The Emerging
Sedona, AZ - 2020
Sometimes I receive waves of creative inspiration, and I know I’m meant to pick up a pen (or open up my Notes or Pages app) and just start free writing. In these moments of inspiration, I’m under a spell from the Divine and I try my best not to question it. I just let the words flow onto the page. I don’t try to make it a “poem” or a “short story” or an “article.” I just let the words I’m hearing in my heart spill out onto a page and be what it will.
“The Emerging” was one of those moments. I wrote this shortly after returning home from a life-changing solo soul excursion in Sedona, AZ in September/October 2020. I had a profound experience in Sedona where I felt like I came into union with my heart. Amongst meditation and exploration of the majestic Sedona “vortexes,” I remembered to remember my inherent worth, and this spiritual experience was unforgettable.
More on this later. But through the process of writing this “short story” (or whatever it is!), a truth solidified in my heart—something I had been contemplating heavily in fact since April 2020. We can hit rock bottom. We can get dragged in the dirt. We can lose ourselves. We can forget who we are. But if we look, listen, pay attention, tune in…the Divine is always sending us directions to not only navigate out of that place, but to make us stronger and wiser for it too. To change us. To grow us. And it is through creativity in all kinds of ways that we can truly transform ourselves. It is our conversation with God. It is expression through wisdom. It’s making something brand new out of what was. It is growth. It is magic. It is alchemy.
The Emerging
When she emerged from her dark night of the soul voyage, no one from her last chapter had remained. She kissed the land after choppy waters raged, but when she called out with delight of her fresh discoveries, her voice only echoed back to herself on this strange island. (How long had this night been?). Regret visited mercilessly. Resentment tried to pull her back like an undertow.
But faith told her to trust. There was no longer a need to prove herself to anyone but herself. They only knew the her that was then before the her that is now. The falsest version of her self before her brightest one. But alas, only now is here and only here is now.
She remembered to remember who she is. All in divine time, convenient or not. She remembers to never again forget. The liberation in knowing there’s no going back to outdated beliefs; to unaligned patterns... It brings her to her knees. It sends her to new heights. Flame ignited. Union restored. SHE REMEMBERS WHO SHE IS.
And so she approaches the next book in her ever-expanding series, resilient in her new and destined self, towards the red horizon. Walking in her full integrity for the first time in centuries. No longer afraid to be seen. No longer ashamed for shining. No longer asking for permission to be. No longer under the thumb of emotional disillusions. She’s begun melting away the filters stacked in her soul. Letting the light burst through that was trapped for lifetimes.
Bewildered in the newness, but empowered by the awakening. Not afraid anymore to face the shadows and converse openly with fears while holding compassionate authority. Throwing the anchor down with reckless truth and majestic exhilaration. A brand new knowing she’ll never betray herself again. Unapologetic authenticity. Accountability without brutal judgement. Airy discernment. A quiet victory to celebrate in an emancipated meaningful prayer.
Smiling softly at the sound of a heavy book closing because she stuck with it till the end, even when it meant reading in the dark and questioning the twisting plot on torn and faded pages. Knowing deep down underneath the confusion she’d make it through somehow.
Yes, even when the mind played cruel games and made her sick from sabotage. When she abandoned herself. When the words she wanted to say wouldn’t materialize, but hid down in her layered depths to haunt her. Even when the words she spoke out loud didn’t match the desperate words that were screaming on the inside. When building walls seemed like the smart and safe thing to do (the coward fronting as the hero. The child fronting as the woman).
When she desired what was truly hers, but didn’t yet have the courage to receive it. Or trust it. When feeling anything at all was too petrifying, so she wrapped herself in an invisible cloak instead of showing up. When she meticulously pushed away what she expected would hurt her, not realizing that her fear was shielding what was really her most precious joy.
When she acted like it was nothing, but it was everything. When she acted like it was everything, but it was nothing. When she forgot her worth so she spoke like a loaded gun, despite the betrayed look that her own words brought to her own eyes. A war on herself. Known to no one. Misunderstood on purpose. A prisoner holding the key to the lock. Until she laid her defense weapons down.
The heart said, “well, keep going.” The heart said, “time to forgive.” The heart said, “spread your wings.” The heart said, “TRUST.” She kept asking questions while the answers simply waited, ever gentle, ever present. And they’d wait as long as it took for her to unearth. Love is patient. Love is kind. Little seed, containable no more. The sun sparkling, conjuring her breakthrough. The crystal ball wasn’t in the cards. The crystal ball was in her heart.
Returning the worn volume to the bookshelf with a sweet exhale and lightheartedness. Spirit says, “you can write the next one, dear heart. You’ve always held the pen.” She used to curse the dark, waving a wand solely in the light to conjure forth dreams, but only in vain. Because the basis of alchemy is embracing the whole. All the elements, even what made the scars. Accepting both the scars and the stars, wholeheartedly. The light and the dark. The shine and the shadow. Knowing that it all matters, but not all of it reigns. Transmuting energy requires all parts of the formula. No shortcuts.
There’s empathy in the entirety. Power from the pain. Beauty in the ashes. A diamond is not a diamond without pressure. The truth is in the totality. There’s salvation in her hand finally finding the light switch in a buried room. But first she had to walk—trip, stumble, fall, feel, crawl—through. She needed to navigate in the night. But God always gave her the moon for when she felt the call to upturn her face. Its glow was nevertheless constant, guiding her home.
Home at last. At last. AT LAST! She laughs at how simple it seems. (How obvious). All but a shift, so little yet so grand. A different kind of island after all. Expanding under each step. Limitless.
Free-falling on a crisp blank page with a joy of newfound, yet familiar magic. Always ever at her fingertips. That dirt under her nails is gold dust. What she sought was seeking her. Patiently burning, sending a smoke signal with empathy. Never giving up. The stormy sea was within, but so was the delectable stillness. (How thrilling is this!) She spins like a galaxy. Free in surrender to the wild unknown. Free to always remember to remember. Free to feel restored. Free to be reborn.
