A W A K E N I N G
4.14.20
[from the journal series]
Awakening: An explosion of awareness shattering the illusions of clean and neat order within the spaces you occupy.
It’s the same world it’s always been, and it isn't. The chasm so wide, endless; familiar and foreign. And there you are, picking up and piecing yourself together into an entirely new being. Same components, reordered, refreshed, uncovered and revealed in a new form. To the outside world much looks the same, but on the inside everything is different. Everything and nothing.
I think back to the “before” me and I know I was her. The memories and sting of pain, shame, dampened spirit still can be brought into visceral experience, but it’s like I don’t know that woman anymore. She is not me. And she is. So much has fallen away from that former life that it’s hard to describe to those who only know this version of me.
Awakening is brutal and beautiful. It is the most gut wrenching, confusing, shit show of a mess, and there is this depth of knowing that it’s on purpose, that it’s true. It’s perfect in a newly defined way. A never ending exploration of the paradox and dualities of being a human, being. Infinite soul living this temporary experience. It’s a learning: to sit with the tension of seemingly contradictory truths— both, and.— and a witnessing. It comes in waves; a series of moments and the moments between [the Void]. It's an unfolding marked with “a-ha’s”, accented by darkness
It certainly would have been easier to stay where I was.
But I would have been trading one type of death for another. Had I stayed where I was, in my marriage, in the corporate climb; had I stayed white knuckle gripped to my striving to be the “good-girl”, having it all together and approved of by anyone and everyone, my soul would have collapsed on itself. I would have been alive, but I would be a shell— appealing from the outside, pretty even, but putrid and rotting on the inside.
When I talk about this path I’ve been on, that I guide other’s through, I tell them that they have a choice— whether to step in or not— and I do believe that. And then, when I think back to my journey and experiences, I know rationally I chose to do the hard and scary things, but it was never about that. Don’t get me wrong: it was fucking hard. To not just be open to and feel what it is to exist in the world on a day to day basis, but to dig into lifetimes of repressed shit, a lot of mine and plenty that isn’t mine to carry yet has been absorbed along the way, has left me feeling like a fucking lunatic some days. Wondering if it will ever end, “am I doing this right?”, “Whats the point of it all”, “no seriously, am I fucking crazy?!?”.
I had a choice.
It just always felt like no good or easy choice, there only was the choice. And especially at the beginning, by the time I got to the point of making it— of changing my status quo— things had gotten so uncomfortable in some ways it felt like: “If I stay in this place, I die. If I leave, it’s going to hurt like hell, but i’ve got a shot”.
In many ways it was life or death.
I wonder if there is a gentle path to waking up? If so, I’ve yet to hear about it. I do know i’ve been forged through the fires of initiation, and there is more to come, always, but it’s as though my mind can’t allow me to feel the intensities of what the last few years has been like. It just feels absolute. Like the steps I had to take. As though there was never another way for me. Like the truth I need.
It’s the truth I need like I need air to breathe; absolute.
Now, fuck if I know where it’s taking me, but it’s taking me. It’s a bizarre experience to witness Self in hindsight, to see the inevitability of it all as though a car crash is happening in slow motion in front of me. How every moment, choice, person, seeming misstep was like a perfectly choreographed dance leading to well…destruction. But, like, in the best and most awful sort of way. And while I don’t know specifically where it is leading me, or where it will call “plot twist” and have me reeling, in a pile of ash and charred bones, it does in fact feel like a dismantling of a structure designed to keep caged the wild ones. Destruction for liberation.
It feels guided with a pinpointed intentionality smothered in what feels often like chaos. Especially in the midst of it all. And the deeper I relinquish into Soul, the more I shed, and the more intimate I become with surrender, the more viscerally I feel the knowing— the more I welcome it, even though there is an awareness that it will likely hurt more than a little bit. And my Catalyst?
Suffocation.
Needing air to breathe and knowing when the air became too thin— too hard to come by— that death of one form or another was imminent. And with death, inevitably came change [on the immediate horizon].
Interesting that this virus is infiltrating our systems and stripping away our ability to get the oxygen we need for our organs to thrive— it’s literally suffocating us. In the microscopic depths— our life blood that flows through our veins— that needs oxygen to survive. Without it, imminent death.
Suffocation walking us into awakening.
Drawing a personal parallel, it’s like my need for the felt experience of truth. Without it— something in me, somewhere in me, warning bells sound— something is wrong: DANGER.
And at times the suffocation was so slow and imperceptible that I didn’t even notice it until I found myself dizzy, disoriented, gasping for air.
Corona virus as a personal metaphor for the fear— that kicks me out of truth and binds itself as a mimic, fooling even my keenest senses for a bit, until all of a sudden— I feel it, that perceptible shift, something’s not right. Something is not true.
And my healing: It’s a going into the depths, clearing out the muck that is weakening my immunity and alchemizing the infiltrated cells in order to bring it all back to balance. To true north. To the highest good. To truth.
I need Truth like I need air to breathe.
This is my awakening journey.
[in R E F L E C T I O N]
“A W A K E N I N G” was birthed as a journal flow I wrote about 2 weeks ago, reflecting on my own awakening journey as I was in the process of reading “More Myself: A Journey” by Alicia Keys and the last paragraph or so I had read before I started journaling one evening where she was reflecting on her process of waking up…
In many ways I was on the path to waking up for years before I really knew what it was. Before I could see what was happening. I knew things were changing, but I didn’t have language, context, role models or community to look toward for support or even a nod that I was going the right way. It just felt like no comfortable options were left and I had to choose the one that would give me a chance to breathe instead of continuing to suffocate [in the boxes created mainly of my own volition based on the messages picked up along the way]. I didn’t know at the time it was my soul crying out— to be witnessed, to be known— to lead the way.
I didn’t realize that the betrayals piling up were like shovels full of dirt thrown on a shallow grave.
I didn’t know until I couldn’t breathe and was forced to start asking “why?”.
And by “ couldn’t breathe” I mean I was actually having minor and sometimes major panic attacks before I walked into the home I shared with my husband at that time— I *literally* couldn’t breathe. I had already been in chronic physical pain for years at that point and most days I felt like a zombie because of the pain, the fact that my sleep was complete garbage and what I came to recognize were other factors that were crushing me.
I still didn’t begin to “see” [not with my actual eyes— but from glimpses into my soul] for quite a while after big change was set in motion, what those were all actually symptoms of. In fact, it took about five years for the big peeling back to really get underway. At that time, now eight years ago, I made one big life changing choice that gave me a little space to breathe, got me out of imminent “danger” [my partner at the time, to be clear was not a dangerous person for me to be physically around, so when I say danger I don’t mean he ever would have intentionally hurt me, definitely not physically, but I was hurting]. And from that point, eight years ago, I continued to do things that were betrayals to the essence of who I am, for years after.
In fact, I spent the next 5 years running; distracting and numbing, punishing myself and trying to avoid freeing myself from the cage of crushing shame and blame I had assigned to myself.
I was running from the truth.
Because I didn’t know what my truth even was and I wasn’t ready to go about to business of dismantling and diving in deep to find it. It wasn’t time then.
So, instead of seeking more truth after the initial “aha” from the universe that something was off and leaving— ending that chapter of my life— I punished myself for choosing what was a “yes” in my Soul. I see in hindsight it was because my choosing me, meant I hurt someone else and I didn’t even realize at the time that I didn’t believe that I was actually allowed to do that: to be that selfish. Everything I had known up to that point was to be a good girl, and good girls do not hurt other people for their own inner peace. Even to save our own lives. But that is a story for another day...
All the time spent in between the “ aha” moments of recognition— that time making decisions out of my values and integrity, accepting crappy behavior from others and matching said crappy behavior; continuing to numb and distract and trying to force myself into a life that didn’t fit anymore— those times are also the perfection of the journey.
How can I see that as perfection? Because it gives contrast and forces truth to the surface. It’s all on purpose and it comes for you in its way, and in the divine timing of your souls unique path. And even the days/weeks/years that you feel you are fucking everything up, that you are lost and can’t find your way out of the darkness; when you are numb and distracted and you are starting to witness how much so— yet you can’t seem to get out of the patterns and habits— yea, that’s a part of it too. It’s all part of it. The highs and lows, when you are at your best and worst. I know that can feel pretty screwed up. And from the human level of processing, it absolutely is. But it also is true.
All to say: Awakening is messy and inconvenient. Shedding old skin is at best uncomfortable; it can’t be comfortable as we need a certain motivation to lean into the metaphorical death of transformation in order to be reborn. Otherwise we would keep wearing and being weighed down by old, dull, dried out skin that maybe looks like us but that we have outgrown; that no longer serves our highest good.
There is no path to true Soul retrieval and liberation that is not forged by some version of the metaphorical fire.
And as i'm over here painting this picture of fire/death and destruction and *likely* scaring the crap out of you; as you may be thinking “oh hellllllll no” and possibly considering getting the hell off this page [and if that’s where you are I always honor that], you may also be wondering “why” and to that I will say: First and always because it’s true and as previously stated: I need truth like I need air to breathe.
And it’s also something that I have a niggling suspicion, that if you aren’t already feeling the inward nudge of recognition that you may be in the process of this grand undoing in order to become; if you have a sinking feeling in the pit of your gut [womb space] that it’s coming for you: It’s already happening.
I have this overwhelming feeling that it’s coming for more than a few of us at this time in our human history— possibly more collectively than ever before. We are birthing something new into the world right now, whether we are a conscious and active participant or not. There is a weaving happening beneath the surface, outside of what the rational mind can even comprehend and it’s beautiful and messy and hard and True.
And while it is all the stuff we have spent a lifetime [or multiple lifetimes] avoiding, because it is painful AF, or because we are flat out afraid, it is also the greatest gift there is. To be alive in this time. With the communities and access to information and wisdom we can tap into. To have the opportunity to come home to Soul truth. To sink deeper and deeper into the bones, into the knowing and sense of trust in all that unfolds. To step fully into our individual power.
It is a gift like no other.
It is also the path to liberation. It is the path to unconditional love. And there is something so beautiful about feeling that contrast. The Knowing. I can’t adequately express with words the everything that it is, just that it is everything. And sometimes it fucking sucks. It’s both.
So, as I am only beginning to scratch the surface on this awakening exploration, I will leave you with this simple and deeply resonant quote I love from “Women Who Run With the Wolves” from Rosario Castellanos, *Mexican mystic and ecstatic poet [who] writes about surrendering to the forces that govern life and death:
"…dadme la muerte que me falta…”
“…give me the death I need…”
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Thank you as always for coming on these journeys inside my mind with me… I would love to hear your reflections on “Awakening” and what it sparked within you. And if you know of anyone who would benefit from my words, please do not hesitate to forward and share.
I truly believe this is a time where more of us than ever are getting the call to wake up and I know firsthand how confusing and overwhelming this journey is. My goal is always to try to put words behind deeply felt senses and that which is unseen and hard to explain, so I hope you can feel the truth behind the words, even when the words may not make sense. This is a space of exploration and curiosity, kindness and non-judgement, and if you are looking to dive deeper into this awakening journey and are seeking a guide, I would be honored to support you on this magnificently messy and beautiful path of Coming Home. You can contact me at info@nicolettebernardes.com.
Stay safe, make being witness a part of your practice, and with so much gratitude and always LOVE,
*”Excerpt from Women Who Run With the Wolves” ,from the story “Hunting: When the Heart Is a Lonely Hunter; Clarissa Pinkola Estés,