Bent Bones Winter
“I want my work to be about healing.” Bell Hook
Dear Fellow Traveler,
These bones are heavy. My shoulders are bent from worry, fear, and uncertainty. I remind myself it is okay to rest. I say to you, “Rest.” Lay down and go to your dwelling place. Nourish your heart and pause the mind. Visit the temple of memory, going to the rooms where joy, pleasure, and all the things that bring a smile to your lips and heart are gathered and waiting. Perhaps we can permit ourselves to ease into this holiday season, trimming off excess so we can be more present. Finding a touchstone that rekindles the fire of your soul is necessary. Be intentional in gifting yourself respite, soothing, laughter, and love.
If I may give a word of caution, don’t ghost yourself. It will be easy to use the distractions that come with this time of year to put down and abandon the calling. Not this time. Rest but stay committed. Recommit, if that is where this letter is finding you, in a place of seemingly hopeless frustration. Use this time of rest to recommit. You are not alone. Let me say it again, you are not in this alone.
I have been on a pilgrimage for many years, wandering the landscape of my soul and navigating the rough terrain, trying to find meaning in this human experience. When I turn down the noise and distractions, finding peace in the bosom of the one who is the giver and caretaker of life, I hear Her. I feel Her. I’ve returned to the grave, giving myself over to be reshaped and renewed. I have yet to emerge fully but, like the beginning phase of labor, I feel a vibration within, a calling to come forward. It is an intertwining of rebirthing and returning. I am discovering an embodiment of a trinity, the remembrance of Maiden and Mother to stand before you as Crone.
Being a death worker is more than caring for the dying. It is a midwife of transformation—not only the transformation of the shedding of the body to spirit but of all the death and birth cycles we go through in this experience called life. It is the calling forth of transformative flow. A death worker is a way-shower, shining light into the darkness to reveal a new realm.
We are each on our journey. It is personal yet collective. Being here together in this time and place is not by accident. There is a purpose, a reason Soul donned the skin you’re in with all your traits and nuances to travel through this here and now. It is revealed in your healing. There is a light within you. A light that shines brighter than the sun. It may be hard to see because it is dimmed by the debris of human living, by the opinions, influences, and conditioning of your environment and those in it. We can walk around dimmed, following the easier path of least resistance. The same-same, the way it has always been. The ‘what’s the use, it’s just the way it is’ way. Or we can prepare to roll up our sleeves and begin the work of unlearning and clearing so our light can shine so bright we become the city on a hill, experiencing heaven here on earth.
Healing work isn’t easy. It is not for the faint of heart. We begin by accepting that we will not witness an end. Life is a circle, beads of light between two beads of the dark unknown, our beginning and end to return to the beginning again: a beautiful tapestry of mystery. Contrary to our conditioning, this cannot be a goal-oriented, results-driven fix. Nor can we indulge in the numbing of our senses, so we feel safe as we swim in oblivion. Being human is incredibly uncomfortable but we must learn to sit in the discomfort, to move in and around the muck and mire. We trust our healing is reshaping the imprints branded on our souls, to create a new. There will be moments of celebration and rest, but then we get back to it. We understand this healing is not only for us. It is not only for who we once were and who we will become. We do this for the children and the children’s children, and the children’s children’s children. We cannot give in to the enticement of leaving it behind.
I invite you to silence the noise and minimize distractions. Join me as I follow Mother Nature’s lead this season. As we look upon the barren trees, let’s retire and go within. Sit in hibernation by the fire of the soul. Stretch out our tired bodies, our limbs extending and gathering the kindling of hope. Wrap yourself in its warmth and be still. In the sanctuary of stillness, you will hear the drumming of your heart, the calling of the Great Unseen. Don’t rush it. Go deeper still. Find the temple of memory and visit for a while. Our ancestors are waiting to reveal to us ancient truths.