But it was not easy.
When the emotion is stored in a physical form of both current day trauma and ways of past lives, it nestles in as though our friend and we think, because it tricks us, that our feelings are right and true. And so we burrow in with our stories to keep them there.
But these false friends are really fiends of ancient times and other places and do not serve, no longer teach, and need to purge outside of us so we may then see clearer days.
And so we look for dirt and tools to journey in. Meditations and deep ritual, dancing and ceremony, and the taking of the elixir that tastes like earth and is familiar. And then, in chanting and rhythm and community nurturing we see ourselves go in and watch as we let go.
And though old tales hold hard and tight in shadow play and darkened spaces, in the distance angels come to move these stories fast along. Until we are here, in this new form from going through and sitting still.
And this is when our grace appears.