I sat with another person during their Healing Ceremony this morning, and it has left me wide open and grateful.
A person I have known for a number of years reached out to me for ceremonial work, and I was in two minds about it. We had left our friendship strained many months before, and while my heart wanted to jump straight on board and “do what was right”, another part of me was offering frightened warnings about boundaries, and the possibilities of becoming involved again.
In Hamlet is the famous line, to be or not to be, and while I am very loosely applying it here, that conundrum of whether to go forward or stay put was an almost physical struggle within me.
Here is someone reaching out to me, honouring the ceremonial work that I do, and asking me to meet them half way as they prepare for a big healing journey. And I was also thinking on the strain and unhappiness that had developed between us – two strong-willed people with strong ideas and beliefs who had reached a point of loggerheads. And I wondered – did I want to enter back into the possibility of that happening again?
And, with a fair amount of chagrin and honesty, would I also be admitting some kind of acceptance of what happened between us if I chose to dance with this person again? A voice within me advocated that going forward may be tantamount to “giving in.”
But a firmer voice whispered: “How is it giving in to reach out, to hold space for someone in need? What will really happen is that you will need to let go to move forward, and that scares you the most.”
Whether this whispered voice was my Wiser Self, my Goddess Elen, or just my heart, the words sunk in, and I saw it was true. I was scared to move forward from a place – a story – of comfortable discomfort. The story I had told myself about the two of us was a well-told one, the pages brown and aged at the side from all the page turning and dwelling I had done.
Could I let that story of the past, just be? Not make it wrong or right, or even try to forget it: could I just let it become part of the tapestry of my life, and put that book back on the shelf, and choose to not pick it up again?
And as I pondered these things, a stillness settled within me, and a strength arose.
When this kind of stillness comes within me, it is my soul’s way of telling me “this is the thing – follow this.” And as I tentatively planned out what a Healing Ceremony could look like for this person, the stillness settled further, and strength and certainty of self and ability moved within me.
How do you ignore what comes so authentically and confidently into your awareness?
By being aware of this voice; by hearing its Truth; by holding to a personal ethic of genuineness and authenticity – how could I ignore it? And, how could I keep asking for assistance and guidance from my gods if I only ignored it when it was given?
So I made the appointment.
As I drove home this morning, the morning sun shining in the car and the stillness once more within me, all I felt was gratitude. To the person who had reached out to me; to my gods for always offering me what I need; to myself for actually listening.
I felt settled after our ceremony work, but also enlivened deep within me. During the ceremony I had felt the mantle of Priestess settle comfortably over my shoulders, and I had trusted it. I had followed the flow of intuition to speak this here, or offer this there. I had allowed myself to be fully present to this other person, to listen to their words, and leave the book that was our history on that shelf in the back room.
I had given my heart permission to open up and meet them in the sacred space we had created. I let go of all my internal stories and critics and hogwash, and let myself be what I needed to be in that place, at that time, for this person.
And as I drive home, Tina Malia is playing, and the song Way Home comes on. And the words I am hearing, these beautiful words that are being sung, is like listening to Elen talking directly to me:
I pray for love to guide you
On the road you walk upon
I pray for love to life you up
To the place where you belong
And I pray
I pray for you to know
As long as I am in this world
You will never walk alone
There are tears in my eyes, and then upon my cheeks as I let the words spill inside me, and wash away my connection to that old story. I feel Her holding me, smiling at me because all the boundaries that keep Elen, and any other person out, are always boundaries that I’ve placed there myself.
And as the song continues to the end, I feel myself singing the last verse back to Her:
I see you now before me
A light in the trees
I see you now before me
And I believe