The Brambles of Life
Angels from demons
I like to think I live in two worlds, that of Spirit and of Life. Through my soul, in my later years, I am able to see things differently, approach things from a wider perspective, a changed woman. A woman who has struggled and learned and suffered for that learning. A woman who feels blessed and disappointed in equal measure.
But as I approach a new spiritual year, I feel as if I am living in an extra dimension, that of the past and the present. I have gotten better over the years at silencing my internal rage at past events and statements, those circular internal dialogues that kept slights and misunderstandings alive.
Those inner demons that circled for so many years that I believed I had either silenced, forgiven, or come to understand, now seem to be nibbling at the cells of my body. More physical than emotional, more memory than reality. Silenced, you might say, but lurking in the shadows.
Demons, rarely, if ever, are created by the situations themselves, but by a combination of history, self-doubt, and an unspoken, unrecognized, feeling of being alone in the world. A feeling of being untethered and separate from life itself as it plays out around you. An innate sense of freedom and loss that circles throughout life and feels both freeing and lonely in equal measure.
But, from my older perspective, those same demons now appear more like angels, companions who watched over me in the darkness, and lit paths through my despair and hopelessness. Gentle loves that waited as I circled through my inner brambles, so they could greet me and point to the galaxies.
Today, they stand beside me as I once again face the past. Silent sentinels that light the path which once would have pointed towards darkness, but to which I am no longer bringing my own.
Darkness whilst not entirely of my own making, that, strangely perhaps, has been the making of me, and for which I am now grateful. It unstintingly forced, even carried me, to accept that what I had come to believe about myself was untrue. That I was unworthy, I did not belong, and I had to prove myself.
Belong, you might ask, to what? The answers are both grand and meaningless; life itself, humanity perhaps. Humanity, how can anyone feel separate from humanity? That is plainly ridiculous.
And, of course, it is ridiculous, every single person has their place and their path, but over the eons, humanity has become increasingly subdivided, essentially as a reaction to fear, fear of others, fear of the unknown.
First to be subdivided was the landmass, then the people, then the minutiae of life and lifestyles, thoughts and ideas, all the building blocks of Creation itself. But what coheres to Creation is Love, and what defines mankind is the search for Love.
So, the belonging I am speaking of is Love, although that word barely does justice to that magnificent, mysterious, and intelligent energy.
In the eyes of mankind, it is further diminished by the widespread belief that it has to be earned, bargained for, and even, these days, bought.
It is almost inconceivable that it is freely given and infinite, that it bears within it light and dark and honors both.
That it is there for the taking, but cannot be grasped.
That it is so gentle that it cannot break and cannot be broken.
It is the riddle that all the technology in the world can never solve because it transcends all separation and time.
The irony of this complexity and this unsolvable riddle is that we all know it. Somewhere deep down beneath all the conditioning of life, our own history, and the history of humanity, it is the most recognizable emotion in our hearts.
We know it.
We may argue ourselves out of it, we may deny it, or see it in others and not ourselves.
We may have no vocabulary to describe it, but we know it and we instinctively seek it out when it is not reflected in our environment, especially at a very early age.
It is the root cause of our seeking and our salvation.
If we feel disappointment, then it is because we know something is missing, and if we feel blessed, then it is because we know we belong and that nobody, or anything, can take that from us.
Blessed are the brambles of life, for they are the scars that remind us that we found our way home.
© ZD Finn 2023
Finn runs a healing and meditation practice in London, publishes her own inspired journals, and offers mentoring to those seeking to strengthen their own soul connection. zdfinn.com
