Sacred Spiritual Growth

Decay and Rot: The Spiritual Life Cycle

“…Dreaming is nature naturing through us. Just as a tree bears fruit or a plant expresses itself in flowers, dreams are fruiting from us.” Toko-Pa Turner, Belonging: Remembering Ourselves Home, pg. 18

I’ve dipped my toes into paying more attention to my dreams and trying to understand what they represent for me. Buildings in the form of large complexes, giant Victorian houses, and opulent developments have pervaded my dreams for years. Most of them, though, are not in pristine condition. Instead, the walls are peeling, the roof is cracked open and the moldy floor creaks loudly. The destructive force is nearly always time and water; the structures have sat abandoned and flooded.

After dealing with actual water intrusion years ago, I took the dreams to be a near-flashback of those events. However, the persistence of the theme has caused me to take a deeper look at it. My therapist shared with me that water represents emotions. I’ve read elsewhere that buildings can represent the body or one’s inner life. It may be representative of my fear that my feelings roil me inwardly and threaten to bring things crashing down.

Rather than fixating on a conceptualization of my dream as symbolic of inner demons or self-neglect of my corporal state, I find myself opening instead to a desire to accept the decrepit state of the houses of my mind as a potentially necessary, vital aspect of life on a physical, emotional and spiritual plane. My early fundamentalist training would have rebelled at any mention that something which was not pure, clean and sturdy could be good, so that makes the examination more desirable to me as an act of defiance.

In current American society, we wield destruction as a battle axe. Want to construct a new building? Tear up the earth, hammer in dead trees, slap on some plastic and you’re done. There is little room for decay in this model as there is a pervasive focus on the new, best, fastest and strongest as the goal. My introduction to permaculture has lent me another model of planning, one which has at least elements of the slow and gentle.

These threads of dream and design have woven themselves together in my mind to create a tapestry of a spiritual life cycle. It holds a focus on ecology in that it allows for dissolution—things falling apart and losing integrity—as a key component. Our current cultural life cycle diagram is simply an arrow pointing straight up; we are pressed with the need to maintain the vigor, looks and future-promise mindedness of youth for our entire lives. We can always try harder. We can always look better. Things will always improve; negativity has no place in a mature spiritual life. These statements are false. One of the greatest takeaways I had from Toko-pa’s book is that I finally understand “feminine energy;” the perspective she offered is reconfiguring everything I thought would save me. Instead of striving, there are times where we can open. Instead of force, there are times where we can yield. Instead of progress, perhaps there is room for degeneration as a path to renewal.

The frayed, soiled and ripped edge of the spiritual life cycle fabric my Inner Being’s woven, when closely examined, appears as follows:

  • Sometimes it is okay to cease effort and to instead receive, open and listen for Source. We can rest, physically, emotionally and spiritually, without any expectation of the next step or where we are headed, in the bosom of Goddess.
  • There are times when things are going to completely fall apart. When resting isn’t enough because the water we drink springs right back out of us. Grief is a well into which we pour and from which we long to escape. If we instead allow ourselves to be there, and to be witnessed there, what initially rises to us tinged in sulfurous odors from which we recoil may eventually become a healing aroma.
  • Nature takes back what is Her’s through rot, mold and the curling of green after fall’s last warmth. She takes back to renew and reuse. We can become so concerned with maintaining our façade in clean lines and polished surfaces, refusing to acknowledge that something stinks in us. If we finally notice it, we snap into action and desire to cut it out at its root. The tree, though, when it sustains a wound, does not immediately start carving itself apart. Instead, it calluses off the infection, leaving the bugs and the water and the sun to soften and loosen the contagion from its core. What if we took the same approach to our “sins” by acting in acceptance of our humanity, our flaws, and our eventual collapse as a being? Perhaps we could respond by tenderly acknowledging where we lack, compassionately setting inner boundaries and then waiting in expectation for the ways in which life is going slowly tear from us whatever nails we think necessary to hold together the covering of our innermost needs in order to enlighten and fade the shadows we know we have.
  • We die. I came across a book titled “How Not to Die” and contemplated purchasing it until I realized the basic premise was flawed. We meet our end, at least physically. All our effort and determination to prevent it from happening are useless. I so deeply and desperately want, when that moment arrives, to say “welcome.” Because what else is there to say? If all the energy we’ve put into perfecting ourselves culminates in us ending, why not conserve some of it for facing the task of aging and diminishing? If we live a full life, we almost always stand to lose our independence, our vocation, possibly our wits and must grapple with the recognition of the unfairness of life. Some trees land as seeds in the sun near a river; they want for nothing. Others fall in the shade or dry spots and half-starve their whole lives. Even if our early life is filled with resources, eventually we decay and then we die. What a challenge to our bravery, to stop resisting what will be or is being taken from us with the passage of time, to stop viewing it as a theft or an obstacle we can overcome with bargaining and to instead hold open the door for it, noticing perhaps that the pallor of its shadow leaves us wiser and bolder.
  • What is spiritual decline and death? I assume we must face it, probably multiple times our lives. How can we allow for Goddess/Deity to work it out in us without striving for order before its time? I suspect that often, by the moment we notice what is happening, the roots of it are already interwoven through everything we hold onto and hold up as “the best way;” we set ourselves up for a painful displacement when we believe our current identities are perennial.
  • Spiritual decline can be gradual or fast, partial or total but is always a movement towards disorder and entropy. What once seemed righted and straight is now sloping and cracked. The luster has worn off; our practices show signs of use. We are no longer comforted by the beliefs and rituals that were once soothing. I’ve experienced this at least once on a significant level in my life when I abdicated my previous religion. What I’ve concluded is that my prior devotion was real and deep and that the unmaking of it was a necessity. We needn’t reinvent ourselves at a whim; life will let us know when it is time to shuffle the deck. Courage to me is the willingness to accept that we can outgrow the paradigm under which we’ve ordered ourselves and the tenacity to then step out into the unknown, untethered and uncertain as to which way is up.

If you’ve followed my blog for any length of time, you’ve seen that the majority of the images I use are nature photographs I’ve taken. The long winter has been a struggle for me as I found myself judging possible photos as “ugly” because they were pictures of dead or dying vegetation. I believe that these plants are unattractive to us, and, in contrast, that full blooms of flowers can lead us to weep because of the evolutionary importance of living floras to sustain us. After contemplating the nature of the low point on the spiritual life cycle, I want to advance beyond this biological bias to hone in on at least a type of loveliness in bent, brown stalks. From where else does new life arise but from the crumble of the formerly green?

Returning to my dreams, I am also struck by the fact that the buildings I create are being retaken not by inert and inorganic machinations but through a destruction spread by natural forces. The edifices of my life that I’ve so extravagantly decorated, are, despite their complexity, vulnerable. But what seeks to invade them is not a conquering force, instead, it comes for its own. We are natural beings and, to me, Nature is a spiritual entity. The tar, plastic and webbing of “information” we’ve constructed, as well as the facades of our bodies and spirits in perpetual youth that we’ve designed, form the infection. We can either allow Her to decay us as we need to be decayed, or we can continue to build what we see as impenetrable barricades—how not to die—all the while dying and dying again to future growth.

Inspiration Fanatic

Five Favorite Goddess Spirituality-Themed Tarot and Oracle Cards

For today’s #InspirationFanatic Friday, I decided to review five of my favorite sets of guidance cards (in no particular order) that I find to be relevant to Goddess spirituality. I chose to cover this topic in regards to inspiration as the artwork in particular in these decks is very meaningful and fuels my creativity. Not only do these cards feel affirming to me from a Goddess spirituality perspective, I also find the cards themselves and the guidebooks with which they come to be supportive to me as a trauma survivor. Sometimes the messages are difficult to hear, but I do not find myself triggered by them on a regular basis. The impact they have on me feels at its most intense like a gentle nudge instead of a shove or a harsh word. This reaction could of course vary from person to person.

I am not a professional tarot reader nor do I claim to have particular skill or insight into interpreting cards. For me, the use of such cards is primarily as a means of inner work, not as a way to divine the future. I tend to ask specific questions of Goddess before I pull cards and often journal about my interpretations.

My list is limited to the cards I’ve personally purchased, so I am very eager to hear your recommendations for additional resources. I do not have an affiliate relationship with any of the creators, so my insights are not unduly influenced. I’ve also included a list at the end of my post of cards I hope to soon add to my collection.

  • Womenrunes: The runes on these cards were originally created by Shekhinah Mountainwater and revived by Molly Remer. They are easy to draw and can be combined to provide personalized messages. I’ve inscribed an entire set of them on river stone and a few on my arm! The guidebook is poetic in nature, leaving a lot of room for intuitive interpretation.
  • Soulful Woman Guidance Cards: This deck speaks to me on a regular basis and is one of my “go-to” choices. Part of the reason is that I sometimes dislike having to thumb through a small guidebook in order to figure out what each card means. With this deck, I am able to gain insight quickly as there is both a theme and an affirmation printed directly on the card. The artwork feels accessible and I find the insight I gain from using this deck to be motivational.
  • Sacred Rebels Oracle: These oracle cards contain some of my favorite artwork. The creators of the deck included art from women from across the globe. Each time I draw a card anew, I realize there was something in the image I missed the first time through. The guidebook has plenty of description of how to grow from the meaning of the card without being too prescriptive. I do notice a thread of the “law of attraction” peeking through at moments, of which I am not a fan, but the overall message is positive and uplifting.
  • The Good Tarot: The imagery of this deck is ethereal and soft to me. There are aspects of traditional tarot, but the focus is more on affirming where a person is in the present day instead of forecasting future developments. Additionally, the four elements are represented which I find helps me connect to the meaning of the cards more fully than cups, swords, etc. The guidebook is pretty sparse with a summary paragraph or a few sentences for each card; this is my personal preference as I like to intuit meaning rather than feeling like I’m being restricted by an overly descriptive narration.
  • The Goddess Oracle: I find this deck to be particularly useful when I’m feeling in need of the presence of Goddess in my life. The guidebook to each card invites the reader on an inner journey in which the person communes with the Goddess. I found the writing to be a bit formulaic in its approach here and would have liked a bit more background on the historic and cultural significance of each Goddess. The artwork is beautiful and inviting.

On my wish-list:

  • Celtic Goddess Oracle Cards: I am a huge fan of Judith Shaw’s artwork and writing. There is an elegance and warmth that exudes from her paintings, and in the descriptions she’s shared of her artwork, I can see the thought and research that has gone into her creations. I can’t wait to purchase this 35-card deck!
  • Infuse Your Life with Joy and Delight Inspirational Card Deck: I’ve been following Illisa Millermoon on Instagram for a while, and I find her joy to be contagious! She shares about her daily life, including her Sparkle Quests, and her creative process, and I can see the energy that’s been poured into this 52-card deck (as well as all the beautiful colors!). Can’t wait to have it for myself.

What are your favorite oracle or tarot cards, and why do you prefer them? To what extent do you include decks that “challenge” you in your work? How do you conceptualize your use of the cards? Is it a conversation with Source, divination of the future, inner work, or another process? Do you see the cards themselves as a spiritual entity and/or a conduit through which you can act in relationship with Deity?

Magic & Phrase

Generosity

Be generosity to the weeds embedded in the edge of my heart.

Nurturance and tenderness to their prickly stalks and tiny flowers.

 

Not all memories held within are solid or kind.

 

Unicorn pastels roses lace teacups encircled neatly in the clearing.

Now.

Sharp thorns of musty basement arm shoved down choking shame blindness from fear poke through.

 

Garden gate swings inward.

Here ruins and pretense in sculpted and cultivated ornamental lawns lie.

 

Entrust me my wildness and tangled thickets.

Remain the weak, the poisonous and the brambles of pain.

Spare also the daisies.

 

Devour in earth time all of me.

Now.

No more vines plucking out. No more saving the pretty from the dirty.

 

Heartside welcomes the full shape of my past spiky and curved.

Showers of calm and breezes of affection settle in.

 

Weeds and flowers together run riot in the growth of my remembrances and I belong to all of it.

Embodied Heart

Self-Nurturance as an Antidote to Shame

I was poisoned early and often with shameful encounters through the abuse I suffered as a child. The most devastating experience, the one that completely shattered my sense of self as an individual, was when both of my parents simultaneously sexually abused me. To the best of my recollection, this type of traumatic event involving both of them as active participants only happened one time, but it was enough to set in motion a coping strategy that has brought ruin to many of my personal relationships. If any aspect of the experience is sufficiently recreated, the sole solution to the internal distress I feel is to end the relationship immediately. For today’s #EmbodiedHeart post, I will reflect on how this experience affected me as well as how caring for myself can potentially help to heal me.

The involvement of my mother in this event feels almost like a twisted form of ceremony, one in which her necessity to see me as a physical extension of her being met its completion. I believe that at least some part of her thought she fully and totally “owned” me as a result of her actions. I was branded psychically with the message “you’re mine and you exist only when and how I see fit for you to do so.” It has taken every ounce of spiritual and mental strength I have to resist the shame and guilt that her treatment of me instilled in me whenever I take autonomous action or stand up for myself.

Shame separates me from others. It leads me directly to thoughts of suicide, whispering in my ear that I don’t deserve to live and that the only way to make bad things not happen to me is to end it all. Shame silences me, my tongue paralyzed by visions of horror and the underlying script of “it’s your fault this happened” and “this didn’t happen and it’s your fault for thinking it did.” Shame traps me in a seemingly never-ending cycle of enactment of the same scenes, unconsciously and desperately searching for a solution to the impossible paradoxes of the memory.

Knowing that I am my own person—that no one owns me—feels like a starting place in putting the memory where it belongs, which is in the past as a lived experience, rather than in the present as a maze from which there is no exit. I’m left, though, if all I have is myself, with a feeling of broken and jagged pieces which are uncoordinated towards life experiences that are not threatening or dangerous. I have almost no idea how to react to sweet libations of warmth, tenderness, care and affection. In those moments, I’m forever awaiting the bitter draught at the bottom of the glass, certain that the story of what happened to me is doomed to repeat itself.

To move beyond existing, I know I need to nurture myself. I need to give myself refreshment and comfort, holding space for the parts of me who want to resist it as well as the parts of me who are too scared to hope it could exist. The venom of the memory courses through me at times because I give it power and strength through acts of self-neglect or self-abuse. Only through consistent and careful attention towards my own needs can I provide an environment where every trace of the residue of undeserved shame can be drawn out and burned in the fire of my righteous anger or drown in the well of my necessary grief.

To this end, I am committing myself to three concrete actions of self-nurturance:

  • Checking in with myself on a daily basis to see what parts of me may need as well as to work to resolve any internal conflicts.
  • Keeping a regular record of things for which I am grateful.
  • Developing a mantra of self-nurturance, creating a visual expression of the mantra (a painting, drawing, etc.) and displaying it in order to remind myself of it.

What effects does the experience of shame have on your life? To what extent does the practice of self-nurturance assist you in caring for parts of you that hold shame? What concrete actions can you take to engage in self-nurturance?

Embodied Heart, Surviving & Thriving

The Walking Wounded: Struggles in Recovery from CSA

Today’s #EmbodiedHeart post feels particularly vulnerable as I take a hard look at my potential for recovery and functioning as a childhood sexual abuse survivor and as a person with multiple chronic physical and mental health conditions. The insight I’ve gained from this personal reflection has allowed some of the internal distress and discomfort that’s become particularly acute for me the past six months to make more more sense to me. My insight has not yet led to a particularly workable solution, so I am hoping to learn about how my readers have handled similar situations. I will say that ideas like “look on the bright side” or “remember others have it worse,” although not entirely without merit, are typically experienced as invalidating rather than as useful in most situations like mine.

I’ve unfortunately set myself up in a situation where I need to maintain a high level of performance across a variety of domains in order to stay on top of my finances and to preserve my living situation. My job is high stress and demanding. I have sufficient funds coming in but face an uphill battle to get my student loans paid off. I have to stay in my job at least a few more years in order to have the possibility of my loans being forgiven realized. As a homeowner, I am solely responsible for the upkeep and repair of my house. Without my family in my life, maintaining close ties to friends and acquaintances takes on a heightened sense of importance. My health is assisted by the fact that I stay active and eat a decent diet, but both of these behaviors require constant effort and monitoring. In short, I feel overwhelmed by trying to keep up with the demands of my life, while simultaneously becoming increasingly aware of the toll it is taking on my mind and body. I know that the situation in which I am in is largely my own doing, but that sense of “choice” doesn’t mean much when I can’t see a quick way out to a lower stress environment.

Despite the external and internal pressures under which I find myself operating, I’ve kept on keeping on for years. Recently, though, I’ve heard a loud “no more” from inside. Parts of me feel as though they are holding on to dozens of tangled strings, attempting to contain my mental health symptoms and body sensations. They are threatening to let loose of all of them at once, which I can only imagine would mean a severe deterioration in my functioning. I had a few years of significant impairment in my 20’s. At that time, my internal system believed I was in a safe enough environment to let go and then found out it wasn’t. Now, though, the issue is less motivated by hope and more by exhaustion and frustration.

I had a breakdown in therapy last year in which I shared with my therapist that I perceive myself as having full-blown PTSD and other disorders, but the pressure I feel to maintain my functioning is so strong that I can’t even allow myself to experience the acting out of the symptoms. Instead, I think I dissociate further and tuck away any loose articles that might tumble out of the overcoat of “I’m good, I’ve got this” in which I blanket myself. Something always gives, though, when we dissociate, and the hollowness and joyless outlook with which I am currently struggling is one such outcome.

There are steps such as a slightly reduced workload and more vacation time on which I’ve embarked to attempt to rectify the situation. My fear is that I won’t be able to fully placate the parts of myself who are completely fed up by my inattention to my inner needs and who almost seem to desire for me to “lose it” so that everyone else will witness the folly of my attempt to appear to have it together. I keep reminding myself that, as a general rule, decompensating to the point of needing intervention is very likely to be retraumatizing and brutal, not the posh vacation with room service which pieces of my mind seem to believe it to be.

My internal imagery for my experience one of running a race far beyond what my body and mind can take, with my single-minded focus on the finish line obscuring from me the fact that my shoes are torn beyond repair and my skin is crusted with salty dehydration. Now that I see the state in which I am, I know I need to recalibrate my intention and take some rest periods, but I also realize I have to keep moving forward, albeit at a slower pace. There is no reasonable option in which letting myself sink into the sandy landscape surrounding the track will do anything for me other than cause me to wither to a helpless shell of myself in the blazing sun. There is no one coming to save me, just as no one came to save me a child in an abusive home. Now, though, I believe I can look to my fellow travelers for at least encouragement as I plod along.

What have you done in situations where you felt you were in over your head? What resources have you leveraged to reduce your burden? How have you found the energy to keep going?