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Her tears were fragments of the universe.

Subtly changing form as they touched life in every realm of possibility.

Nuanced ripples through time, they breathed life into the soul who shed them

And honored those longings held deeply inside her heart.

One by one, even stillness bowed to their beauty

Until one day, those tears fulfilled a destiny

She could only imagine.

It harbors its own ecosystem of thought and emotion, readying itself to attack its prey or defend its home.

We all have it, we all own it. We all struggle with it at some point in our lives. It tolerates us as we move through life experiences as much as we tolerate it.

Emerging from ancient wounds, devoid of conscious boundaries, shame reveals its nature when we are most vulnerable. Its unpredictability makes it a formidable adversary. Its familiarity can make it an old friend.

Shame communicates between the underworld and those worlds within us. It negotiates between the bowels of darkness and the portals of light in our souls, undermining one’s authenticity, challenging one’s innate abilities to exist in this world, destroying a natural curiosity of the light as it is so consumed with obtaining power.

It becomes its own story in our minds, our hearts, our psyches. it observes us as we struggle against owning it, releasing it, healing it. It divides us, confuses us, disengages us from many truths and realities. It thrives on our need to survive with it. It knows that we do have choice in the matter, A choice to be imprisoned or free.

Not every island sits under the sun, nor does it require our attention and energy. Our survival does not depend on visiting shame as often as we do.

Sometimes we just need to choose other emotional destinations to visit.

These beings can be ancestral, transient, or attached to a miasm for a number of reasons. I find myself listening with one ear to a client and the other to the spirit world.

One story is told via the living, and sometimes another through the dead. Holding space while thoughts, emotions and memories cross parallel realms and boundaries, sometimes with a power struggle ensuing between those voices I am fiercely listening to. The lines become blurred for the storytellers, and trauma has a life all its own. Even if the stories are different, the traumatic thread is shared between this realm and the other, and negotiating various techniques to support a healthy understanding surrounding the miasm is key to every relationship that we are bonded to in the spirit world. I have found that even when my clients have little memory of their traumatic experience, it is being relayed to me by a spirit who also endured the trauma along with the client. The influence a spirit attachment has on in this world and on our stories can be intense, sometimes confusing our own thoughts and feelings. I have spent many hours holding space while assisting clients in disengaging with the “outside noise”, or those beyond the veil. Trauma is overwhelming. Our relationship to it can also be overwhelming to the point we disassociate. It is in that space we allow ourselves to become portals for the unseen to join us in our wounding, to relive the story in our earthly bodies as we try to reconcile and create a story that will carry us through. As individual trauma becomes collective, many feel the heaviness and the burden of bearing the weight of their own stories while having a nagging feeling that they are not alone in their pain.

What I love is that people are really seeing this on their own. In the last few years, many are truly recognizing that some of their experiences and the ways in which they are holding space for them are not without influence from trauma from their past, their parents past, their grandparents past, and so on.

The one question I always ask clients when working through trauma is “What do you have to gain by keeping company with the trauma?”

Then I ask them the same question about their parents and so on. It is not about judgement. It is about them being honest and real with what keeps them safe in this world while they tell their story.

When a client begins to allow their relationship with their story to become more honest, they begin to take accountability for their vulnerabilities, their strengths and their weaknesses. It actually creates a gentle boundary with the spirit world and lessens the power struggle involved in ancestral memory and lineage. This opening grants permission to those in the spirit world to create their own relationship to the same or similar trauma, thus empowering all involved to perhaps, one day, have a new story to tell, a healed one.

We are the midwives of this earth

Of every living creature, our sacred geometry gives rise to both the feminine and the masculine

We inhabit all worlds, the underworld, the middle world, the upper world

The domain of our inner landscaping belongs to no one but us and our ancestors

Who walked miles to give birth to the sun, the moon and the stars.

Penetrating humanity with mercy

Diminishing darkness with every choice made to rise against it

Our names written in scripture

Our deeds recorded in time

We wander the corridors of the gods

Inhabiting both Mother and Father

In lifetimes past and those to come.

We are you.

Honor us.

Tend to your story, your roots of origin with skin so thick

It needs soothing of every character you ever played.

Tend to your mind, with edges so refined

It has kept you as safe as you needed in times of deep wounding.

It beckons you, from every corner of its universe

From every fractal of its imagination.

It needs respite from the illusions you have mentored.

Tend to your heart, its thinly veiled current of pain haunting you

into depths of unworthiness.

Tend to your God, who awaits you in every creation of your senses,

joining you in respite, one much needed, to give you strength before you rise.

It is only when you are ready, that those ashes will kneel and the rising will be ever so sweet as you

hear your name being called by your ancestors and you voice a new story of creation from this moment forward.

When did transformation become about one person having more light than another?

When did awakening become about denying one’s darkness; only accepting light as the pathway to peace?

When did ego become shameful?

When did embodiment become illusion?

In my over twenty six years of practice, I have witnessed more shame in this race to such evolution.

The separation of light and darkness, the separation of spirit and body, the separation of love and fear.

The separation of health and illness, the separation of knowledge and ignorance.

Oh how the gods must tire of watching us on this merry go round.

Watching us create and recreate shame to become part of the narrative of self acceptance and love.

One day you will tire of this merry go round too.

You will stare shame directly in the face and grant it a leniency with every mercy you have within you.

The separation will stop, first within, and then within the world as you see it.

Yes my friends, you will be free.

There’s this emptiness that coincides with grief.

Its edges become so crisp that when in its midst, one loses a sense of self and understanding of experience.

All that exists is that present moment, hollow yet with such depth of intensity that one feels connected to everything yet connected to nothing.

An emptiness ravaged with emotion and at the same time so still one can feel the precipice of light as well as the darkness.

One can feel the universe in its entirety, both the one within and the one surrounding.

This grief knows no bounds

Yet seems to know us better than we know ourselves.

Once you become acquainted with it, you become more intimately acquainted with God.

From that moment on, you will never be the same again.

There is no easy way out of trauma. I was speaking with one of my clients this week on her narrative, the story she created as part of her traumatic miasm encapsulating

her very existence. I use the word created because she has very little memory of her past and when partial visions flash before her eyes, she creates a narrative to continue to serve an identity that may or may not have been an actuality. She’s not the only one to do this. We all do. We use stories, our version of those stories that happen in our lives, to foster an identity of safety, belonging, nourishment, and life purpose. When I work with multiple family members, I will hear different versions of the same story, as the storyteller forms attachments to those raw pieces of wounding left behind, searching for understanding, binding to people, things, thoughts and emotions that perpetuate some level of survival. Whether that survival is physical, emotional, mental or spiritual doesn’t really matter. How we frame that narrative in our psyches does. The sheer awareness that our identities can be obliterated at any moment we face darkness tends to ignite a terror, a loss of any semblance of self that roots us within and to each other. So we create narrative upon narrative to bind us as deeply into the earth and high into the heavens.

Eventually, we unwind slowly as most narratives begin to change or fade as individual identity becomes less important. There is a connection that happens, a greater connection that allows the trauma to settle into a grace that heals you. Your identity becomes part of the whole, and the trauma has a purpose you hadn’t recognized before. Not just for you, but for the world. The need to worship the trauma and place it as victor on an altar no longer holds interest. The need for the story to make you feel real and authentic in this life is no longer needed.

I love our stories. I love listening to each and every one of them. I respect trauma.

I also love when we become free of those memories and allow them to serve a greater good by igniting forgiveness throughout all of mankind.