Way back when I first began diving into tarot, meditation and sacred ceremony I attended a 'walking with wolves' workshop with a dear friend.
We were led through a beautiful guided meditation alongside a handful of fellow soul seekers, before taking some time to connect with wolf energy and receive a message from Spirit.
The instruction that came to me was "write yourself free."
It would take me a good many months, years even, to understand what such an invitation truly means.
I have been writing my way through life for as long as I can remember, enjoying sounds and shapes made by letters placed in particular patterns, finding little moments of truth within the stringing together of sentences.
And so to write myself free sounded like something I could do; a challenge, a journey I was ready for, even if I couldn't quite see the road ahead.
With time I came to discover that the freedom I sought externally - the missing map, the elusive key all others seemed to have - resided not so much in anyone or anything out there but rather within me.
Soul Voice given space to breathe, heartfelt expression whether joyful or despairing, all of it necessary and worthy of space upon the page.
And so I wrote and I wrote and I wrote, cracking myself open letter by letter, not knowing any other way but ink and paper and the throbbing of my finger as pen pressed against skin against bone, driving home my story.
Healing, freeing, being fully present to whatever was with a willingness to bear witness. Comfortable and uncomfortable together.
How, then, have I found myself here? Holding certain words back through fear of... What, exactly? I'm not sure.
But there is something held back, I can sense it. New layers of shame, fear, denial emerging as life has shifted and evolved in new ways since then.
That is ok, Wise Wolf says.
Write yourself free once more.
I shall, I am, I do.
Tomorrow I will continue to edit a piece that feels connected to long ago me, close suddenly to present day me, in doing so swimming through the prickly fears that threaten to swallow my voice.
Mmm. No more.
Pen in hand, word by word, I am untied.
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