Branches vs roots

Tags

Anxiety, Bad Old Days, branches, Change, clarity, cloud of doom, Confusion, Courage, dread, Expunged, Fear, gunk, Kinesiology, Nourishment, Panic, peace, Purged, remnants, roots, routed, self-honesty, source, That Which Has Been, Universe, wading boots

This entire universe and everything it contains comes from the same place. This I believe unreservedly.

Our roots are common, but it’s difficult to keep that in mind when you think of yourself as one of the branches somewhere at the top of the tree, far removed from the root system even as it ultimately provides the nourishment we need to exist.

We forget, and find it hard to identify with the whole tree, let alone the source of life that animates us. And we think that if we lose all or part of a branch or twig that we associate with ourselves, it’s a catastrophe. That life as we know it is over…

We get stressed, freaked out and whatever other reactions seem appropriate at the time. But this is just change. And our response to change is only as severe as our association with those things that are a-changing. To feel better, we have to learn to let go.

This concept can be applied to our lives at all kinds of macro and micro levels. Easier said than done sometimes, however!

And I’m reminding myself of this quite purposefully today as I prepare for this evening’s appointment with Kerry from Awaken Kinesiology.

I made the booking last month when I realised I was having some sort of intense energetic response to my five year anniversary. Because I want the remnants of all that gunk routed. Purged. Expunged. So bring it on!!

However, my body has other ideas and is bestowing a rather visceral response in anticipation of this appointment: fear in my belly, anxiety in my heart, confusion and panic in my mind (making things all cloudy and fluffy).

Seems crazy, this little cloud of doom I’m sporting on this gloriously blue-skied and sunny Spring day. The sunshine is matter of fact and reminds me that everything is going to be just fine. Yet, this morning I had to drag my sorry ass out of bed, like the Bad Old Days.

I know it’s all good and I WANT this for myself. Clearly though, there’s more than a few bits and pieces quietly haunting my insides. I function pretty normally now (whatever that means!) compared to how things have been. And maybe for some people that’d be enough. But it’s not enough for me, not by half.

So I’m pulling on my wading boots to trek through the muck. Time for another clean up, you see.

And it has to be done, despite the physical experience of dread that accompanies such ventures. This post is by way of gathering a little courage and exposing what’s going on in my body and mind for what it is: fear of change, even if that change is for the good.

I’m not just the branches, I’m the roots too. Especially the roots!

So here’s to more clarity, self-honesty, peace and freedom from the corset-like confines of That Which Has Been.

And here’s to a little more peace for y’all on this lovely day, too.

Om Shanti!

~Svasti xo

It’s all in your head

Tags

Ahamkara, Chinnamasta, Cravings, Desire, Dreams, Guru, Headless, Ida, Kevin Costner, Limitations, Meditation, Nourishment, Pingala, Shakti, Shiva, Spirituality, Sushumna, Waterworld, Wrathful

Little known goddess Chinnamasta, a wrathful incarnation of Ma, who in effect is really Shakti, who’s Shiva anyway… is not as wrathful as she seems. Least, not in the way we Westerners tend to define wrath.

Looking so fierce and scary, she decapitates herself to provide nourishment for her companions, the three of them wandering as they are (but really, are Ida, Pingala and Sushumna).

The other two were hungry (spiritually, energetically?) and so without ego, Chinnamasta removes her head, providing the ultimate life-giving nourishment. In the process, ridding herself of an appendage that often gets us lesser mortals in strife. The ‘home’ of the mind (which has no home in the physical body), the ahamkara (I-maker/ego).

Headless… the very idea, generally considered gruesome, but I sorta know how she feels.

Or at least, my dream self does.

Vivid and seemingly non-stop in my formative years (circa primary school era), a series of dreams, a little bit like one of those American soaps you can pick up on ten years later – ever unfolding at snails-pace with lots of scenes repeated.

Everything submersed in water, a bit like Waterworld, except (thankfully) not starring Kevin Costner and my soporiferous thoughts occurred long before that movie regretfully saw the light of day.

Some water was deeper than others, but a fair bit was only chest high. The name of the game in this world – don’t lose your head.

Had to keep watch for the ‘knights’ (I don’t think they were knights, but they rode on horseback and carried swords). The thing to do if they were around, was submerge yourself fully, hold your breath and wait for them to go away.

Because, we all knew what happened to those who were caught: decapitation.

This water-covered world flooded my nocturnal landscape with frequency. But I’d be doing something a little different every time. Playing with my friends, at school or in some other part of the world I wasn’t quite familiar with. Each time they came, we’d duck. Or I’d duck, if alone. Each time we survived we congratulated ourselves.

Every so often, amidst this night-time play, I found myself in something of a predicament. Caught.

Then, my head was gone. My neck relieved of its weight, rolled off to who knows where.

Curiously, I did not die. In fact, with every passing moment I discovered the freedom of the headless. I could still breathe, and talk and think. I was not my head, my head was not me.

Running through my schoolyard, testing my new way of being. Found a horrified looking friend or two, and tried to say – look, there’s no need for your head! I’m still okay, I’m alive and now I don’t need to hide from the knights!

Was it terror, disinterest or perhaps disdain for something different? Or the lot? They weren’t buying it. They had no interest in this new, headless me.

Sure, it was strange but pleasant and yet, so lonely. No one else wanted to willingly have their head cut off, too. They kept up their ducking and hiding and their noggins on their shoulders.

And I… got bored being the only one with this kind of freedom. What fun is there, if you’re the only one?

So, by the powers of the dreamscape where all things are possible, I found my head re-attached. And life went on…

There’s much of life we think of as occurring in our mind. There’s much we create in our mind we think of as this world, much larger than it really is. Causing confusion and loss.

Loss – of a limb, an idea, thoughts or people from our life, generating heartbreak. We feel it in the chest region (at least I do, and cuttingly so) though that heartbreak is self-created and projected outwards, as though it’s happening to us, instead of coming from us.

Chinnamasta’s messages are many, but include the idea of self-love and self-sacrifice for the benefit of many, which in the end, benefits you, too.

Doing away with the need to duck and hide, and assuming the worst when, for all we know, there’s more freedom on the other side than we can ever imagine from this vantage point.

I know now, what it is I crave.

~Svasti