One year left of my 20's. What does this mean? Does it mean anything? Well sure it means that a decade is almost up. But it also means a decade will soon be starting again. A new chapter if you will. It is nice to think of this next year as the final chapter of my 20's. After all, life is but a book.
I would definitely say that the climax of the last 9 years was my travel through Europe. The pinnacle of my 20's if you please. Everything lead up to that adventure. It meant the world to me. It still does. I feel like the last chapter, everything since the climax, has been truly a descent. Not in a negative way though. While life has not been as exciting, it still has been extremely changing and necessary. It's like reaching the top of a mountain: it took 8 days to get up there but only 2 to get down. In order for me to reach the next mountain top I first have to come down of the last and descend into the valley.
In my post entitled "volcano" I spoke about a difficult time and how that time triggered a past hurt. I wrote about that event because I was again, going through an emotional week. I was trying to figure out why I was feeling so down and as I brainstormed I realized that it was exactly a year ago when I had that emotional break down in Sicily. It made me question the reasons for it even more so. What were the similarities and why was I going through it again?
I have been reading a lot this past year. Specifically, getting in tune with my spiritual side. I have been changing my diet and practicing yoga regularly These are things that raise your frequency and help to open your pineal gland also known as the third eye. A year ago, I had no use for chakras. This year, I think about them everyday. If I cannot sleep at night I meditate on specific colours and find calmness until I sleep. I have come to terms with how vivid my dreams are and to take special note to them. I am no longer ashamed to admit that this stuff, this so called wacky hippie shit, intrigues me.
I have always had a keen interest in human psychology. I am my number one patient. I have been aware of my coping mechanisms and how I deal with things since early childhood, even if I haven't always been able to control or change my behaviour at times. I am at least aware. With awareness comes understanding and accepting and then learning which brings change. So when I re-tell a story, it is my way of letting it go so that I can move on. The key to wellness is letting go of the past. Even if we look back on our past with fondness, we are still then comparing it to the now and trying to live up to a "better time". What I am still continually trying to remind myself is to stay in the present moment. To not anticipate the future and to not let the past hold me back. Life is about the PRESENT.
How can one let go of the past if they do not fully understand the lesson that it was meant to teach you? The best example I can give is myself. Last year as I was having a mental breakdown, I felt burdened by events of my past which only added to my pain. Even after writing it out and analyzing the parallels between all the circumstances I was still left feeling sad and unhappy. I was still sitting in my room trying to understand where this deep rooted sadness came from? I first recognized it when I was a child and it became more prominent in my teens. It then came back in my early twenties. It never went anywhere it merely remained dormant for a short while. Like a volcano.
Eventually I have to stop to get food. I need to sit and rest. I am pissing off the people who are celebrating and mourning by trying to push through the crowd with this enormous rucksack on my back. I find a little pizza joint. It is packed. I ask for a slice to go and I take it outside and sit next to a fountain in the square. I gobble that meal up and asses the situation. At this point, I do know in which direction my hostel is in but I have to figure out a way to get past a parade. After my rest, I get up and try and walk a few blocks over and then back inwards, hoping to get around the crowds. I find myself by a park and I see a dude with his motorcycle. I decide to ask him where I am. He looks like my friend Raff so I immediately feel comfortable. Bonus, he speaks English! He pulls out his phone we type in the address of my hostel and sure enough it is literally 1 minute away down the next street! I am thrilled! I skip away and see the hostel sign and could literally kiss the ground at this point.
“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” – St. Augustine
I would definitely say that the climax of the last 9 years was my travel through Europe. The pinnacle of my 20's if you please. Everything lead up to that adventure. It meant the world to me. It still does. I feel like the last chapter, everything since the climax, has been truly a descent. Not in a negative way though. While life has not been as exciting, it still has been extremely changing and necessary. It's like reaching the top of a mountain: it took 8 days to get up there but only 2 to get down. In order for me to reach the next mountain top I first have to come down of the last and descend into the valley.
In my post entitled "volcano" I spoke about a difficult time and how that time triggered a past hurt. I wrote about that event because I was again, going through an emotional week. I was trying to figure out why I was feeling so down and as I brainstormed I realized that it was exactly a year ago when I had that emotional break down in Sicily. It made me question the reasons for it even more so. What were the similarities and why was I going through it again?
I have been reading a lot this past year. Specifically, getting in tune with my spiritual side. I have been changing my diet and practicing yoga regularly These are things that raise your frequency and help to open your pineal gland also known as the third eye. A year ago, I had no use for chakras. This year, I think about them everyday. If I cannot sleep at night I meditate on specific colours and find calmness until I sleep. I have come to terms with how vivid my dreams are and to take special note to them. I am no longer ashamed to admit that this stuff, this so called wacky hippie shit, intrigues me.
I have always had a keen interest in human psychology. I am my number one patient. I have been aware of my coping mechanisms and how I deal with things since early childhood, even if I haven't always been able to control or change my behaviour at times. I am at least aware. With awareness comes understanding and accepting and then learning which brings change. So when I re-tell a story, it is my way of letting it go so that I can move on. The key to wellness is letting go of the past. Even if we look back on our past with fondness, we are still then comparing it to the now and trying to live up to a "better time". What I am still continually trying to remind myself is to stay in the present moment. To not anticipate the future and to not let the past hold me back. Life is about the PRESENT.
“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That's why we call it the present.”
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
How can one let go of the past if they do not fully understand the lesson that it was meant to teach you? The best example I can give is myself. Last year as I was having a mental breakdown, I felt burdened by events of my past which only added to my pain. Even after writing it out and analyzing the parallels between all the circumstances I was still left feeling sad and unhappy. I was still sitting in my room trying to understand where this deep rooted sadness came from? I first recognized it when I was a child and it became more prominent in my teens. It then came back in my early twenties. It never went anywhere it merely remained dormant for a short while. Like a volcano.
The other night I read a chapter in Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth Awakening to Your Life's Purpose about the "pain-body". A few weeks prior my little Earth Angel gave me a book about Earth Angel's which also spoke about this same subject. It all came very clear to me. To fully explain however, I feel like I need to also retell the story of my first week in Spain. After that emotional week in Sicily, I jumped on a plane and landed in Seville, Spain... so the story goes...
My first night in Spain was by far thee hardest travel day of my 3 months on the road. It was the first and only time that I actually got lost on my way to the hostel. I had the bus number written in my little red book that would drop me off at "Plaze del Duque". My plane arrived around 8pm. By the time I got to the appropriate bus stop the sun was down. I got on the right bus and just to make sure I asked the driver if this bus would indeed drop me of at "plaza del duke" (that is how I pronounced it). The bus driver did not understand me and was quite rude about it. I showed him the writing in my book in case I pronounced it wrong. He sighs, "oh plaza del duque" (pronounced doo-kay) and then once again rudely shook his head and tried to shun me off on my way. The passenger behind me chimed in and explained that because of the parades the bus would not be going that way. "Parades?" I said confusingly. I had no other directions so I smiled and tried to give him my money for the fare regardless and figured I could at least get close enough and walk the rest of the way. He would not accept my money, I had no choice but to get off the bus.
I got on the next bus and I had no clue where it was taking me. As the people on the bus started to filter out I started feeling panic set in. It was nearing 10 pm at this point and I was lost. A woman sitting close to me could sense my worry. She looked at me and in English asked me if I was lost. I sighed such a relief knowing I could at least communicate with her. I told her I was indeed lost. She said that I could come back with her to her apartment and she would lend me a map. I did not take her up on the offer though, in my head I was thinking I could just stay on the bus and hopefully it would just loop around and go back to where I had started and I could try again. The bus was nearing her stop and so she had to go. But before getting off she spoke to a young boy who was sitting next to her. She said he would help me and got off the bus. This young man could not speak english so he got out his phone and used it to interpret spanish into english. He showed me the screen and it said "Follow Me."
What was I to do? This guy can see that I am scared and lost. I am the perfect person to kidnap at the moment. Do I trust him? The bus comes to a stop and then suddenly a song comes over the speaker. There was no music playing until this exact moment. This was the song:
I decide that the song is a sign. I follow him. Through the phone he lets me know it's going to be a long walk. I nod and carry on. We are walking fast, there are many people on the streets. We are going down alleys and crossing streets, all the while I am thinking he could very well lead me into a dead end alley and kill me. But I trek on. He even asks people passing by for directions and ever so politely says "gracious" except this is the first time I hear the Spain pronunciation of thank you. It is pronounced "glathious". I honestly thought he was either gay or had a lisp. I later learned that I am an ignorant north american and now I actually pronounce gracious the way of the Spaniards because the language originates there however I digress...
We start making our way into a more central area. That is when my jaw drops. I see the KKK marching down the street. (The white capes and pointy hats originate in Spain, by the way, so the American racist group are not actually affiliated in fact they stole the look from priests.) I look at him and he sees my astonishment. As we try and make our way closer to the address in my little red book we are stopped by parades and crowds of people down every street. I thank him over and over again for bringing me this far and he carries on to probably meet his family or friends to celebrate. I learn the hard way that I just happened to land into Seville on the biggest celebration day in all of Spain. Seville celebrates Easter like no other place in the world. My timing for landing in that particular place at that exact time was crazy, bizarre, insane, and above all else, unforgettable.
In North America, we are so quick to forget what Easter is truly about. Jesus is the reason for the season. The Universe decided that I needed a reminder. So here I am in Seville, lost and confused, carrying my life on my shoulders. I am hungry. I am tired. I am heading down street after street only to be bombarded with crowds of people and the image of Jesus carrying his cross. In Spain, everyone gets an entire week off of work or school to take it to the streets and remember what Jesus went through about 2000 years ago. Every night there is a parade with intricate statues and intense marching bands circling the streets. They go on until the sun comes up, for a whole week. That Wednesday just happened to be the most important day and also the biggest parade day. I am carrying my back pack and he is carrying his cross. We keep running into each other around every corner, there is no escape.
It is now midnight as I check in. I could continue on with this story at this point but everything will just tie into the next day and the next and I will sit here all night re-telling my time in Spain!
I had a real reminder that week about the life of Jesus. I am not a religious person. I have said for a long time I feel that Jesus is just a dude like you or me and that by idolizing him we are pretty much making an excuse to not be as good as him. I feel that we could all be peaceful and loving and caring just like Jesus. He was hung on a cross for being just that, a peaceful and kind human being. Even worse still, wars and murder have gone on the last 2000 years in his name. People have used him to gain control over others. Most people who worship Jesus, do it so painfully wrong. How his message got flip turned upside down over the years is beyond my understanding.
What I have learned these last few weeks is that we all carry the pain from the beginning of our time in our DNA. It is embedded in us. Eckhart suggests in his book that it is why babies come out of the wound kicking and screaming. The most sensitive and loving people often become drug addicts and abusive because we are all dealing with centuries of pain, and it is still going on to this very day. Rape, murder, abuse, ridicule, judgement, the list goes on. One thing I have noticed the last few years, the older I get the more sensitive I get to the pain of others. I can't take it anymore. However, learning that we all have it inside us helps me to understand. Hopefully with understanding every single one of us can learn to let go of our pain-body's. Pain from the past lingers. It is in the air. You can feel it when you enter certain places where true evil could possibly have taken place in the past. We feel it around certain people who are holding grudges or are particularly angry often. The pain is often heavier in certain cultures and especially in woman. During the Spanish Inquisition, woman were accused of witchcraft and burned alive for merely walking barefoot in the grass.
The point now is to let go of not just our own personal past, our stories, but to also let go of what humans have done to each other since the beginning of time. Look to the present. Look to now. I refuse to accept that it is human nature to be so unkind to each other. It is time to change this. I am not perfect because I see the parallels I am still fighting that which is inside that wants to feed off of pain. I will keep trying to learn and change as I grow.
"Forgive the past. It is over. Learn from it and let go. People are constantly changing and growing. Do not cling to a limited, disconnected, negative image of a person in the past. See that person now. Your relationship is always alive and changing.”
— Brian L. Weiss, Messages from the Masters: Tapping Into the Power of Love
One Love
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