An Old Box

After the last few dreams I've experien- ced, I felt the need to go through an old box I've been carrying around since Heidi was born. Therein lie pictures and memorabilia that haven't seen the light of day for many years. Pictures of myself as a child, my children, family pets, ex-husbands, extended families...as soon as I retrieved the box, I wanted to run.

I had planned to visit my mother this afternoon. The visit suddenly became very important; no time for memories contained within this box. Saved by the bell...

Here, in this old box, are the remnants, the tattered remains of the last fifty-five years. Each item has associations with links to all those years. There are a lot of memories here that I haven't faced...ever.

My reaction when I faced that box, which turned into a huge, nauseating being right before my eyes, tells me there are things within I must lay to rest. Isn't it amazing how my dreams have directed me straight to the source of old longings, realities and beliefs?

My guides have shown me the way. In order to show my respect and honour, I will walk that dark, twisted path, cleaning broken branches and shrubbery as I go. Letting in the sun.

Tomorrow or perhaps this afternoon, I will brave those emotions that arise. The painful sludge that arises deserves to go into the garbage to be shredded into fine particles.

And then as I go for a walk around the garden, on the wind comes a message...the anticipation of doing this journey to the past is far worse than the reality will be.

Authority, impeccability, clear intent and no fear is what shamanism is all about. And I won't be clearing this garbage out alone.