears open that way, but I’ve started to become really agitated with this method as of late, so I try not to sweat it and simply enjoy the guided meditations.
I guess I’ll just keep plugging along.