Last night I sat in a circle with 124 other women. The questions were asked. What are you done with? What are you ready to scrub off yourself? What have you processed and cooked and beat to death this year? What are you ready to throw on the compost pile.
I stress the word compost here. All that work I did on whatever I’m now ready to throw off is worth something. Worth a lot. Invaluable in fact. It will nourish the rest of the Earth with its wisdom and lessons. The dried up blood I shed will mix with the earth and become part of the soil.
I closed my eyes in the dark. Placing my hand on my heart, I knew exactly what I was done with. It presented itself, making me sick to my stomach. It didn’t want to leave me though. In my minds’ eye I saw myself kneeling, screaming. Black smoke rising from me. I wasn’t burning though. No. This thing clung to me like a black veil, obscuring my vision and perception of the world.
Unworthiness. Bloody unworthiness. Endless bloody unworthiness. It restricted my breath trying to smother me, my dreams and my hope.
Everyday I woke up with that high pitched voice in my head spewing it’s nastiness into my conscious and sometimes not so conscious mind. “You’re delusional, talentless, worthless.” Yadda yadda yadda. And everyday, I’d fight back using action as my weapon.
I just did what I was doing regardless of the sometimes overwhelming desire to give up. There were times I didn’t understand what the point of me was. There were times I was so physically ill I couldn’t walk from my bed to the bathroom. There were times when I felt like my heart was literally bleeding to death. Why? Because somewhere along my 40 years on the planet I’d obtained the belief that I wasn’t worth shit.
Yeah. I’m leaving that behind in 2015 never to return. Have it Universe.
Next question. “What is it you have made room for now that you’ve let go of the old?”
I’ve left room for me in all my rawness and I want that for you too. I hope that we stop mercilessly judging ourselves and each other. That we live as our own innate, instinctual selves. I hope we become unafraid to expose ourselves to the world and walk in our very own shoes. That the person who most influences you – is you. That we remember all the knowledge we already know – but we just forgot.
I hope that we are inspired everyday of our lives by something, be it beauty or tragedy or winter or summer. Let it touch every nerve ending we possess so that we come alive with blasts of electricity and passion. Each cell awakening into newness. May we know tolerance. May our minds be blown apart – wide open and free. May we learn to want it all – ask for it all – let it come so fast that we don’t know which part to catch first. May we dance to our own music – but share it with the world. May we know without question – our own worthiness.