transforming post-cohort, holy grief…

blog, i have missed you! it’s been a week cause i have been in school all week and all day. i came out the other end different. a few weeks ago an astrologer friend pointed out that pluto is heading over my north node and gonna stay there for three years. what this means in essence is: grief and loss are going to transform my life purpose for the next three years. not fun news, but i accept it because my life thus far i would not classify as fun even if i have fun to balance out all the work. i am already a scorpio ruled by pluto so i got this. but not so fast, me. pluto takes one to their knees, and i am on mine. it began first with grief coming up around letting go of my old identity. no more am i the bohemian artist “trying to make it”, or the reluctant healer, or the priestess not touching earth, or the tortured soul, or the dependent child. grieving this old identity feels very painful. though what i am learning about grief thus far is; the pain is not painful. the pain does not feel like suffering. there is beauty in the pain as my friend pointed out to me. the pain moves, it is not static or conceptual. it is more live a river. maybe that’s why the the river styx courses through the underworld, where grief finds home. so…at this cohort gathering, i entered a new layer of grief. in 1995 i had a very traumatic summer that i never grieved or felt the feelings for. i did not even know i had not felt the feelings until they came spilling out yesterday. our teacher referred to herself as a narwhal and her oceanic horn pierced a veil over my heart during a crisis intervention teaching. up came the crisis from twenty years ago, just like that, completely unexpected. my friends took me outside and became my ground and lighthouse, allowing me to pour out the feelings and keeping me on track to what was happening. wow. to have gone twenty years only naming the feelings like an intellectual. to have gone twenty years analyzing why it happened, what it did to me, and how i needed to heal mentally…and to implement the healing without feeling the feelings? holy shit. i allowed the feelings to gush out. it was very sad. grief took hold and is still with me. when i said to him, “i know this isn’t true, but why can’t i live a normal life like everybody else,” he responded with, “it’s the loss of time,” and it home. i burst out tears of truth. twenty years lost to one summer. the sadness is grief and nothing else. nothing to fix or heal. just grief to feel. and to feel the story alive in my heart as it was alive twenty years ago? oy guvalt, as my mother would say. not fun, not easy. luckily i have done enough healing to not feel any second arrows. but what i do feel is a need to tell the story again. damn. really? i thought i was done. grief says i am not done. as we learn in school, everything i am effected by effects the system. my story is a catalyst of healing for others. this time i will tell the story without the psychiatrist writing it. i named the part of myself that lives strong inside me as the masculine in control. he is the psychiatrist. now a new part awakens to narrate. it wont be the priestess, the psychiatrist, or the wounded child telling the story this time. who will it be? more later, as this new narrator has yet to emerge. school is training me to be in the moment and allow chaos to guide me. so powerful. i am not going to break this blog up onto paragraphs. the reason why i usually don’t is on purpose in attempt to make the reader feel how the thoughts enter and occupy my head space. all at once with no breaks. it’s a visceral style of writing…

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