First, I get to be shallow.
This weekend I bought a crap load of cheap stuff from the clearance section at Linens N Things, finally decorating my house enough to make it look cozy and lived in. I did this on a bizarre whim, after receiving a couch and a few decorative items as hand-me-downs from Mom. It’s like I saw what the house could be like if I just spent a tiny chunk on furniture, and wahlah, I got the bug.
End result: Just two sets of curtains and a couple of barstools (imagine, a place to actually SIT AND EAT) made me cry. CRY. I just felt so blessed, so cocoon-ed, so relieved to have a sacred place to recharge and unwind and transform inside. My meditation/reading room is now officially open for business.
Speaking of business, the planets/stars have been doing some strange voodoo on me lately. I have a natal moon/transiting moon/transiting Neptune aspect going down, and this combo creates a mad amount of psychic energies, out of body experiences, insecurity/safety issues, and hardcore dreams. I have had all of these things in spades.
Case in point: I’ve been having dreams of Seeker lately. He’s the one that brought me to the Amazon the first time – the dynamic king of Hollywood that was so hell bent on destroying himself, he blew up hard enough to burn down the people who loved him too. I allowed this, of course, but our break-up, to this day, was the single most painful revelation I’ve gone through, love-wise, and I could never understand how I could give him such power.
Until 2 nights ago.
We were back at the lodge where everything fell apart for us, in my beloved jungle, after my second Ayahuasca ceremony. This was the Nightmare Night, an evening I prayed for death, quite literally, because my reality had suddenly become far too demonic and emotionally crippling to cope with. Seeker was telling me about his magical evening – the best of his life – where the whole wide world revealed itself to him. He told me about meeting his soul family – a few people that he knew in this life who were also eternal connections – and I remember lying there in complete agony, wanting him to just stop talking so I could understand why I had gone to hell and couldn’t claw myself back. Suddenly, I accepted the notion that if he were to tell me that I, too, was his spiritual connection, that he saw me in his visions and we were bonded forever and ever, in any fashion, that perhaps I could be OK again. Perhaps that could be my life raft.
He never said any such thing. In fact, he spent the entire night talking about his ex-girlfriend – who cheated on him with his best friend, no less – who was in fact an angel, and that he forgave her and couldn’t wait to talk to her again.
Salt on wound? Try hydrochloric acid on an amputee victim. I was done for.
In my dream, however, he took me back to that night and showed me what was in his heart. He literally cracked open his chest to reveal animations of his thoughts. Somehow, I deciphered his messages, and realized that he avoided sharing that I, too, was on his Cosmic Carousel, but he felt too vulnerable to share it with me. He already knew I was going to leave him – spirit had shown him that too – so he kept the information from me to protect himself.
I accepted this. I told him he had been forgiven already, and that none of that mattered anymore.
He, however, was very persistent.
A third party joined us – a faceless dragonfly woman with a computerized, ultra-feminine voice. She told his we had known each other in more than 100 lives, and that we are always teaching each other lessons. I made a wisecrack about how he must love being reincarnated as an asshole, and she basically said that it’s those who hurt us the most that teach us the most as well.
This dream has had an effect. It all makes a beautiful amount of sense to me, though I can’t say I completely agree with dragonlady’s logic – I have learned plenty from those who have loved me in a caring and gentle fashion too. But if you think about it, those who choose to come back into a lifetime to actually hurt a soul mate in order to teach them the things they have chosen to learn – that’s a tremendous amount of selfless love. I believe in these dances, these pre-determined yet highly erratic and unpredictable turns, with all that I am.
It’s weird that wild revelations like these now make perfect sense to me. Sure, my destructive ex-boyfriend is actually an old spiritual connection that, in part, came back down as a colossal prick in order to grant me a little growth and salvation. I can see that. If I ever see him again – in this lifetime, anyway – I will sincerely say thank you.
But unfortunately, these types of acknowledgments do little to console me when I’m in my all too often crying sprees, continuously feeling the pain of that and different rejections, continuously trying to process all this baggage I haven’t yet released. I do a far better job of accepting the grievances thrown at me than I do the gentle love and adoration. That’s a conundrum, a huge imbalance, and something that continues to baffle and frustrate me.
So I have a sanctuary to escape to, to cry inside of, to purge these demons, and to plot my return as a healer, a focused, strong, capable giver. That is, when the stars align, which they will, in short order
Today is not that day.
Today I’m the little girl who is saddened and confused – a head full of knowledge but a heart full of sobby little breakdowns.
