Sometimes I wonder how I am going to make it through the day. I awake from a disturbing dream, one from the depths of lovelessness and I am afraid, feeling distorted and alone. What do I do with this energy? I ask for guidance, tap into Mia’s and Judy’s recordings to help clear. Despite that, the negative feelings continue. I also breathe deep as Dr Sue Morter shows to clear, claim emotions and become the master of self, but how do I step into the negative when I want no part of the negative story?
If I were to give this loveless place a voice, what would the lovelessness say to me? “I need you, I love you, accept me to be the love that I am.” Because of my rejection, a part of my body has become very contracted, emanating an energy of hate, loneliness, fear, abandonment, depression, negative self image, victimization and judgment. What would that look like to open into loveless territory and be brave to embrace something that feels unembraceable? Maybe to lighten the load, I could open up the moon roof to the sun, plant some grass, nurture the green with some water where flowers bloom. This story I can handle.
I understand that lovelessness is a teacher to love deeply. But I am afraid to love deeply when I have to step into the loveless story to activate love awake. The story seems to disperse my energy into a bubble of fear. But if I drop the story, then maybe my energy can come together where fear becomes the power, the concentrated breath of focus. I suppose dropping the story is like taking control of the mind, the drama and allowing the body to feel, emanate into a healing embrace. Maybe from this practice, we all could become the master of shadowy emotions, claiming all that love offers.
Many of us are experiencing deep shadows purging from our bodies. I have collected a magnitude of negatives that have stuck to me only to regurgitate them from my stomach, throat, and hips in reclamation to what is innocent. I wonder, could humanity do this as well, reclaim innocence through shadow work? With that being said, it’s not justice I want, it’s love.
The shadows are like unloved items stacked outside of the house, ready for trash pickup or an abandoned car left by the curb because the harsh voice made it sound unworthy. I am healing shadows of brutality from the past in a triad of taking from my innocence. They reject me; I reject you and I reject myself. Yet, I have no desire for the ego to fight for its territory. All I want to do is return to my true essence by loving all three.
My shadow work also has me contemplating humanity’s past trauma, shadowed forever in dissonance, which can only create more shadows. Yet, what gets overlooked is that we have hidden consonance with each other. As much as we push each other away, we may be more alike in our separation. Maybe it is resonating with the consonance that the root of shadow is the experiences of loveless energy. When we can acknowledge that loveless energy has strongly affected everyone’s innocence, we can let down our guard to receive our innocent expression instead of categorizing experiences to pull us apart. Maybe it is at the root of our shadows that we can heal deeply with compassion instead of judging each other into the shadows.
The undervalued items outside of the house just want to belong. A neglected neighborhood just wants to be nurtured and loved. The soil of the Earth needs tender loving care to grow nutritional food for us all. So, instead of running from our shadows and claiming justice served. We need to love into and embrace our shadows, embrace each other’s shadows, and embrace humanity’s shadows. Maybe by facing our shadows together, claiming we will push no more into shadowing our existence, we can clean up our mess and co-create an innocent, loving community of support.
I whispered into his open mouth, but the words turned before they arrived at his tongue and there I remained as if I spoke nothing at all.
So my naked shoulders tilted back as my arms turned my hands in proposals, seeking to communicate with his stubbly neck, and then the tweed jacket which fit him perfectly, but did not fit so exquisitely anywhere else.
Gently my eyes flew upwards, noticing his deep brown were dancing with my breath and then my hair for the violin occupied his ears.