A Healing Journey Question: Will I Ever Finish My Healing?
Yo, are you on a healing journey? Man, I was on one. The thick sticky jelly kind. The body, the mind, the soul, & the the spirit. And it got to feel so long that I thought I may just be on it for the rest of this life. And, you know what, I reached an awareness where I my heart accepted that, became c ool with it. Non-judgmental. It was teacher & I was learning lesson after lesson. Talk about a soul deep education.
Even when I received a diagnosis and even when I completed treatment, I truly had no idea how long it would take to heal from the whole experience. Backstory: I was undiagnosed for 7 years, the last 3 of those being very intense + a diagnosis & treatment lasting 2 years for black mold poisoning ( a systemic fungal infection in my stomach & brain).
I didn't put a time limit on the healing. I mean how could I when I didn't know what "I had". That was 1 of the gifts of un-diagnosis for any of you struggling with a mystery illness. I learned to just give the unknown space and breath. To meet it where it was at...in all the low low's and & highs. My pitch black experience was sort of this flower I tended to unconditionally, innately & let it grow on it's own Divine time. I couldn't see any of the tangible results. I couldn't measure them. But I trusted myself, my inner-voice & worked on invisible inner-work stuff like self-acceptance, unconditional love, self-empowerment & embracing the darkness. I was with myself and God. I did the work I was asked to do. And it was heavy, and then the work turned light.
Gift: Whatever it is, I see with vision of Love. That's what happens when your "blind", "left in the dark", you develop unconditional vision of love. You pour love into the soil without any expectation of a sprout. You keep on pouring. It becomes your purpose like if you were a monk and your job was to clean the floor.
When we feel like things start letting up, getting easier, or find ourselves back into some sort of normal human life, we may begin to ask some questions around a possible completion to our healing.
Am I getting close to some point where I could reach some sort of finishing finite point? If this is a potential, then how will I know when I'm done? Again, I came to the conclusion the answer didn't really matter and just observed it as a curious passing thought.
Then, I went to the Yucatàn region in Mexico. I spent much time hopping cenotes or fresh water sunken holes, with a lot of 'em being in underground caves. For those of you that don't know, mold grows in damp dark spaces with little light and lots of wet moisture. For the longest time I even had an aversion/fear in parking my car in underground parking lots. Dark caves....ya, in some sense, I imagine that was my worst subconscious nightmare. Not really realizing it at the time, I was conquering my deepest fear.
While I was cenote swimming/cave hopping in Mexico, I had no idea consciously the magnitude of meaning this was having/going to come full blown into my conscious awareness. The day I was on the bus to the airport, when I was officially leaving, a poem rushed through me and wrote itself. At the end, I read it once through & then the pen wrote "a resolution from black mold poisoning". I thought wow, just like that, I am healed. I experienced some sort of unexpected completion. I am grateful. And still a bit bewildered. A pleasant sweet surprise.
Here is the poem. Written on July 5th, 2018.
Feed Me with Blackness
I went for the Sun.
What I found was light in the cave.
I went for the boundless ocean.
What I found was freedom in the cave.
Freedom in darkness, freedom in the unknown.
I found water in the cave.
The cave was never a trap. Never a wall.
It was love; it was protection.
Like being in the womb--deep peaceful water. A serene indigo hue.
The blackness is gentle. It is for rest. We let go & we are cradled.
We try to control it. Understand it, this absence, with our thinking heads.
Oh sweet soul. We are left confused, disconnected. All this whisper wishes for us is to receive its gift too. Just like we receive the Sun's gift.
I remembered again. Actually, I could breathe in the blackness. I still had air. I remembered the precious gift I was given. A sidekick for my heart.
My lungs.
We humans are always provided for. We always have inner provisions to stir & awaken, our golden lace lay slumber. The wisdom in our bellies patiently waiting, always with us. Always ready for us.
Like a frog, my skin is porous, open & vulnerable. I am one with the world of sound, smell, & color.
I need no eyes, for I see the Light.
The void is where I am born anew. Moment to moment. The space is refreshment. A chance to float & integrate.
My cave, the protection, what sometimes felt like separation.
What many call isolation in man's world.
Well, it is the other part of Love.
It's the negative space. Moment to moment.
It is Love.
All of us swimming together in a cave of blackness.
Self-explosion moment to moment: expression, release, & then synergy.
Up & down. Good and bad. All ways.
All One.
I am grateful for our walls, our protection. They are not separation;
they are an invitation for more Love. We are silly.
We forget. We remember. And so the tide goes.
In & out.
Eternal.
We rest in gaps. We nurture in the gaps.
We remember how to breathe again.
We restore flow. We are given so much just for simply floating
on our backs like otters in a deep a peaceful cave.
We all have this inner otter within us.
When we feel alone, don't understand, or can't seem to trust.
Remember, the blackness is our friend too.
Letting go & floating for a moment is safe sweet one.
It's how we recharge our heart & creative God sparkling juices.
It's from where we birth ourselves into existence.
It is like the Sun. Blackness.
It is deeply nourishing.
Feed me with blackness.
For it goes deep into my gut, deep into my brain.
Purifying me with love. A deep ocean of love & compassion. Swimming
through my bloodstream, my karmic timeline currents.
Feed me with blackness.
From this springboard of Life, I emerge.
with Imagination.
Feed me with Blackness.
