My visit to Isis Cove last week, home of the Venus Rising Institute for Shamanic Healing Arts, was extremely transformative. It was great just to be on the land, to visit the sacred sites, tour the facilities, and spend time with my soul-brother Brad.
When I sat down to dinner with Brad and Star Wolf I did not know what I was in for. It came up in conversation some mention of the Tower Card from the Tarot, and Star Wolf remembered that I had drawn the Tower at the onset of my first breath-work session with her several months ago.
I remarked that it felt like I was still in a “Tower” cycle of death and rebirth, and that it was becoming tiring. She looked straight into my soul and said I had been in the fire for a good long time, and if I was going to fully embrace my soul’s purpose I would first need to surrender. I was not surprised; I knew she was right, but I did not exactly know what I needed to release or what might receive me.
Complete and utter surrender, which is a touchstone of every major religion, means you allow to come to you whatever will come, without any management or willing on your part.
It became apparent to me on my drive home that night exactly what I had to surrender. It was my attachment to another, to circumstances, and to desired outcomes. I needed to surrender my attachment to my desires. So, the previous week that opened for me the Via Negativa ushered me now into my literal “dark night of the soul”.
I lay on the bed in my Airstream, because the house still smelled like wet dog, and stared at the ceiling until the sun came up. I tried to sleep, but that is not part of the process. I came to learn in the light of day what the night had told me. It was time again to set my desires on the fiery altar and hope for abundant ashes.
Then I stepped into Jubilee services on Sunday and the theme was: “letting go”. I laughed out loud.
I need to frame this by explaining that in the last year I have learned to cry. It has been part of my own breaking and opening and it has been extremely cathartic and beneficial. So during my “dark night of the soul” and the following day I had tried to gather up the tears I knew would greatly assist my surrender, but all I had was kind of a dull empty feeling, and dry eyes.
Then at the beginning of the Sunday service, when they call in the directions, the dam broke. It wasn’t blubbering – it was just little man tears that I could dab with my fingers.
Then there was a song about letting go and I closed my eyes and saw my beautiful beloved floating away from me on Oak Creek dressed in a burial gown.
All the mucus in my head became quite liquid and my hands could not soak up all the moisture. Just as I had deposited a copious amount of mucus from my upper lip to my hand, Pastor Howard said, “Take the hand of the persons next to you.” I thought, “God has a sense of humor.” I wiped my hand on my pants while the lady next to me looked on quizzically, with hand outstretched.
Keep in mind – I don’t know these people. Even when I don’t open my mouth I think they can tell I’m a Yankee. I’m new here, and I want people to like me. Oh well.
Even though I have been in this position before, this is a big one. And whatever follows will be big. I don't know what it is, and accepting the "not knowing" is key.
Sometimes it seems that I won't take the big steps unless my ass is kicked. The lesson is: move before you get pushed; take a running start and jump naked from the tower window before the lord of the manor flings you from the parapet. It's time to let go; it will be okay.
By the way, I plan to wring the last drop out of the Via Negativa before the season changes on the Winter's Solstice, even if some people think I'm morose.
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