love_candles

 

There’s a picture we have of healing as this serene moment of white light and wholeness of body and soul.  It’s completely benign, and the one being healed walks away and life is great.  It’s beautiful.  It’s painless.  It’s….it’s bullshit.

 

Let me take a step back.

 

In February I attended a healing ritual.  We moved and danced and raised energy to communicate with the spirits we’d called into the circle, and it was the strongest energy I’ve ever felt from a healing ritual.  At each altar I was keenly aware of the changes in my movement and what parts of the healing I’d achieved over the last year.  Messages flooded through me.  Then I got to the center, and my insides shifted.  I began to laugh.

When I started rehearsing parts of Good Girl my nervous coping mechanisms not only intensified exponentially, but they laughed in my face.  Quite literally.  When I’m nervous or anxious I smile.  I laugh, I make jokes.  I entertain.  One of the hardest parts of this process for me was learning to stop entertaining when I’m unhappy with a situation.

So here I am, in the middle of a healing ritual, with people around me having their intensely poignant experience, and I’m laughing.  I’m belly laughing.  I’m cackling,  I’m laughing so hard I’m crying.  It’s the first genuine laugh that’s passed through my lips without some other prompting in decades, and this is the moment I feel healed.  This is the moment I feel the entire community around me giving and taking and healing each other.

Then the spirits talk through one of the priestesses running the ritual.  She laughs, and suddenly I am no longer laughing.  I’m at once eager and terrified of what’s about to come out of her mouth, because it’s exactly what I’ve felt written on my soul since December.

Healing, complete healing, is something you have to be ready for.  It’s not some idyllic scene with rainbows and crystals.  Healing hurts, and it’s relative to how deep the wound runs within you that needs to be healed.  It tears at you, ripping away the parts of you that are broken, and you feel every cell of it leave you.  But that’s not all.  Healing isn’t a finite event.  It’s a catalyst for the rest of your life, changing every single part of it, and once you’ve become your whole and unhindered self?  This is the hardest part of healing to deal with.  Once you are whole and unhindered you have no more excuses.  You must live up to your potential.  You must do what needs to be done to keep moving forward.  You must pull yourself together and be a force in this world.

You have no more excuses, and that’s terrifying.

But this is why we heal as community.  This is why we tell our stories.  This is why we are a web of life and light, because otherwise we would not survive what it is to heal.  Otherwise we would be glowing orbs of heavenly light and we would walk back into our lives just as broken as we were before.

 

Aloha.

 

Go now, heal each other.

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