I woke up this morning feeling heavy and sullen.

After a festive night out with loved ones, and a day spent inwardly and silently reflecting on the turbulence, challenges and blessings of this past year, sending farewells to old chapters and singing the song of unwritten pages, the weight came on quite unexpectedly.

I admit, a part of me welcomed it. I’ve been desperately waiting for the anxiety to wear off these past few weeks…alright, months. I’ve been awaiting the moment when I could unearth the feeling underneath the panicky, frenetic and buzzy mind state I normally exist in.

It’s never a quick process. My patience and force mentality has yet to learn this. And, it usually comes after some time of desperately trying to maintain outward composure and orchestrated perfection and control, whatever that means.

Still, it’s a feeling I haven’t allowed myself to embrace for some time. And, by some time, I mean too much time has passed in this present cycle of numbing, running and stuffing these feelings.

The tears came unexpectedly, still.

I was reading from Alana Fairchild’s Wild Kuan Yin oracle card deck. Then zing, there it was. The divinely inspired words instantaneously cracked the protective armor I wear, permeating into my oozy center and spilling tears onto the pages.

I continued to read as the tears fell. My heart was aching for comfort and reassurance. It was as if the words on the page were coming from the Divine Mother herself.

And, perhaps they were. In fact, I know they were. I feel the power of these words each time I pull a card.

The words struck the innocence and wounded-ness within me. This is the vulnerable part of me that’s been quietly waiting to be seen. And, at the same time playing cat and mouse.

The white mantra of Kuan Yin herself spilled across the pages.

“Om Mani Padme Hum: The Jewel is in the Heart of the Lotus.”

I have read this mantra before. I even made a note of it to myself in my phone months prior. Its words reflect the pure compassion, mercy and grace of Kuan Yin, a bodhisattva, or one who is dedicated to the freedom and happiness of all beings. She is just one of the many faces of the Divine Mother.

As I continued to read, my mind began to kick in.

I don’t know where the f*ck to go from here, I thought. It hurts. And stings. And bleeds.

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been able to cry. It’s a horrible, constipated and disconnected feeling not being able to feel.

I recognize my patterns that play into this: a vigorous exercise routine, a rigid diet and marijuana fog. It all makes for a perfect recipe of a detached and disconnected persona.

I’m afraid. I’m afraid to come into these vulnerable, oozy parts of myself. Today, I feel the truth of this.

I can put on the face so well. As good as anyone else. I can put on that makeup and fancy dress, lace it with a smile and feel on top of the world. All the meanwhile, my heart is just aching for love, attention, acceptance and belonging.

And after the “show,” the insecurity bubbles up, and the feelings underneath the facade surface.

I can’t say this lightness is inauthentic. In fact, I have felt more connected to this light within me to shine forth into social interactions and connections. And still, I feel the shadowy pull even more.

It’s like I still deeply want to deny its existence. And it knows I’m trying to push it away, despite my decorative attempts.

It’s all those little and big pains of the past that haunt me. They lurk in the shadows still. The rejections, the shame, the guilt, and embarrassment.

I’m afraid those parts will never leave me.

“May you be at peace,” the words on the page persistently echo.

To be at peace, wholly and completely.

Yes, peace.

My tears only want the space to be felt. And, the peace to be held—contained in safety and comfort.

Maybe that is my word for this year.

May I find peace in all circumstances, feelings, challenges and interactions.

I hope and pray that peace will find me this year. And, may I allow more space to open to its presence and receive the blessings in the moments when tears are welcomed friends.

May we all find more peace in this next year.

And, may we all start by giving more space for our feelings and allowing the peace to find us.

May we all find more peace in the pieces of ourselves, and all of the parts forgotten, neglected and abandoned.

May, this world know more peace for this fresh, new beginning.

Om shanti shanti shanti.

 

Author: Anna Palmer

Intro: Courtesy of author; Ales Motyl/Flickr

Editor: Nicole Cameron