The Archaeology of Ourselves

Written on May 10, 2017. 

Our inward spiritual journey is the archeology of ourselves and like any skilled archeologist, we must be very careful, slow, and delicate in extracting our own pain and facilitating our healing. Someone walking in a field doesn’t stumble upon ancient remains and just take a jackhammer and start digging in. They take stock of the site, concluding that extraction is either going to be a safe and harmless process or that the environment just isn’t reciprocle to any digging at the present moment, without damage to the remains. And that security and knowledge about our inner landscapes is what we deserve as well. 


Lately I have been feeling a dull ache, a pain somewhere deep inside that I can’t quite pinpoint. I hear the echo of where it originated from, but I can’t grasp any specific memories around it. I felt a strong feeling surface the other night, but what was rising up felt too big, too much for me to hold at that moment, so I asked for the healing to happen “behind the scenes” and I lie down and let my body tremble and quake, download and cleanse. Today I decided that, once and for all, I was ready to face it, whatever “it” is; I was ready to face the pain, the memory, the wound that is throbbing and asking to be examined and cleansed. I let the smoke of Palo Santo bathe me while I asked for the clarity to see. I used the mimosa plant as my ally and tool and I lay down to “let the healing begin”. I closed my eyes and felt my 3rd eye throbbing and I was trying hard to make sense of the visions I was seeing. After a while, i just sat up and glanced at the tree beside me. I call him my brother tree. I immediately got a message saying “You’re trying too hard. This wound will heal when it’s good and ready and no sooner. If you try too hard to extract it, you could cause damage, so just trust that it will fully surface when its time for it to.” I immediately began weeping at the truth and compassion in the message I’d received.

As much as I like to take part in my own healing and growing, it is like an adult tooth pushing out a baby tooth: no amount of pleading and swearing that I'm ready for the pain will make the baby tooth fall out any sooner.

I must rest in the knowing that I am growing and healing at the pace that is appropriate and healthy for me, even though it may not match the rate that I would like. My job is to remain patient, trusting, and (most of all) kind to myself.