I just found this journal entry from two years ago. It’s beautiful and perfect. And…I’m definitely still learning this lesson.

A caterpillar must feel like it’s dying. Ayrie and I had a monarch caterpillar once and watching it, I certainly thought it was dying. It stopped eating, turned a strange, sickly, dull color and became lethargic.  And then the period of darkness came. It built that cocoon so tightly around it’s body. No where to run. No way to escape the pain of transformation, the shedding of what was, the birth of what was to be.  And then there was subtle movement, a sign that the darkness was about to end, a stirring of the chysallis on the branch. Suddenly the boundaries ripped and something stunning emerged, brilliant black and orange. It takes the butterfly a while to test it’s wings, to understand what’s become, to realize the possibilities.  The wings are tested, but gingerly, almost with awe and respect. And then somehow the butterfly knows that it’s time and it leaves solid footing for the first time, soaring.

I too am meant to soar, to be brilliant, to shine.  For the last week I have felt like I was in that chrysalis. So dark. I used to have a giant hole inside me that was full of pain. But this week the hole felt bigger than me. I was inside it and it was taking more than I had to give. I lost site of myself. Of everything that is beautiful or worth living for.  I prayed to god to let me die. Sometimes I panicked, not able to breathe. The grief and pain had a physical weight, you see, and it was crushing me.  Did you know that? That grief has mass? I didn’t. I supposed it’s like dead weight or a cold sweat.  You can’t understand the physical dimensions until you touch, feel, taste and experience it on your own in the most raw and stark of ways.

And late into the night, or maybe early into the morning, ayrie came, and he showed me two things.  He showed me an image of myself in white.  And then there was a tear (rip) in me.  I was so scared to see that tear that I tried to look away.  But he made me stay with him and from that tear poured Ayrie’s purple light. And it grew so big that I couldn’t see myself anymore. And he said, ‘I am bigger than you. You are standing in my light. Always.’  and i felt extraordinarily comforted and renewed. So I can always touch him, feel him, sense his presence, but he’s here. He expects greatness from me.

He also showed me rings of purple light (his light) and white light (light of the divine spirit) radiating upward and outward. It was beautiful. There was a brilliant white light pulsating qt the top of my head and ayrie was there, leading me to the light. He was telling me that it’s time to have a closer relationship with the divine spirit. It always comes back to trusting in love, trusting in the mystery of the divine spirit.

 

So I’m reminded of my greatness. Reminded that I have great work to do in this world through my writing, my teaching, my intuition, and my ability to help others heal. I am in my chrysalis and I don’t know when I’ll be able to test my wings.