For a bit, I tricked myself into accepting that while I may have been some traditional sort of medicine person in a previous life -- obtaining the “legit” education, credentials, and titles was the way, in this lifetime, I was supposed to actualize being a facilitator of healing. For as long as I can remember, I’ve fought an internal battle, with pen or typewriter as my go-to weapon, based on the earthly notion these two ways of being could or should not reside within the same place: the space of me. At least not peacefully. That is, until now.
[transitional sip of tea, deep inhale]
If I were to let go and speak my truth, I would describe aloud and loud that when I intentionally attune to people, I see rings. Like a cross-section of a tree trunk. Each ring a lifetime. The rings have different weights, different sized spaces in between. Weights determined by karmic traumas, spaces between showing the gaps and openings, the cracked ways -- each gifts of safe passage.
The rings, like a spider’s web, are connected by lines, also of particular weights and spaces in between. Lines in relationship with the rings, sometimes bold as arrowheads, showing the direction towards the way in (the way in, being the way out), sometimes faded as day moons showing the progress you’ve already made on your sh*t.
It’s in these in between spaces, the shadow spaces, where things like grief get stuck. It’s the same in between spaces, the shadow spaces, where things like joy are released. The a-ha point being: these shadow spaces are the same thing -- what was a crack is now a portal.
So, I guess this is something to know about me -- that I’m a seer of the spaces in between. Super cool when I see and feel the most efficient way for someone to enter their healing process. Even if it’s not me who guides them on the rest of their shadow journey, I’m humbled and stoked to offer the capacity of finding the gifts of safe passage.