Autumnal Ego Death. Letting Out. Presence In.
Autumn is in the air and I am feeling a theme of:
Letting Go = Presence.
The amazing color we are getting this year makes me want to drink up every second of Awe that this change brings. The trees have put on a show for us, a mosaic, a painting. A collaboration of hues that rustle and sing if you listen closely.
Until they let go for the silence of winter.
The Ever important silence, the seed sound of the seventh chakra.
So much of my life has been run by sounds, bright flashing lights, checklists, and shoulds.
“I should be meditating”, “I should listen to something more spiritual before I go to this spiritual class I’m taking”, “I should only do asana if I have time for a whole hour and a half”
Then, I decided that rolling around in weird stretches on the floor to Cool Cat by Queen was the most ~spiritual~ thing I could do with my 20 minutes before I had to leave. Take that shoulds!!
On September 11th, 2024 I decided to take a 40 day fast from social media, youtube and movies.
Letting go.
I have a painting above my bed I titled “Open To Receiving”
Open To Receiving
But, I must be empty enough to receive. By constantly filling my brain with images and videos and information, I’ve been overloading my system with s t u f f. So the real downloads–messages from that tiny voice inside me, the voice that is connected to Something far beyond the phone screen and book pages, doesn’t have the Space to come through.
Space. What a word. We “hold space”, we make space, we look up at outer space. Without space, everythingwedidwouldlooklikeajumbledmessthatmakesnosenseeverythingwouldbechaosandnotthegoodkind.
Space. Silence. Presence. Are these words synonyms?
During my End Of Life Care course I took through UVM this spring, a large focus was on holding space for our clients, whether that be the person dying or the loved ones–we held space by listening. By being Silent. Being Present. How can I listen if the big loud voice in my head is always talking, pontificating, postulating?
Trust me, I don't think everything I say is worthless. And I don't think everything you say is without meaning, or that all the books on my shelves are null because it didn't come from my own sPirItUaL dOwNloAd .
All I’m trying to do is cultivate enough openness to experience my Soul: the Source of the Space itself to come through, more often. I am trying to welcome it in, without tossing a lasso around it and wrangling it so tightly that it turns to dust in my sweaty, desperate hands. And, perhaps inspire you to do the same with my writing.
You see, I’ve also been trying to discover how to share authentically, without virtue signaling or being self righteous. How can I make this blog different from an instagram caption? I don’t think there's actually an answer to that question. Just the journey itself.
With all this being said, I also want to virtue signal a little bit (teehee).
Last week I was gifted some magical mushrooms for my birthday. I had set an intention to have some sort of measurement of ego death (ok ego trying to control the ego by saying I want to lose the ego [insert drooling lifeless eyes]).
It was the first day of my bleed, I went for a walk up the road while the tea started to kick in. I was marveling at all the perfect apples just out of reach. I felt like every car that went by was curious to what I was doing on the side of the street with some leaves in my hand, practically trying to use mind control to get my apple to come down. When I got home, I put on some music and created an altar on the bull skull resting on my hutch.
The music was flowing, and so was my moon blood. I felt the pulse raise my body temperature and piece by piece took off all my clothes, turned off all the lights (except for a color changing party light), put my blood on my face and danced in the mirror.
Image circa 2021? 2022?
Now, for most people, dancing naked with their period blood on their face doesn't really sound like an ego trip. But, coming to peace with my fluids and my body was a hurdle I passed quite some time ago. So, I knew that I was still the one moving me. For some brief moments I felt the pull of spirit moving my body like I was a puppet on a string; but for the most part it was me there. Watching me dance. Appreciating my flesh, my blood, my breath and my reflection. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this. Teenage Soule would never believe that was a regular Tuesday night activity for me.
But it's not what I wanted.
Want.
Enter, again, drooling lifeless eyes as I go on and on in this circle of ego wanting ego to release ego so I have less ego.
After much reflection, I decided I actually have a body that needs to eat and breathe and move and it's totally cool to have that. Listening to Cool Cat felt like more of a surrender than the psychedelic trip was. And I think that's one of the goals of psychedelics, you are creating an opportunity to notice and change your patterns, in everyday waking life, that aren't serving you any longer.
Want more intimate inspirations like this mycelium story, that ignites your inner fire and pulls you closer to a tantric life experience your soul is craving? I am going to dedicate stories like this–stories that are a little more personal, to a paid blog called Intimates. I’ve done so many delicious photoshoots where I bare my soul and my skin, and I want to share some of these images with folks who value the art of moving my body and capturing it on camera. In this blog I’ll also be sharing some poetry and whatever else I feel like doesn't really belong on this blog: which is a little more tightly woven into my massage practice.
This is the only place you'll find a link to Intimates for now, I hope to have you there with me on this journey!
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Exclusive Content for those who appreciate heArt of photography and some of my intimate musing of my mind. Photos, poetry, guided meditations, and more will be available for subscribers. Save $36 by subscribing annually. By entering your card information you affirm that you are at least 18 years or older. (REQUIRED)
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