The new moon fell on this week, and I bet its effects have been felt in one way or another by almost everyone.
This isn’t surprising considering we are all particles of energy vibrating and interacting in some way with other particles of energy. I mean, the sooner we spend time seriously contemplating the implications of this, turning the concept around in our minds to see all angles, testing in our experience through our bodies, exploring the feelings and signs this greater intelligence communicates through, the sooner we might be able to close the circle on our previous cycle of learning, stop perpetuating the same stories over and over and begin a new exploration of what it means to be alive.
I don’t know about you, but my dreams this week have been wild. Stories from deep within my unconscious that set patterns my mind adopts as programs, all coming up and seeking my attention. Over and over like pond-weed ridden bog hags from the oozing depths of my experience, they drip their dramas liberally into my dreams and I welcome them with open arms.
I have spent years facing my shadow monster and instead of succumbing to fear like before, feeling I have to fight it off, blast it with light, push it away with my positive thinking and love, as I cower under my new crystalline wings, I can now look at it and ask, “what are you showing me?”
Ha, famous last words. It’s like, oh yeah! Then goes away, regroups, and comes back with even more force to batter me into submission. I keep telling it not to bother because we are one after all. Shadow monsters, can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.
I take what it shows me, bless it for the learning experience and allow for it to return to the boggy parts of the earth to be recycled into new life. This humus, rich in life experiences nourishes my tender roots and feeds my unfolding. It is part of the process of creation, in all its fractal presentations. If we are on the road to remembering our Oneness we have to acknowledge all things as part of us. Another concept that we would benefit from giving some serious consideration to the implications of, not just in an intellectually abstract way.
After many years we have come to a truce, my shadow monster and I, or at least a new way of engaging with each other (I hope). I no longer look at it as hideous and scary but as an aspect of me I hurt by ignoring. Even my feet as I sleep, seek out new corners of my bed, telling my mind as they do so, to come into this unexplored recess and shine the light of awareness on it. There seems to be no escape from the work being asked of us at the moment, even in our sleep. God dammit.
So, let’s give it attention, that’s what I say, let’s work through the energy (or information if you prefer that word) in the best way we can, with as much presence as we can. And be gentle with ourselves in the process because its fricking hard sometimes. We’re dealing with inexplicable waves of deep sadness, irritation, anxiety, ringing in the ears, dizziness, feeling spaced out, almost like popping in and out of consciousness. Waves of nausea and funny digestion. Never feeling good, not bad but not good either. Weird breathing patterns or feeling like you haven’t been breathing at all. Deep fatigue but the mind is popping, you’re not sure what about but it’s definitely downloading something and disturbs your sleep. Strange rushes of energy through the hands and body, sometimes tingling, almost zapping, sometimes like a flowing electro-magnetic force. I could go on and many of you will recognise what I say as these symptoms ebb and flow.
I mean, none of this is easy, especially when you are confused about what the hell is going on. So, it’s helpful to not be too hard on yourself, that’s always a good start, and do what you need to do to nourish all aspects of your being. Then look inwards and do the work. Think, explore, experience, release, learn, grow, breathe, most importantly just keep breathing.
With that in mind I decided I needed a massage. After years with no treatments, the time had come to finally give my body some loving attention. Take it slow and look after yourself, has been the constant message since I caught Covid in February. But before booking it I have to chop some wood and bring it in, make breakfast, wash it all up, get Eli to school, do some admin, throw in some laundry and before I know it another day has gone and I have forgotten about looking after my body, besides the odd squat and lunge around my kitchen as I reach for a spatula, or bend down to grab a mixing bowl.
I had gotten over my grump hump from last week but I was feeling really run down and a bit like a swamp ogre to be honest, Shrek would be proud. Considering I had been in the same clothes for almost a week, I’m sure I smelt like a swamp ogre too, to be fair. To make matters worse I developed a horrendous cold sore under my nose and I got a spot, like a big one, in a very obvious place. If I ever do emerge from my house again, I may well have turned into the bog hag. I could become a new village legend and join the ranks of Mary Magdalene, gnomes and dragons. Every village needs a good bog hag story, that could be me.
I haven’t been sleeping properly either, waking up suddenly from vivid dreams, then spending the remainder of the night in this fluid, in-between state where dreams blend into waking moments, images conjured in my mind, spirits talking to me, bleeding into my dreams. Restless tossing and turning as my feet seek new recesses in my mind to bring to the surface. Oh well, best to get it over with. The more people push it away or banish with light and positive thinking the longer this whole process will take and the harder the lessons will become.
During my daylight hours I am at the beck and call of over demanding pets and normal levels of demanding child, who all seem to want feeding all day long and somehow, although very good at opening doors can never close them again. If I had a penny for every time I have to close the back door I could be a lady of leisure. Or hire a doorman. By Monday I was already a blemished wreck, hanging on by my last strand of strength. Not the best start to the week.
“Mummmmmmmy! Mummmmmmmy!” I hear my son from the heights of the Kingdom of Eli (his room) as I am hoovering up the dirt brought into the house by Pipoca, who loves to lie on the sawdust pile left over from Pedro building the shed. All these big flakes attach themselves to his long fur which he then takes great pleasure in bringing back into the house and spreading everywhere, along with his hair. I love my life (actually, I really do even though I jokingly complain)
“Yes!” I shout back
“ndejhfbc nljkbdc” I can’t hear him over the hum of the hoover, it all sounds like unintelligible nonsense.
“What?”
“dbdjkg fnjskhj skcdnj”
“I can’t hear you! Don’t shout at me, come and talk to me! How many times do I have to tell you!”
I switch the hoover off in a huff absolutely aware that I did shout back in the beginning and therefore encouraged this unnecessarily loud form of non-communication. I vow (again) to try very hard next time to immediately ask him to come down and talk to me without shouting. Oh well, one day I will remember. They do say repetition is a way to train the brain and as Will Smith announced this week, “I am a work in progress”.
The world trembles as he thumps his way down our wooden stairs, the sound echoing around the house gives the illusion of a full herd of some large mammal on the rampage. He is not upset, I should clear that up. This is not the thumping of a huffing teenager, or pre-teen. No, this is Eli’s normal way of moving around the house. There is no silent stalking in the woods with him, or anywhere to be precise. Believe me, I’ve tried – many times. He has zero concept of what it means to be light of foot. Bless him.
“Mummy, I’m hungry” he whines as he gets closer.
“Well, have some fruit” I know he’ll say no unless he can negotiate a sweeter deal. Everything with Eli has to be negotiated. I really do think that one day he would make a marvellous politician.
“I want some biscuits”
“No, you can have fruit”
“No, mummy!” he whines some more, “three Biscuits?”
“No, have some carrots then. You need to eat nourishing foods, fruit and vegetables, things like that”
“Ok I’ll have a banana and one biscuit. Come on, that’s fair!”
Pipoca, who has evidently been outside on the sawdust pile strolls over to the closed back door, jumps up and opens it. He wonders right past me and my nice clean floor, dripping bits of garden debris everywhere whilst leaving a trail of damp and slightly muddy footprints.
I need a massage.
I drop the hoover and go to my phone, ignoring whining child and muddy floor, and I book in there and then. Sophie! I need you and your magic hands.
And the massage was heavenly. I firmly recommend them, Sophie and Pedro from Heartwork Therapies. They are beautiful healers, attentive, present, intuitive. I was transported during my treatment to another life in another place in space and time. I was being massaged by my Amma, my nurse, as we laughed and she whispered secrets of the moon and river to me. She seeded the mysteries deep within my mind in that time and here in the now they were being unlocked under strong, skilful hands and clear heart. They bring all their equipment to your house and are amazing.
Since then, I feel increasingly better. A peace has settled over me and I wonder why I have been neglecting myself for so long? I definitely need to catch up and am already thinking about whether next week is too soon to have another treatment. It’s not too soon, is it? I’ve got seven years of pent-up toxins to work through this body and with all the shadow work going down right now I need everything to be processing as smoothly as possible. Also, it would be quite nice to emerge from this cocoon as a gorgeous butterfly and not the bog hag, if all truth be told. I mean, I accept the role of bog hag if it has to come to that, but I’d prefer something a tad more luminant.
And yet, with each day that passes I feel stronger, more myself, more inspired (still going to get another massage though). I've been thinking a lot about the direction I want to take Wild Swan Living lately and slowly a picture is coming more into focus. Questions I had are now connecting with answers. Disparate ideas previously irreconcilable finding a harmony in a bigger picture, a picture bigger than I thought possible, than I had even wanted before; perhaps for fear of failing, I don’t know.
But I am discovering that I do believe in myself and that perhaps, after all, I do want it, that I know it would be amazing. That deep down it is everything I have ever dreamed of, and I think I deserve a bit of amazing in my life after everything I’ve been through...
...intriguing.
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