Releasing Fear and Doubt as We Open to Soulful Living

Releasing Fear and Doubt as We Open to Soulful Living

25th Anniversary Issue   The very first time I heard an animal speak within my mind, a thrill ran through my body. I felt myself tingling—energy quickening, thoughts evaporating—in a strange, still moment out of time. There, on the other side of my window: a gathering of birds upon a bush. Window, bird, bush—it is not so much the surface thing that calls to us, but the deeper energy of life force, the deeper call of relationship. It is as if you finally realize that an invitation has been extended to you all along. And, one day, you accept. I felt the deeper presence of the birds open to me that day. And I to them. It was simple and surprisingly obvious: a coming together of worlds that had never truly been apart—a sudden clarity that we were not just woman and birds, but deeply connected beings. My body gave a little shiver as a too-long silenced self swooped up to consciousness. A part of me came home. It wasn’t until I thought about the experience that fear set in. My brain began objecting, raising doubts, worries, and all sorts of suspicions. My thoughts wanted to squelch down that initial feeling of communion, of heart-opening connection. Part of me wanted to make it unreal. But why? (Safer that way.) And who was in charge of thinking the worried thoughts? (Clever ego!) As time went on, I began to notice that one of my favorite ways to avoid opening—both to new ideas or deeper levels of understanding—was to stay busy on the surface. For many of us, it seems easier...
Snake Awakening

Snake Awakening

20th Anniversary Issue   It’s early evening, already well past dark in Alaska, only a few nights before the winter solstice.  I huddle beneath the down comforter on my bed. Although the bedroom door is closed, a thin beam of golden light slips inward from the hallway. I hear my husband and daughter laugh as they arrange holiday decorations in the living room. A pinched nerve in my lower back causes intermittent bursts of pain to surge up my spine. The discomfort is so intense that my stomach aches from bracing against the waves of nausea. Though the cycle is sporadic, it has been going on for hours and I’m exhausted. In between spasms, I seek refuge in a dreamy state of consciousness. For several minutes at a time all is calm and quiet, and in one particularly lucid moment I ask my body to reveal the core source of this physical discord. What do I need to know? I plead. What can I do? I am not truly expecting an answer, and yet it comes — lightning fast — in the form of a gigantic snake. So huge is the serpent that for a moment all I can see is its face, the rest of its body eclipsed by the immensity of its head. Its pupils are vertical slits, dark doorways surrounded by flecks of gold. Its body — I can see more of it now— is thick and glossy, the same ruddy orange color as its head and neck. A row of slim, downward-pointing triangles runs along the sides of its long body, each triangle ending in...
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