Wearing a cloak of bravado, I hid my secret identity deep within a labyrinth of protective walls. This technique was so successful that I began to believe myself to be the cloak, but the cloak wore thin, the threadbare edges too weak to hold at bay the pain and rage that tormented me. When the cloak finally fell to dust around my feet, I found that I was only breath. Breath and tears. It was then that my Soul whispered to me …
Once upon a time there was a cold and frightful darkness that spread its icy fingers around the maiden’s heart. Its roots grew, following the marble patterns of her veins, weakening her as they spread. Her breath shallowed, almost unnoticed, over time and her spirit grew dim. Years of dreamless, numbing sleep rolled on. Her Angels called her to awaken, but she could not hear through the thick wadding of grief and loss that dimmed her light and numbed her senses.
One lonely night, grief overcame her and she cried so much that her tears filled the humble room and floated her right up through the roof and out into the deep, starry sky. She became smaller and smaller, dissolving into stardust, but her Guardian Angel quickly reached out in rescue and brushed the tip of their wing over her heart. A single note rang out as clear and light as crystal. The spell was broken and the maiden crashed back to earth and awoke with a start in her bed, gasping for air, checking her body to see if it was still there.
Slowly the shock of what she had experienced eased and she found her senses to be heightened and her mind clear. She looked around as if seeing for the first time, the empty shell that was her home. The walls had crumbled like shed skin. Grey and barren emptiness stretched out before her. She tried to rise, but a fierce wind whipped her face and beneath her feet the sand seemed to pull her down with a magnetic force. She fell to her knees.
‘Help’, she whispered, ‘I need help.’ The sound of her weak and raspy breath surprised her and she thought she might die.
‘What had it all been for – the effort, the dedication, the suffering?’ she wondered. ‘I’m dying, but have I really even lived? There has to be more … I want more …’
And with that flicker of desire, she wrenched enough courage out of fate’s hand and pushed herself up, determined to find the parts of herself she had not previously realised were lost. Determined now, having no map, nor navigation tools, she put one shaky step in front of the other and followed a sinuous sense of survival that grew into a luminescent thread of hope. This golden lifeline led her into the muddy unconscious where she found enough tools to survive and a vessel to carry her through. With fierce courage the maiden set sail into the uncharted waters of the Soul.
The seas were rough and challenged her at every turn, but she earned her rite of passage, soon becoming the bravest, most fearsome pirate the unknown had ever seen. Maiden no longer, but huntress now. Her strength and prowess became legend. She had amassed wealth, fame and wisdom. She had everything.
Everything, save love. Save wholeness. Tenderness. For this she yearned still, to cherish and be cherished in return.
The huntress examined her charts and read the heavens. It was clear. There was another ocean to sail. The huntress of care and connection would now have to immerse herself in her heart. Sword in hand, ready for anything, she yelled: ‘Bring it on!’ But her weapons held no sway in this realm and the heart did not surrender to her demands. Instead, the heart coaxed her, gently inviting stillness to be her companion. She tended the relationship and invited stillness into her world and with this, came the soft voice of her Soul.
‘Gentleness,’ guided the inner being. ‘An open and inquisitive mind, tempered with compassion will win your heart over. Here your courage is essential, for it will be your ability to weather vulnerability that holds your success in check.’
Taking heed, the huntress whispered desires to her Soul-self and listened with sensitivity to her heart.
Being an explorer meant that she had to master many languages – those of symbol, emotion, creation and soul-speak. She honed the skills of awareness and observer, and developed an ability to see beyond the obvious. She travelled to the realms of the spirit and danced with the angels, swam in the wild waters of creation and re-wove the fabric of her universe.
Every day she looked at herself and her world anew. Following the warm glow of curiosity, she created a caring, non-judgemental environment which became supportive of change and expansion. This inspired transformation process forged new channels, leading to the true treasure, buried deep within.
Upon opening the treasure chest, she found riches in passion, purpose and love, but to her surprise, she also discovered her deepest wounds. Each injury had a tale to tell and as she listened she became the interpreter of the stories, the balm that led to wholeness … the worthiness whisperer. Surrendering to the gifts of her wounds, the worthiness whisperer brought herself to inner peace.
Some wounds healed faster than others and some left deep, jagged scars. Those became the stars that led her home, to her sense of innate worthiness.
And so it came to be that our hero explored the depths of her soul and came to know her truth. She shed the false skin that was never hers and stilled the erosive voices of inadequacy. Ever the explorer, she set sail once more to build a life of freedom on an ocean of compassionate awareness; where her sense of knowing reached the depths of the universe; where she cherished the wholeness of her internal world and opened her heart to an inspired and soulful life, blessed with love.