How transpersonal practice and awareness helped thread a fine needle for an unlikely miracle.

I am now underway with an unexpected, blessed and miraculous new direction, like a bird suddenly wing-stretched in a powerful current. Spirit-willing, something my heart has always dreamed into, has happened, and at a time when I emptied out the barrel of any hope or energy left for it. The time came to let go, and offer the full willingness to do so through ceremony, through the actions of giving away the objects connected to this dream, and by opening myself to the wow-fullness and immense yay-gratitude of the nothing-missing-ness of my life. I poured out the last drop at the bottom of barrel and released the last drop from my eyes. I turned towards another horizon. Fully.

How the transpersonal transforms.
Now, I have yet to crack all the codes of manifestation as I type from my rental home dreaming of acreage for family, tribe, and soul-based nature work, but something in this experience here seemed to be worth sharing with you.

I preface my thoughts with the suspicion that at a soul level, I doubt there really is any guarantee that the soul-Self will always wield up what our heart sorely desires and perhaps less so to what our ego has in mind.

And I don’t know, after years of vision questing and intention-setting at the start of every year, that even with all the resulting evidence of magic and ‘wins,’ that I could ever subscribe to a formulaic method for manifestation.

But certainly some things help.

And if I can take any active credit at all, I would like to offer you my encouragement that living an honesty intimacy with one’s soul, with the way it talks to us through the body, and with a commitment to transpersonal consciousness has had a lot to do with it.

It takes courage to be vulnerable to – and married to – life as it is. Surrendering to it, letting the little self die every day and see what it doesn’t want to see… So we can look afresh at what is here, and thus allow the miracles. We can discover and participate with the myth that is living through us, more than the story we want to tell ourselves that soothes the ego.

Case in point, just before this miracle occurred, I was teaching, “Ritual, Myth, and Healing” at an IKON campus, yet with an unfortunate full case of pneumonia that was disruptive to my communication (cough cough cough) and downright embarrassing as a living example of what it is to be glaringly symptomatic of unresolved grief.  Here I was with the job of bringing students on an experiential and academic journey towards the profound power of myth and ritual to bring healing and wholeness. And, ahem, here I was, a picture of not using that technology very successfully.

So, I went back to my hotel, and coughed from the place that only the soul can cough from. Deep, wrenching, real. “What is your story?” I asked of my lungs, and let them speak back through gasps of fear, of sorrow, of a pit so deep there was no faith left to turn to.  Expulsions of tears, phlegm, and hopes. Sorrow squeezed out of my body with each contraction, primal movement and sound as I got behind it like a fighter in the ring who is fully IN till it’s done.

The myth of my life appeared to me as having been like a ship on course, revealed through soul-images. And then more images the deeper I went into the bottom of the lungs….the myth of shipwreck, sunken long ago, and I was just seeing it now. I was squaring up to the update of my life, the version I hadn’t wanted to see…That there was no ship now, now captain taking me anywhere, no course held together by a sense of belonging and direction towards a place my heart held dear.

That ship had wrecked. And I saw that whilst a ghost of me was insisting on a new ship, I had actually long ago swum to shore.

Then came the peace. Deep acceptance. Stillness. And a look around at this place.

Softly, the air glided through my lungs. No more coughs.

And, the shore I was on, as it turns out, was gentle. Willing to see it for what it was, well, it was…Beautiful. Restful. Warm. Playful. Fertile. Free. So much to love about it.

My personal myth of ships dissolved into the shores of a beautiful island of ‘real.’

And with that, what I thought I was on course for and dreamed of…

Happened.

May you discover the language of your soul through body and through myth, as a practice that can serve your heart.

I truly believe that living from a transpersonal, soul-centred orientation can help regenerate a deeper sense trust in an intelligence at play in our lives, felt connectedness within ourselves and the web of life, a stronger base of safety and security than what the ego or personality layers of self are capable of, and to grace us with the experience of wholeness within a fragmented world.

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