Walking with the Woods, listening, I received some beautiful teachings about grief and letting go. As I walked in silence, hearing the shuffle of leaves at my feet, the birds calling, the river moving, I noticed the presence of a Holy Silence. It was then I saw the beautiful handful of Lungwort at my feet, having fallen from a nearby branch. Partly transitioned itself, it spoke to me about death, grief, loss and letting go as I cradled it in my hand. About how & where we hold it grief in our bodies and the need to tend, and release this sacred energy.
The plant showed me how when our Grief arrives, it can become so big that it expands to occupy the whole of us, moving right into the edges, corners, and small tucked away pockets. So much so that even when we no longer feel eclipsed by it's original arrival, there can be a good lot of it left in our fields, bodies, minds, hearts and souls.
Ever so gently this beautiful plant spoke to me about releasing what is held in the lungs, in preparation for the great rest that is coming in the form of what we call "winter". With sureness and exquisite gentleness I felt the medicine of this teaching mingle through my own lungs, softly illuminating where I was holding, and what would come should I choose to let it go.
Clearing out the last of what was held in my lungs would allow Rest to deeply enter, bringing the magic, medicine, and teachings it carries. I would benefit me to the degree to which I made space for it to enter my field, my body, my self. The more room I make for Rest, the more contact I can have with her.
The lungwort showed me glimmers of how this would feel, which brought tears to my eyes at the beauty, mercy and grace of it, rendering me quite willing. I wondered about the "how"... as there are so many ways to work through these things, and the answer came soon enough.
On the edge of the path stood a glorious Maple tree, standing with so much beauty. She held her leaves with dignity, illuminated with golden light. As I stood with her, she spoke to me about letting go. How she gathered all the energy of the year (spring, summer and now autumn), consolidating it into the glowing yellow at the tips of her branches.
She told me that it would be a grand show, this turning of colors, this releasing of what was, of all of her efforts, of her work thus far. She showed me how unlike humans, she was one with the process, not against it. She felt no melancholy, bitterness or fear. She stood with elegant, graceful dignity, holding her beloved self up in a final show of beauty, claiming all that she was, all that she had done, all that had transpired along the way to now. Holding, honoring, witnessing, and then, releasing. This releasing results in a showering of gold upon the forest floor, adding both beauty and nutrients to the very foundation of her being.
Death makes Life is what she said. So for her, it was a joy to "let go".
Newly, I look forward to receiving Lady Winter, in her sparkling frosty cape. I am so curious what will come from tucking in for a deep rest, folded into Winter. Grateful to the Lungwort and Maple teachings, for having made space for her to arrive, and for Rest to take up some space within my newly emptied lungs.
During these very rich and trying times on our planet, I am aware that many are experiencing both deep personal and trans-personal letting go. There is much grief in and around our lives, personal, local, global, galactic. Grief that is contemporary & current, grief that is ancient & ancestral. All up at the surface at this time, magnetized by the energetic field of Healing that washes over Earth at this time. I am not alone in this, you are not alone in this.
Grateful to have received this teaching, and the healing it has already activated in myself, I felt called to share with the greater world. In keeping with my Irish nation, I offer a beautiful saying;
"In the shelter of each other, the people live / Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine".
If you find yourself needing support, care, a sheltered place to receive, be witnessed, grieve, heal, drop me a line.