Over breakfast this morning, I watched this video and wept.
I watched it again several hours later, as I was wrestling with this post. I was trying to decide whether to hold back and water down my account of some recent revelations by confining them to this lifetime… or whether I should go ‘full woo-woo’ and include all the details of the process, as it unfolded for me. As risky as it feels, I decided to drop the self-censorship. So here we go.
A few weeks ago our then-Prime Minister announced Australia would be joining airstrikes against Syria – while also insisting that was no reason to increase our intake of refugees from the country. Standing in an office boardroom, getting ready to facilitate a workshop and reading the news on my phone, I felt the first flow of my period. It felt like my womb had started weeping.
For a moment, I sensed the heart of the earth weeping with me for what we do to each other and to Her. In response, I felt a familiar story begin to rise in me: we are profoundly disconnected from all the feminine forms of the divine. And it’s killing us. All of us, including me.
This is an old story, but not a comforting one. It doesn’t make me feel more love. It doesn’t make me stronger.
So the next day, I investigated the source of the story. Three different versions of me, all from different past lives, showed up to share their collective wisdom. The whore/slave, the priestess and the warrior had quite a lot to say. Here’s some of what I learned from them.
I’m never separate from the feminine. The story simply isn’t true. Even when I feel most separate from Her, She’s here. But my connection doesn’t always feel clear because of the power of layers of stories.
It works like this: there’s an initial story… a ‘seed’. My seed story formed before I was born, a very long time ago, during what I believe was my first experience of being in human form. It was the moment after conception. I was a single cell. In that moment, I incarnated into fear because my mother was a slave who’d been raped.
That was the first moment I experienced myself as separate from the divine. And in the first moment that I recognised myself as a separate being, I felt fear. The mistake: I linked the experience of separation with the experience of fear. I believed they went together. I believed that being in human form meant living in fear.
This was my seed story: human form = separation = fear.
Let me be clear: in theory, I’ve always had the option to choose a different story. My Soul’s wounds are partly created by my perception, because I almost always find a component of story embedded in the trauma. And this relates to the distinction between pain and suffering. Experiences can be intensely painful, but when we run the pain through a filter of perception and perspective – that’s when the story gets created. In the attribution of meaning, we create much of the suffering.
Because one story creates more. Over multiple retellings, imprints get laid down and set in place. It’s a bit like the way keloid scarring forms over a bad burn or the way calcium deposits build up over time. At some point, we can’t see where and how it started. By the time the story has become a karmic imprint, it no longer feels like we have the option to choose a different story.
This all comes from our uniquely human ability to tell stories and believe them. Because this is how humans learn: something happens once and we create a story that says “this is what always happens”. The initial story, when repeated multiple times, becomes true. That’s why storytelling can be a massively creative superpower and it can also be the most destructive force we have – the biggest weapon available to us. Stories can literally bring out the best and the worst in us. (I suspect Rupert Murdoch understands this too well.)
So there is huge power in challenging our stories. In particular, going to the root of the stories – to the one that started it all – can be a personal act of revolution. Finding and rewriting our seed story can literally rewrite our past and our future.
In my case, the root story created the dream of separation: the seed anchored the spell. I believe the spell has been broken now and my task from here is to clean up the fragments as they appear. But it will be easier than before, because the fragments have lost their power to re-form the original story. Because the root story is gone.
I can’t say that after my investigation, I’m living completely without fear. But I certainly feel profoundly different. It’s easier to recognise the old stories as they arise and simply put them aside. It’s happening faster and with less resistance than I experienced before I saw the seed story for what it was: a false belief, not the absolute truth.
And my sense of connection with the Great Mother? The other versions of me were very clear that day: everything they told me is part of my accumulated wisdom and the collective wisdom that I have access to – if I choose to acknowledge it. But the wisdom gets covered over by the stories of separation. Fear is like static for the connection – the more fear there is, the more the connection seems to weaken and disappear. And so the fearful story proves that it’s true.
Those previous incarnations of me had one more piece of advice about how to relate wisely to a world in pain:
As your powers of perception and your ability to empathise deepen, feel the grief… and don’t get caught in the story. Don’t let it become the basis for another imprint. Don’t make new layers. Weep and wail if you have to… and let it pass through you. There is nothing wrong with grief. Much more grief will be required for the healing that needs to take place. Grief is an honest recognition – it’s about seeing clearly. Grief is the natural response to coming out of denial and seeing clearly what we’ve been doing to Her and to ourselves and to each other. Don’t be ashamed of your tears.
And so I watch YouTube videos and weep into my breakfast, without shame. And I publish things on my blog that feel like dangerous truths I’d rather hide. But as I type the words, tension leaves my body. Because it’s harder to keep this inside than to take the risk of sharing.
I’m here to help heal the heart of our world, one story at a time. I can’t heal the world tomorrow. But when I change my story, I can transform my world. It’s my own personal revolution… and you’re invited.
I’m so sorry the revolution failed before.
I’m so sorry you believed all your stories.
I’m so sorry you believed all their stories.