In conversation with myself and loved ones I've found myself stating, "It's like I'm dying," or "I feel like I'm dying," or just the straight up BAM, "I Am Dying." Chronic illness has had the worry over mortality nagging the edges of my mind for some time, but the process of recovery from my recent surgery, along with a second one that is just around the bend, has aggressively shoved all those shadows to the forefront. There's no ignoring or side-stepping. Time to walk through. These words bubble up and out of me, like a force that has no choice but to get into open air...to breathe, to be seen and heard.
Each time it happens, time slows and the moment is magnified. "Pay Attention," it says. Over the years I've come to realize these kinds of moments mean intuition is kicking in. My higher self is calling out. Spirit is speaking to me.
So I've noticed. And while I've been falling down Alice's rabbit hole, I've tantrumed against the forced experience, but also tried to hold a curiosity about it. So I'm dying. What does that mean? A literal end to this life? Likely not. At least for now...no. So it's a transformation, shedding of skin, and a close look at value, intention, and desire, among many other things. Amidst it all, and in Divine timing, I have been sent supports. Friends, family, an unexpected book or poem, a song that I finally really *hear* for the first time, the offer to join a course in facing shadow work for self-healing of emotional pain (shout out to the amazing @TanyaMarkul @thugunicorn). Many times I've looked in the mirror and seen a tired and broken woman looking back. Her face is pale and blotchy. Her shoulders slouch under a hidden weight. Her chest rises with shallow breathe and tired air. "I'm so sorry," I've said to her through tears. "I've tried all I know to try." And she's cried with me. When I was asked recently to tell my story, I pictured that kind of moment. I see her. I love her. My heart breaks for her pain. Physical. Emotional. All of it. I wish her peace. I wish her solace. I tell her our truth...we are dying. But this time she replies no, we are coming alive. Hands together, we step forward into all that dark.
....
Poem: "Facing Shadows"
"I'm dying,"
I said
to the careworn face
in my mirror.
"No," she replied.
"You are
coming alive."
