He woke me up when he heard my screams.
I wept in thankfulness that it was only a dream, and I wept in sorrow for every person on the planet who doesn’t have someone shaking them awake and telling them this is all a bad dream.
Standing Rock atrocities, the fears of a nation who has yet to align to supporting their president, pedophiles and murderers being given a chance to live a normal life; justice doesn’t seem like justice at all and when it is, it’s just a socially acceptable form of revenge.
I sent love to the members of ISIS in hopes that they may feel it and reciprocate it onto the planet with a change of mind and action. I sent love everywhere and wept for the reality that not everyone will let it in.
Most of us are too tethered by our own lack of trust to open the valves that pump our hearts to a warm gust of genuine love entering its flow. Even love has become questionable and I’m no exception to being one who questions someone’s motives when they share their love with me. I thought it was a woman thing, but I’m realizing it’s a human condition kind of thing.
When I was a little girl I swore someone followed me every time I walked up my parents’ staircase to my room. I knew those stairs better going up backwards than I did forward because at night when it was dark I always watched my back by pressing my spine against the uneven wall where no one could get to me that I didn’t see coming.
I even used to say a little prayer which was “only those shining the light and love of God may enter my space.” No one taught me those words. They must’ve been imprinted on me from some higher realm at the age of four. I screamed it in my head whenever I felt that creepiness breathing down my neck. I felt “his” creep and I knew his breath better than my own. This fear was the thing I always had to watch out for and was the invisible terror lurking around every corner.
The world must be feeling the same sort of creepiness right about now. Many of us might find our beds to be our refuge rather than an extension of living life as a sanctuary on earth. They say home is where the heart is and I believe that.
The problem is my heart is with me wherever I go, and tonight I had a vision of my heart pouring itself out onto all the world. A world that feels the furthest thing from home in times like these.
I thought about this as I walked the streets of my neighborhood last night, feeling free, and unfazed by the frequent thoughts I have on most nights that around every corner, a psycho is waiting to jump out and grab me.
Then I had that creepy, up my spine feeling that I did when I was a little girl walking up my parents steps. This time, who the creep was became evident—she was my shadow.
I thought about the fact that I had trusted every punk kid on the street during my eery, fall stroll not to stab and kill me. I was fully aware that I could get away with murder too, and that I, myself could be perceived as one not to be trusted.
Then again, the same essence that gave me the prayers to say as a little girl when that creepy feeling came too close told me loud and clear, “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you will.” Will, meaning not just the act of harm as in following through, but also “will” as in the intent of being most aligned to Christ consciousness and the will of Creator.
Today I’m considering that the creeped out feeling has nothing to do with anyone at all, and everything to do with the only thing I’m sure to ever follow me in the dark of night—my own shadow.
There is a collective shadow being cast on our planet. When the dim light of the moon shone on me in the dark, what danced on the ground was only the negative space where my being blocked the light that was inviting me in. Instead of looking to the safety of the moon in gratitude, I feared my own shadow.
The people at Standing Rock have it right. They are holding their ground and looking to the sky. They aren’t (from what I can see) shadow boxing with the enemy. They are unifying our collective light in trust that it is more powerful than the shadow that is cast in the dark. They are trailblazing a path with their feet in the earth and head in the divine, praying hard as f*ck that the “enemy” follows their lead into the light.
It’s Thanksgiving today. A day I choose to celebrate in gratitude that I am part of an entire human family. Dave Chapelle said:
“Our culture has accepted two huge lies. The first is that if you disagree with someone’s lifestyle, you must fear or hate them. The second is that if you love someone, you agree with everything they believe say or do. Both are nonsense. You don’t have to compromise convictions to be compassionate.”
I pray today that we realize there is no “they.” “They” are not the enemy, “they” are a reflection of our own shadow. The more we try to eradicate what can never be eradicated in essence due to the dual nature of living on a planet as divine beings, the more fear we pour onto the planet from our hearts that only want to save it.
Happy Thanksgiving, family. May we raise our glasses in a toast to being a candle in the dark when it feels the safest to attempt to do away with the shadow we fear. It isn’t going away. It’s only an reminder that we are in human form which invites us to be reminded of our spiritual nature.
Just because we can shadow box, doesn’t mean we have to, nor does it mean it is divine will we do so. Let’s take a chance on looking to the light when we feel most dark.
“I cannot do all the good that the world needs. But the world needs all the good that I can do.” ~ Jana Stanfield
Author: Stacy Hoch
Editor: Travis May