I am feeling all the feelings this morning.
It's been this big storm swirling in my heart and gut for a few days, and I woke up this morning with it heavy and clunky inside my body. And just like that I felt more human than spirit, more matter than energy. And I'm openly and wildly resisting it. (Which usually doesn't help.)
I'm always a little miffed when my energy cycles back to the common. I have been entrenched in this healing work for many devoted years now, and I find myself believing that I should be immune to the "normal" spectrum of emotions. Why can't it just be rainbows and sunshine all the time?
Contrast. This is why.
Because pain breeds compassion. And compassion spreads love. And love expands consciousness. And that is why we are here.
I have been crazy sensitive to the energy of others around me lately, and I would gladly love for the Universe to show me how to change that. Mostly it's a sensitivity to pain and to the sharp opinions other feel against me in defense of themselves. That's the best way to describe it. Me being me causes a rise of something in someone else. They then project it outward, and I just receive it with these big open arms, like, "Hey! You! Send all your suffering my way! Woo hoo! Thanks!"
No. Thank. You.
But, in the name of contrast, I am admittedly growing in compassion. For myself. For them. For the pain they must be feeling daily. For this process of life and how we grow through a seesaw of light and darkness.
The higher part of me knows that the seesaw is floating upwards. And it knows that the lows aren't as low anymore, and that the highs are getting even higher. But it's hard to see the big, bright bundle of balloons buoying the seesaw up, up, up when you're on the dark side with your arms crossed tightly against your chest.
Open. Relax. Lean in. That's what the energy tells me. Breathe. Release. It's okay to let it move. Cry. Stomp. Pout. And then open. Expand.
My husband and I have been rolling through some big decisions lately about what comes next for us on many fronts. Professionally. Geographically. Financially. And as much as we've juiced every corner of our brains for the answer, we haven't been finding flow. Nothing has popped out in that big "SURPRISE!" kind of way that it normally does.
So two nights ago we were propped in our normal spots in bed having our normal meandering conversation when he just said it. "Why don't you use your gifts for our questions? Why don't you just tap in on our behalf? You can do it for other people; why not us?"
And I honestly clenched. And tightened. And then thought of a million reasons why it wouldn't work.
And then I took a deep inhale. And I exhaled the fear of not knowing the answer. And I exhaled the fear of being wrong. And I exhaled the fear of being a fraud. And I said, "okay, I'll do it."
So there we sat.
It was awkward at first because I normally do readings when I'm alone. I prefer the house to be empty, and I have an entire (albeit short) ritual that I do to prepare myself and my space. The ringing of my tinkshas. The summoning of the spirits. The selection of just the right crystals. The music, the breathing, the sanctity.
But this was different. Way different. And my mentor has told me again and again that anything unknown is GOOD. If we keep getting the known, then we're not creating anything new. So I repeated that to myself. "This is different. This is good. This is different. This is good."
I started to get comfortable, propping myself up with pillows as I always do. Crossing my legs and arranging myself just so. And I think B sensed my need for space. So he gently slid from the bed and sat in the armchair just next to it. He smiled sweetly and closed his eyes and went within to his own quiet space. He was here in body, but he allowed me to be alone in mind.
I stumbled through the start. I closed my eyes and tried to tap in, but I realized I had forgotten the crystals. He felt my discomfort and opened his eyes, whispering softly, "Do you have your danburite?" It was a gentle reminder, an easy nudge.
I nervously grabbed the crystal from my bedside table and tried to tune in again.
Nothing,
I rifled through my box of stones again and pulled out the shiva lingam.
Yes. Better.
I closed my eyes once more and began to breathe through my body. From the root upwards, ever ascending the energy up, up, up.
Nothing.
"My music!" I said out loud. B smiled and I fumbled for my phone to cue the favorite song I always prefer when I'm reading for someone.
It was like we were teenagers having sex for the first time. Fumbling with buttons, awkwardly finding just the right song. Except the union we were seeking wasn't with each other.
I settled myself back down, the music crooning, the stones heavy in each hand, my palms open to receive and my legs crossed in devotion.
I honestly don't hold the belief that things have to be "just so" to read energy. I don't think the Divine requires any sort of ritual or magic crystal to pop in and say hello. But it was about me finding comfort. My rituals are the security blanket that calm me enough to find stillness and to realize that the energy was always there waiting.
And just like that it happened.
In moments I forgot B was even there, and I was cradled in the Oneness. My body shook and swayed, tremors of energy racing up and down my spine. I moaned out in pleasure and allowed the questions to tick through my psyche like a typewriter changing lines again and again.
And I received. The images raced across my third eye, and my whole body shook with tears and laughter and pleasure and pain. The answers came. The encouragements. The sweet, sweet messages of love and patience and of seeing things in a new way.
I realize that this is what the energy does for us. It helps us see things in a new way. It isn't magic like poofing a genie out of a bottle. It is magic as illusion, because illusion is always about focus. It is this realization that you've been stubbornly and steadfastly focused in one direction all while there was something very real and quite spectacular that could have been happening if you'd focused your gaze just a little to the left or right.
The energy adjusts our sight line, and it shows a few new possibilities in the infinite well of possibilities.
And for me it simply reminded me to be present. To come back to now. And to revel in the generous present moment instead of torturing myself with a twisted version of a nonexistent future.
When I was complete, B sat with rapt attention ready to hear the download. One by one I listed off our inquiries and explained the images, feelings and messages I received. The furrow at his brow released. The skin on his face relaxed. The light began shining brighter and brighter from his eyes. And in what felt like an infinite moment, he was free. We both were. We had gone from imprisoned to liberated in just a few minutes of bathing in a new energy.
It felt like magic. And we were both awash with hope and gratitude. And we both promised to hold onto this feeling and to not let ourselves get so balled up again.
But dammit, that's hard sometimes.
Even with the breakthrough we had that night, the crunchiness has still been following me this weekend, annoyingly making racket with every step, every thought. And I just keep seeing the images they showed me in that reading.
Open hands.
Receiving is the answer. I saw again and again this vision of the clenched fist, how every question we had was just another version of the tightly closed fist. Even if the answer had come along, we wouldn't have been able to grab hold of it because our knuckles were white with pressure and our skin was taut with determination. There was no flat space for the delicate feather of a miracle to land.
And so that's where I'm at this morning. That is why I sit here replaying that night in my mind. I am admittedly still feeling the crunch, and I'm honestly floating somewhere on the low end of the seesaw. But by God I'm prying open those fingers and coaxing my heart to create a landing strip for something better to come along and surprise me.
Something to carry this energy up, up, up.