Story

The Journey Continues .... and we all join

Wow what a year so far it has been for so many. 

So many significant events have come, gone and some still carry on, that the chaos of change has, and I think I can say honestly, all of us swirling!

Standing Rock called everyone out of the sleep! It asked us were we really serious about protecting this planet, our children and grand children, and standing on the brink for what we believed was true.  It also held up to us who we might be appropriating an expression of spirituality that wasn't ours. 

Black Live Matter showed us our privilege as a White race. It really asked us to own it or go home. 

The election of Donald Trump showed us how deeply asleep we were, how disconnected from each other, and asked us were we really serious about equality and freedom.

Still the journey continues and how are we going to travel? What is really important to you? Do you really walk your talk? Is your spirituality based on Indigenous tribes that aren't our ancestry? Is our privilege harming those we say we fight to protect?

Is love and light going to change the world? Is the love we say we offer strong enough?

Are we sharing and teaching from our ancestral medicine? Are we sharing and teaching to make a buck?  Is our wildness really ours? Is it really expressed? Do we own it?

These are questions that only we can answer. 

For me, I have focused my uncovering on my ancestral medicine. As I learn, I am finding that other memories, doorways, and mentors enter my life. My ancestral wisdom and healing comes flowing up into my consciousness. The unconscious patterns come forward. I have a choice to change them, create healing around them or embrace them as a way of being. There is a wisdom in the simple life they lived. Yes it was hard and often short but it was full and free. I am not naive enough to think the Irish famine was a walk in the park or any other hardship many of our ancestors experienced. Slavery certainly wasn't a joy. It was filled with violence and hatred.

Our ancestors did find a moment to love and feel joy. A human experience isn't without its pitfalls and persecutions. I do believe that they had a connection to the land that we only glimpse. They had a connection to a deeper story steeped in a sacred living. It was this deeper sacred story that helped them to wake each morning. It helped them to bring life into the world that was harsh. 

As I relinquish the many possessions in my life I find a simplicity. I have more time to be on the land whether it is in hiking or walking around town. I am in the world enjoying its various flavors and humans. My ancestral medicine contains within it a responsibility to protect, preserve, love, and relish the land, these crazy humans, and amazing animals. It is the combination of this spiritual ownership with the celebration of our value that brings about joy, strength and eventually change.

I would gladly go back to the Neolithic Age where we lived in communion with the land, people and animals. Where the magic of our life sustained us and helped to birth new life. When we looked to the Stars and knew we were connected to a greater expansive existence. When we didn't need to conquer in order to feel whole.

As white Europeans, especially Americans, we have lost our medicine. This loss has created a constant search for wholeness. Our souls ache, our bodies ache, our minds wander in search for the magic, the connection, and the communion our ancestors knew.

For me it is time to own the past, present and future darkness of hatred and greed as well as the lightness of the joys and love. 

Join me, there is room for all.

Traveling on ~

The Soul Traveler

Fireside Chat with Crones - Suzanne Wigginton

There are those moments in time when what you imagine an event could be and what takes place do not disappoint.  Those are special times and are often marked by divinity's essence and blessing.

The Fireside Chat for October waited to appear until the end of the month.  The taping was originally scheduled for the evening of October 21 and that morning I rose knowing that there would be a need to reschedule.  I reached out to Suzanne offering flexibility and it was readily accepted.  Not concerned about moving it to the next week and sending supporting energy to Suzanne, I glanced at the calendar discovering that Mercury would not be going direct until Saturday, October 25, and giggled.  The Universe knows the normal computer challenges I still wrestle with in the creation of these chats and once again had interceded on our behalf.   I am not one to shy away from Mercury retrogrades and often welcome the opportunity to use that time to review and tweak my growth yet I do honor its placement in our lives and know it can be a trickster.

Arriving at our scheduled time the next week came with a lightness and no rushing in preparing for the chat.  The moment proceeded to descend into its slot with a very distinct flavor of beauty.  It is really hard to explain in words and yet this particular flavor of beauty is very present within the video.

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Working and chatting with Suzanne has always brought both of us many moments of deep Ah-ha's and pivotal shifts for our individual lives.  It is a friendship that developed during our shamanic apprenticeship 3 years ago, blossomed on a trip to Ireland, and matured over many a night of giggling and honesty.  Reflecting as I write this, I really shouldn't have been surprised that the imagined exchange between us became a reality.

Our discussion reflects the steps we have taken into our crone years.  I, being baptized into my crone-hood several years ago and Suzanne just inching her way onto the crone path, both of us represent the higher request - to ignite the light for crones anywhere on their path, mentor those to come, and bring back into the world the beauty of the wisdom of the elders.

Reaching a 'certain age' one should have it all by then, have it all accomplished and as we chatted, .... "hope you have accomplished everything you set out to do...Well WHY???  I still have the magic and majesty of my Crone years now to create something else altogether if I choose to........ and that's a piece I think we are missing overall a piece we have lost."  

As women, we should all be cookie bakers and apron wearers but by who's standards?  Cookies and aprons are needed in the world as well as the Maxine's.  Life hasn't ended just because we are crones.

As long time crones, new crones, or just embarking, what is it we so want to accomplish before we depart? What is it that we can bring to this world that helps mentor all of us, all women, men, & children, past, present and future?  To know the magic of the world, to just be in it, is one of the many gifts the crone brings to the world.  To understand that we, as crones, come full circle and are back in the energy of the divine child is a much needed quality in this world.  What inner child dreams are whispering to you to come full circle and experience?  

There is so much depth in this chat!  I have so enjoyed listening over and over to the exchange of two women desiring to bring more into the world, bring to all who have experienced a disconnect to the empowerment of our later wisdom years. We don't have the answers but we are willing to ask the questions hoping to ignite the light in the darkness that has laid dormant for women generation after generation of the wisdom that comes from living our lives as fully as we can.  We ALL hold a piece for each other.  

I hope you enjoy this chat as much as we enjoyed creating it.  I am honored to have Suzanne be apart of this much bigger piece that the Universe is driving.

I welcome your comments, thoughts, and dreams.  Being a crone is about being you, the divine essence that is here now, asking to be given a voice, a signature that will add upon the light brightening this awesome aspect of life...... the final journey.  

And the journey continues ~ The Soul Traveler

Connect with Suzanne here ~ 

Website www.suzannewigginton.com

Email suzanne@suzannewigginton.com

Souls Aloft Radio www.blogtalkradio.com/suzannewigginton

FB  www.facebook.com/timeforyou


And so .....

As the months of 2014 ebb and flow to us, I realize that I have been on a 7 month journey of unemployment insurance that has drawn to an end.  

I know without a shadow of doubt that I am not the same woman who looked out into the world on November 27, 2013.  I cannot even remember who she was.  There is a tad bit of a memory of how she felt and an understanding of her story.  There is a deeper understanding of how the story dissolved, the realization of a stronger essence of her, and a willingness to feel into the moment and hold no expectation, no opinion of what is to be. 

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Oh the journey was complete with wildness, back-ups, and delight.  It carried me to a place I had desired to hold deeply.  It carried me out into a jungle replete with tangles, rushing water, and mystery.  The adventure did not disappoint.  It has no ending.

I am truly blessed with the opportunity to focus solely on my path.  And these last 7 months allowed a deeper involvement into uncovering this path.  It enabled me to bring into my daily life a realization of how my path, even the search of it, was individualized from others. 

Through this time a stronger concise understanding of who I was, coupled with a releasing of old patterns and beliefs, balanced by acceptance of the value of illusion moved me into an empathy of self and my community.  The freedom to lay about, wander the mountain top, grovel in the frustrations, and epitomize standardization pushed me to turn and deny the existence of self; to die to myself as I had never imagined.

There has been a shamans death experience, a mystics evaporation, and yet what I was being asked for did not contain another level of these prerequisites to soul evolution.  I have experienced a burning to the ground, the severing of the leash, but I had not experienced the dying to myself.  The dying took place sudden with the realization of the ask, moved into flowing with the demands of daily life, and ended in an ancient ritual that almost seemed uneventful.  It was the forward motion after the dying that emphasized the Divine's request.  

Every time I looked to draw a frame of reference the screen was blank.  It wasn't just the screen of Future but the screen of Past that lay black and empty.  Only the place of Here and Now held any form or design.  Anything presenting itself to me was met with nothing but what I knew to be true for me.  Trying to decipher anything has been unsettling.

The unsettling is not in being unable to fit in or know the direction.  The unsettling is learning to walk completely within the present.  It is learning that where I once related in life with others is non-existent and non-essential.  It is non-identifying.  It cannot relate to me as much as I cannot relate to it.  In the midst of all of it, there is laughter, joy, tears, love, and a completeness.  A focus of all is finished within itself bringing with it a solid sense of self without identity.  

Spirit has said others have experienced this and many will join in the dying to themselves.  Everyone will be offered, not all will accept, and all will continue along their path.

Having words to express this past 9 months has been very difficult.  Having words to express this newest endeavor has been even more difficult.  It has not mattered that there are no words.  It does not matter if I ever climb the mountain top, it no longer matters what I hold dear, where I wander, who I meet or don't meet, how I show up to the world is all that matters.  Do I come with my heart open, my mind quiet, my eyes bright, my ears listening, and my tongue gentle? Do I come willing to share everything including the unacceptable?  Do I come each day willing to make it a good day to die?  Do I come prepared to return to the primordial juices?  Am I willing to live outside the perceived existence of all that matters?  Am I willing to be the ancient?  Am I willing to hold past, present, future completely within me?

These questions may seem to be those we all ask ourselves daily.  This time there is a very large difference in asking them.  We all know being who we truly are means living with hearts open, mind quiet, listening, no opinions, etc., and yet this is different.  

Dying to yourself means you cannot do anything else but show up as an unidentifiable person.  You cannot be You.  You can only Be.

The Soul Traveler

 

Turning Points

Life is filled with so many turning points.  They can be driven by us and sometimes we perceive them to be thrown at us.  

Many years ago I stopped perceiving them as out of my control and sent by others.  I have also stopped using change, closure, and endings.  Those 3 simple words carry a heavy dose of societal fear.  I don't believe that the true essence of these words is fear.  No, we have created stories around these words that have driven us for many centuries deeper into fear.  

Turning points still hold an essence of movement forward, a grace of accomplishment, and a base of self creation.  This word carries an elegance of dance waiting to be performed.  It holds within it beauty, presence, and mystery.

This week holds a particular turning point for me.  This week I complete the final year of an apprenticeship.  Three years ago I was gifted a teacher to support me in unlocking a deeper sense of my true essence.  The first year was filled with an immersion into a grounded contemporary shamanic apprenticeship where I discovered a deeper understanding of my innate connection to this ancient modality blended with modern perspective and tools.  I relished in the guidance and unfoldment always excited for more.  The 2nd year was a practicum.  Although it was 4 months in actual interaction it did not come up short.  I was challenged to bring out into the world what my first year unlocked.  There were many days of struggle to create the essence of leaning into my style and signature.  Through it all was my teacher, Robin Rice, holding the space from a distance.  This year I was a gifted with helping her to support a group of apprentices under her guidance while continuing my learning.  Spanish immersion was the phrase used to describe the teaching, sharing, and growth.  It lived up to its title.  As the months unfolded it became very clear how expertly she had taken me from our first encounter, through the pathways, and back to my original teacher ~ Spirit.  I had come full circle in the spiral always moving up and forward.

The gratitude that flows as I reflect upon this journey will carry me deeper and further than I have gone.  I bow in honor of who she is to the world, to me and to herself.  A woman who has heard the call of her soul and answered time and time again.

In life we are gifted people who bring to us without question pieces of our essence and hold us as we unwrap and embrace them.  They stand holding no judgement of our choices and too long held stories.  Always patient they wrap us in our essence we, ourselves, have yet to discover.

With this turning point being held out in front of me, I step gently ready to continue forward, welcoming the adventure, and relishing those I will meet along the way.  I carry within me a deeper knowledge of our communal journeys, my commitment to my community, my delight in the mystery around me, and the courage to answer the call of my soul over and over again.  My life will be different.  It has no choice because I am different.  My life will be more.  I am more.  

Will a teacher cross my path again, perhaps?  

For now I embark upon a stronger knowing of my true essence bringing it out into the world, sharing all that is being asked by my soul and Spirit to continue giving to my community, family, and friends.

To Turning Points xoxo

The Soul Traveler

No sympathy... just be

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I honestly don't know how to begin or really why share what I am being asked to share.  

All of our lives are punctuated by moments that shape them.  They can be tragic, simple, moving, courageous and a myriad of other adverbs.  Having added shamanism to my modalities I truly believe that it is through releasing our stories that great healing and spiritual communion takes place.  I also know that the human species learns through stories that are shared.  My dilemma is about sharing one particular personal story.  

I am currently taking a writing intensive course to help push into the world a story I penned several years ago.  Stories need to be written and if they only touch one person it has accomplished its purpose.  I get that.  What is happening is a personal story is surfacing, one I verbally share when the need arises. It is a subject that has been written many times by other authors.  I personally am not in need of telling the story, yet the story keeps asking to be written.  

I am adding a disclaimer here - Please NO sympathy... just be with this raw and naked story.

 

The Matrix of the Heart -

May 4, 1999 was like no other day.  It was a day of reckoning, not just for me it would also be for everyone who had ever come in contact with me.  It did start unusual but not glaringly unusual.  I am getting ahead of myself so let me start over.

Once upon a time there lived a very beautiful, stubborn, independent young woman.  Oh she thought she understood the cruelty of the world and how to traverse through it so as not to get harmed.  Little did she know that soon her life would ask even more.  Into her life would come a screaming, demanding, carefree loving creature that would one day break her heart.

But before that happened there was much to take place.  

Yes you guessed it I am describing the younger me.  I really believed that I knew how to traverse the world, the world that had given me years of pain, confusion, and isolation during a time when most young women were trying on new dresses, new boyfriends, and new identities.  As soon as high school was over I leapt at the chance to get as far away from home, friends, and family to strike out on my own.  I succeeded by arriving in Albuquerque to start what I thought was to be a new life.  The new start lasted 2 years before all the pain that had been buried surfaced in the form of drugs and alcohol leading to the departure from New Mexico and the return to my beginnings.  Stubbornly I refused to seek help and once again traversed the highways for a new beginning.  Thank god I had a magnificent guardian angel that tweaked my trail to recovery. Leaving the bar scene behind literally, I found employment in banking taking me to an environment that required I sober up.  I excelled at the banking craft, found a wonderful man, and started to clear the fog from my eyes.  As so often happens moments come forward that forever alter our lives.  

One lovely winter day, as I stood in the dressing room with my mother, I made a remark on some physical changes I was experiencing.  My mother never even blinked.  Two months later I knew without a shadow of doubt what those physical changes meant. Yep you guessed it.

Before my son was born his father in the quiet of the night left me with the excuse he had not asked for this right now.  I cried for 3 nights exactly, begging to not be pregnant then quietly put his picture away and assumed the position of single mother.  I struggled to pay the rent and panicked over telling my boss I was pregnant.  Telling my parents was scary but nothing like telling a boss who held the ability to fire me.  This was pre-FMLA, not so long ago they could fire you for being single and pregnant.  I carried on.  It was a time of reflection, determination, and a strange connection was building deep within me.

Oh I remember the day he was born!  I adored this bundle.  The hushed whispers weren't hushed enough.  I heard the remarks of being an unwed mother. I felt the judgment.  I also firmly told the nurses if one more person asked me if I was going to give him up for adoption I would rip their heads off.  It was at that point that I finally was able to hold my son, not a couple of hours later but 6 hours later.  He was beautiful!!  He spoke to me and whispered thanks.  Together we walked out into the world ready to face anything it could serve us.

The first 5 months were pure hell.  He had colic and would not sleep.  I had a job that required I show up rested or once again they could fire me.  His father reappeared asking to see his son, apologized, and then broached the subject of his return.  I agreed, said my peace and he became the nanny until he went overseas.  Stories could be told of those months, funny stories but those are his stories not mine to share. His father stayed 18 months and once again my son and I were alone.   

We spent the next 4 years alone together.  It was not all ice cream and cake.  I wasn’t particularly the Martha Stewart of Motherhood.  I loved him and parented the best I knew how.  We giggled, we cried, we yelled, a lot of yelling, we moved, we talked, we read, we lived and knew each other like no one else knew us.  Again changed entered our life. 

Thinking that we needed to add a father into the dynamics  I remarried.  We welcomed him and his children into our life.  This was a whole other ball game, a game that really needed help.  It lasted for 9 years until finally I came home and called it quits.  I left because my son was changing from a caring, loving boy into a bigoted, uncaring robot.  I was responsible for instilling love and care into him and could not stand by as a witness to what he was becoming. 

We left in a cloud of destruction.  It was a very nasty time that blew up any false images I had been hanging on to about myself.  It was the moment we had both been marking time for.

My son and I spent the next 5 years reconnecting and growing.  They were times of mud slinging, blaming, crying, and a return to home.  This time was so welcomed by us both!  We could breath once again.  I left behind everything I thought was true about myself.  I walked straight into a spiritual communion with my soul.  My son walked right beside me discovering who he truly was and what all this had been about. 

For the first time without all the baggage, I watched my son excel and become this incredibly wise man.  We would have deep spiritual discussions of why, how, what, and just because.  He mirrored to me how my ego would interfere with my perceptions.  He taught me how words could change realities and he helped clarified for us why we danced this dance.  I remember having a discussion with him about soul mates and arguing the difference between soul mates and soul partners.  He said to me, “these are just words and labeling used by us to remain in the old paradigm.  There is no difference between the words.   Every person you come into contact is your soul mate/partner.  If we choose, these interactions will offer a deep intimacy.  We get confused and think the intimacy we feel with a soul mate should lead to sex because sex has been our tool to this intimacy.  The common form of sex, the way we use it, is the ego’s use of illusion and deception.’   And his favorite, ‘get over yourself, there are a billion other you’s out there struggling with the same questions, believing the same illusions’. 

I loved those nights of deep discussion and sharing. I relaxed the mother role, welcomed him into a new relationship of being the adult I had seen he would one day become and mentored him as he stepped into his dreams.

Together we woke to a morning that would forever punctuate our lives.  It was a normal early day in May but it wasn’t completely normal.  He struggled with waking up and starting his day.  My appointments for the day had changed twice before 9am. 

The night before we had stayed up late just chatting.  The conversation found itself heading into a baring of our souls to each other.  I apologized to him for not being the mother who could go a day without yelling and keeping his younger years stable.  I told him I was so very proud of him and that the man he was would be an incredible husband and father.  I laughed with him about my sometimes over-the-top stubborn insistence on respecting all women and fighting the good fight.  I told him I loved him the minute I found out I was pregnant through all the years and especially now.  He told me he understood I did the best I could and that he always knew that I would be there for him.  He told me he loved me.  I gave him my blessing to follow his own drummer. We finished the night with a hug and kiss. 

Having this memory of that night would support me through the days and years to come.

At 10:30am on May 4, 1999 I would receive a call that would insure I would never remain the same.  I could recite to you the call, the drive, the scene but I don’t want your sympathy.  What I want is to share with you how the matrix of the heart works.  I admit it has taken me many paragraphs to get to this part.  The words have been condensed considering they cover 21 years.  I wanted to show the pattern of our life together.  The pattern that can never be undone nor redone.  They are years that brought my son and I to a departure.  A departure I would not wish on anyone.  It was divinely orchestrated and held wisdom of the ages, deep eternal love, and required me to truly become who I really am. 

The Matrix of the Heart is how I survived my son’s death.  Yes, at first it was survival.  I hated everyone who had a child. I hated myself for being such a shitty mom.  I hated Josh for leaving.  I especially hated God and all his guardian angels.  I hated life.  At the same time I pleaded with God, the Divine, the Universe to take me back to the exact moment when I arrived at the accident and heard the choir of angels welcoming my Josh home.  I wanted to remain forever in their Grace.  I wanted to remain where I could see Josh walking towards the light, towards the love that knocked me off my feet.  I wanted to go where he went. 

Instead I heard his voice call out to me at night telling me he was ok.  Telling me I had promises to fulfill and reminding me of the discussions we had that were to be shared with others.  In my darkest minute a phone would ring and a stalwart friend would bring me back to the present.  Through my dear friends Josh would speak to me.  They shared with me the way I would always know he was near; the penny which would appear out of nowhere.  They sent emails describing him showing up to ride with them on long trips or sit with them as they moved through their own dark nights.

My heart was shattered into oblivion, ached deeply and constantly.  I found myself alone in my grief.  I questioned my sanity. I prayed, begging God to bring him back knowing full well it would never happen.  I gave myself permission for the very first time in my life to sit with all the pain, the pain of being human.  In sitting with all the pain, I found myself.  I glimpsed the light that would bring me out of the dark.  I did not know nor did I care what my life would become.  I just sat in my pain refusing to build a story around it, allowing it to heal.  I allowed the pain to mend my shattered heart. 

My heart healed because I believed that the love I had for my son could never be destroyed.  I knew that his heart and mine, his heart and those he met, my heart and those I met were deeply entwined never to be broken.  No one could ever take that away from me.  I knew God would never ask me to give up Love.  It was through truly loving that I would live again.

No one except someone who has also lost a child could ever understand this moment in my life.  I did not ask anyone to join me there.  I did seek someone to listen as I wailed and grieved.  I found that someone, those someone’s and I know there were times when they felt helpless and tired of hearing the same song.  They never refused to listen.

I know everything leading up to May 1999 prepared me for his death.  My longing to be understood and loved prepared me.  The innate knowing of something deeper than the world I saw outside my window sustained me.  My stubbornness drove me to push through the pain, confusion and helped me not to give up.  The real piece that allowed me to believe in the light, believe in myself, believe that nothing was ever in vain was my awakening to my soul and Spirit.  It was those early years when I first embraced my true essence that brought me through to share my heart. 

There were times when I was carried by my soul. 

It is not for us to know what lies ahead.  It is for us to trust that we have within us the tools to walk our path.  Our lives are not defined by our stories.  They are only punctuated by the moment.  It is when we allow our stories to direct who we are and where we are going that we are lost from the intimacy of Spirit.  No one can ever walk your path for you.  They can and will walk beside you creating a matrix that gives freely.  The matrix can support you during the punctuated moments.  It will help you to loose the story.  It works because the matrix is the true essence of Spirit, of our souls.  It is up to you what you do with the gift of the matrix.    

I know what I did with the Matrix of the Heart. 

xoxoxo

The Soul Traveler and Josh

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