The Medicine Wheel of Vicarious Beliefs

Spinning around and around, in a reflective environment. Crafted for the sight of the viewer, interested in the intent behind the maskless. Shame’s venom becomes the antidote of a faceless creation. The fake bursts of happiness. The same story told over, and over, and over again; begins to dissipate as we pass through the center of a wormhole, a dark void, a hall of broken mirrors. And all of sudden an impulse, a call, an urge to move in an intricate manner. The need to expel, to burst open in tears, flesh inside out. Body levitating and deeply grounded. No thoughts rising, holy breaths pleading.

Patterns are now a cycle, inherently opposite of each other. Patterns lay out a blueprint for what to look for. Cycles incite us to repeat with the impulse to move forward. Creating momentum. A dance between worlds. Dancing between the seen and unseen. The felt and the reasoned. The broken and the healed. A dance to inspire a shameless motion, to dance fully naked in front of the mirror. To see ourselves for the first time. To observe the scars left by the touch of the beast, without judgment. To feel the rage consuming us in silence so that we can sing to the bones of the dead. Watching rage mold its way through the hall of broken mirrors. Watching it become a spoken truth of what happened to us. Watching rage become our antidote as it molds itself into a fiery spark of creation. How does Rage prefer to express itself? Shame’s venom anticipates our reaction before it reaches our flesh. And as she stands straight, right before us, ready to strike and harmless at the same time, she lays its stings on the surface of the faceless, the pure, the innocent. And she vows. She vows to our presence, to the presence of the Keeper of the Light. Shame pays her respect and invites us to see her true essence, self-compassion.

My body speaks – “To watch yourself bleed. To watch yourself in pain and not leave. To feel the air escaping your lungs as you scream into a void, embracing your loss. To let yourself get lost in the antiquity of false thoughts, and not become one of them. To watch your flesh, turn inside out and feel the burning sun comforting you. To stay. To watch yourself twist out of pain strapped to a bed, chained to a house where death reigns. And not let go. To stay. To live through the bombing of hearts, the isolation of solace. The intrusiveness of judgement. To watch yourself transform with time. To let go of the idealist. To just be. To let yourself feel. To burn. To know what it feels like to walk amongst the living covered in ashes. Knowing that you were meant for more. Knowing that this is temporary even if it doesn’t feel like it. To watch yourself gracefully detach. Running to the depth of a numbing state. For now. Because this is temporary. And to begin again, every morning. Getting up again. Even if the floor shatters as you step out of bed. To wake up to the song of a wingless bird, because you both know what it feels like to want to fly away. And to love still. To love the cracks in the broken. Because you know where the cracks came from. To see others and see yourself. To breakdown in front of the mirror and watch yourself bleed again from the same wound. And to not leave. Because you stayed, you stayed and learned to love again. To love yourself and not feel shame. To love yourself, to see yourself and witness a raging soul start a creative fire. Now, my sweet thunder, it is in the presence of this ode that you must love and dance with fire.”

Shame will trap you and keep you in a cosmic cocoon playing on repeat all the abuse you endured. Reflecting it back to you in every single relationship that you decide to create. For as long as you need to. Therefore, you must learn to engage in a cyclical accord with the dead. For Rage needs to speak again. Not until you learn to break free and spin the Medicine Wheel, would Shame give you the antidote to live and die and live again. Not until then. Not until then.

To live in the present thus, is not to live in pain but in the light of self-compassion.