The Illusion of Separation
Written on February 15, 2017.
I was just sitting under a grove of cedars, in the middle of 3 huge stones, one of my power places. A place where I can feel magic, where I can smell the blood from moon lodges held there, where I can hear the flint being knapped and the voices of the hunters talking, a place that feels ancient, like I’m not the only one who recognized it as a place to take rest and Listen.
I prepared for a ceremony by lighting sage but before I could even begin to think about my intention for the journey, my mind was blank, a clear pool rippling in the wind. I received a realization that every action I take, everything I am doing, is an act of self love. How could in not be? Even the times when it feels like all I'm doing is making the wrong decisions, there is a silent truth that every decision is simply taking me a step closer to Home, to my truthful, authentic self. Because you see, there is no separation from what I'm doing now and where I want to be. I only think that there’s a difference; that there’s some distant land I'm trying to get to, some faraway shore that I'm wanting to reach. The place where I am now just doesn’t feel quite right, some of the pieces aren’t in place yet and if only this thing or that other thing would happen, then life would be good, I would be happy, I would be successful. But where ever I am now, is exactly the right place. What if I am happy now? What if I am successful? What if I do really love myself? What if the path that I walk now doesn’t need to be fixed or healed or mended? What if it simply needs to be acknowledged and loved and carefully tended to?
As my ceremony came to a close, something in the tree to my left caught my eye. I looked up and saw a large, knotted snakeskin dangling from a branch. I slowly got to my feet and walked over, my mind trying to grasp what my eyes were seeing. It may not seem like much, but these signs, these gifts, these treasures from the land, from Spirit, are so very meaningful to me. I softly whispered a ’thank you' to the tree as I untangled the skin from her grasp. I sat down with the snakeskin in my hands, marveling at this tangible manifestation of the all-too familiar state of shedding that I so often encounter on my path.
My newest song says “My skin is stretching tightly over my old self. But I am letting go. It feels so much better to shed.” When we shed our old ideas about life and about ourselves, when we allow ourselves to die to the old, we make room for the new. We grow into ourselves and continuously allow the cycles of death and rebirth to take place within us, recognizing when it’s time for a new skin.