Dark Moon || Unpublished February

Wow, this Dark Moon has been intense.

Anyone else feeling it?

I personally adore it.

It feels like I have been standing in the Eye as the winds strip away all that has been keeping me bound. 

Obsessive, cyclical thoughts.

Engrained habits.

Limiting beliefs.

Heavy, dense, unhealthy attachments.

All of which I have been untangling—for years.

Fingers arduously and painstakingly pulling at each knot

loosening them.

Maddening work, that keeps us in a state of hyper-focus and nearsightedness.

It feels so different when you take a step back and realize that that work is done.

I can let it go now.

I believe we have to spend time in that kind of hell.

If we're immediately trying to just let go without doing any of the internal work —it's definitely spiritual bypassing. 

As Carl Jung said, "No tree, it is said, can grow to heaven unless its roots reach down to hell."

We have to spend time in the roots.

We have to allow the noxious poisons and toxicity and venom to rise out of our deep wounds, if we actually want to heal them. 

This is so uncomfortable.

It is not light or love or rainbows.

It can be messy, chaotic, ugly, nasty, cruel, truly hellish.

And kudos for the people who can hold space for this feral state of being.

(Feral is a dangerous state of being; one in which we are more prone to lash out, much "like" a wounded animal. But it is a consequence of living in a society that teaches us to trap our inherent darkness/shadow into the furthest recesses of our psyches. We must become feral on our way to wildness. Wildness is not dangerous in the same way; it just is. I could write a whole passage about this; maybe I will. But I digress.)

The key is to not stagnate in this state of being feral.

We must allow ourselves to move up, and out, of the roots of hell. For our nebulous pain to transmute into deep medicine, to push up and flower out into heaven.  

I keep seeing an image of a woman emerging from the debris as it crumbles away, rising through the smoke and ash. 

And I know that woman is me.