Here is today’s channeled message from Jan and Jeanne. Good luck as you take your journey today!
How do we establish our domain? How do we achieve dominion over our domain? I refer here to the domain of self, a room with four strong walls, the square of self.
We are beings of the circle, the infinite. We arrive at the gateway to this world through a triangle, the offspring of two, as two become three at our birth. From the circle of infinity we become finite. Born into a triangle, we are challenged next to carve out the four walls of our domain of self, as beings separate from the triangle of our birth.
If we are to fully mature into our four-walled self, we must all experience the disbanding of the original triangle. Freud spent his career focusing on the original triangle and its dominion over us. Only with the phallic power of the sword, male or female, are we afforded the clarity and power to cut through that triangle—with its myths of the nursery, the residual failures, broken promises, and legacy of expectations of those gods who bore us—and establish a new domain of self. Incredible clouds of sorrow hover over our lives as we experience the abandonment of and disconnect from those primal energies that conceived us, themselves tricked by the blissful myths of the garden or the raging energies of power and lust.
So powerful are the energies of the triangle that the ancient world literally used the sword to circumcise the self from the triangle and free it to new fraternity in the greater tribe. The sword of the modern world shines largely in the penetrating impact of awakening consciousness that can cut through the dated myths of attachment that cloud our true selves.
Sorrow is the underlying, overriding emotion that we must bear yet transmute. Sorrow pulls us backward into the deep abyss of what was or wasn’t, as we seek to forever hold onto that which once was, or finally find that which never was. Sorrow is an endless whirlpool that draws us deeper into a morass of bottomless emptiness. It may be necessary to traverse that journey, but beware, there is no bottom, and sorrow renews itself with equal potency at each visitation.
The transmutation of sorrow is the willingness to sit in the aloneness of the room of the four-walled self, to breathe, to feel the integrity of self without censoring thoughts or feelings, but indulging none as well. In this space of the four-walled room of the self we accept that we are participants in an unfathomable mystery. We accept that we have no control over the changes nor the inevitable losses and gains in our lives. We discover that we’re travelers with invitations to participate in this world, but never to stay.
Can we grant ourselves the dominion to show up and fully participate, knowing full well that it will all change and that our one true traveling companion is the self in the four-walled room?
Can we allow ourselves to release even that self when it’s time to once again journey in the circle of infinity? Can we step into that circle of infinity now, while we still ride the chariot of our four-wheeled self? Can we live in both worlds now? Freely? Ah, what will we see!
When sitting alone within the four-walled self, it’s beneficial to establish a reliable practice to support the sword-cutting process of separation, individuation, and exploration. As we face our four-walled self what sharper technique is there than meditation to cut through the sorrows that are sure to plague us?
Here is a link to a simple and direct meditation practice, offering first steps, as well as deepening techniques dedicated to the process of sitting within the four-walled self: Son Meditation. I encourage you to give it a try as you seek to establish your domain of self.
From within my domain,
We are out of danger. The “Storm of the Century” is heading out to sea. We are not being impacted this time. Last night I dreamed that it would become windy today—it is—but that the storm would turn back toward land and we would bear the full brunt of it tomorrow. I have to look at this dream in the context of reality.
It looks fairly unlikely that the storm will turn back to land, but today’s winds rattle the house every now and then, each gust asking me to ponder what it all means on a deeper level. Rattling inside my own head is the truth of my being here in this country. My ancestors came here, like just about everyone else’s, seeking freedom of some sort. In that seeking of freedom, whether it was sparked by oppression or famine or the desire for adventure and new life, lives an indefatigable energy. It drives us still. I must accept that the energy that came here in my ancestors lives on in me still, and I must accept what it once did if I am to turn it in a new direction and use it for the greater good. If I am to truly live as a balanced spiritual being, I must constantly confront the darkness within myself, ancient or otherwise.
We came into this country like the wind. And like the wind we blew through it, ravaging, destroying and taking, with little regard for the traditions and cultures of centuries, with little regard for the sacred earth and the animals that roamed it. When the buffalo were gone, the Native Americans knew they would have to go inward; they would have to sit and wait for the buffalo to return. They would have to protect and hold the spirit of their people inwardly until it was time for that spirit to reemerge and roam the plains once again. They have waited a long time.
Now the ancient traditions are coming back and we, the invaders who destroyed the buffalo—as well as the other sacred animals of the tribes—all want a part of it. We see the animals returning, the spirit of the land revitalized, and we want it too. How ironic is it that we turn to the learned men and women of the ancient tribes to teach us now, the same people we once found heathen and uneducated, the same people we caused such destruction to. We want to learn the secrets from the shamans: how to connect with spirit, how to do a soul retrieval, how to find our path of heart. They oblige us, but the real secret is in doing what they did. We must hold our own spirits in check and wait. Even as we turn to the shamans, asking them to lead us out of our discomfort, we must sit still within our own discomfort if we are to truly be free.
We have turned outward in all directions seeking the knowledge that we know exists out there somewhere. We’ve turned to the yogis of India, to the Zen masters of Japan, to the Buddhists of Tibet, and yet if we sit still we will discover that we have what we need inside us. If we sit still and wait, just like they do, our own spirit will return and guide us on our journey to the freedom we seek, and have always sought.
The ancient shamanic practice of recapitulation asks us to do this, to sit still and bear the tension of what comes to us from our deepest inner selves. That’s really all it is, taking on the process of sitting still and waiting, and then withstanding what comes. It asks us to become the shaman waiting for the return of the buffalo. It asks us to sit under the bodhi tree like the Buddha and withstand the desires of the world outside of us so that we may meet the real spirit inside. It asks us to turn inward and meditate if we are to experience nirvana and enlightenment, the blissful states of non-attachment. We must sit still and work through all that keeps us from attaining these energetic states of consciousness. If we are to truly understand our adventures in non-ordinary reality, we must prepare ourselves to withstand the deeper truths they bring to us. If we are to experience the transpersonal in any real and lasting way—if we want to change the world—we must first change ourselves.
The ancients, the practitioners of sitting still, are trying to teach us that it really is time to sit still, to let the wind blow outside of us without attachment. If it destroys something then we must accept its power, yet we must also accept what we too have destroyed by our own power. We must let the wind enter into us if we are to transform ourselves. In sitting still we let the apocalypse come. We withstand the destruction of all that we think we are, as we take our own shamanic journey to retrieve our own soul. This is what recapitulation is. This is what freedom is.
Recapitulation comes stealthily, creeping up on us like a cat, or it comes like a storm, blowing us over with its ferocity so that we are knocked breathless and bleeding. Either way, it asks us to accept that we have in us the freedom-seeking energy of our ancestors. It asks us to face what we have done in the past. It asks us to face what was done to us as well, just as the ancients did, by turning inward and sitting still. In time, the truth will be revealed. If we are to evolve, our best strategy is to sit still, within our own bodies and minds, and bear the truth of who we are.
Our freedom will come. In sitting still, our own spirits will return just as they are returning to the Native tribes.
Sitting in the wind,
An eager workshop attendee once asked the Nagual, Carlos Castaneda, “Should we recapitulate what’s happening right now?” Carlos hesitated, then said softly, “Not yet,” with no further explanation. I knew in that moment that Carlos was saying that the luster of the myth we were all participating in would fade once recapitulated. He wanted us to enjoy the energy we were in for just a while longer. Isn’t that what we all seek when we fall in love, to enjoy the energy of it just a little while longer?
The truth is that once we have sat upon the immovable spot, as we sit beneath the Bodhi tree of our recapitulation, the energy and allure of the old illusions are released from our newly enlightened selves. We are freed from the terror, longing, and both negative and positive beliefs of old energetic attachments. We are able to walk out of the myths that once governed our lives into whole new worlds of possibility, real worlds of possibility.
Carl Jung recognized that all lives embody a core myth. If we look around to the cast of characters we were born into and the formative events of our lives, we can begin to identify the myth we were born into. Perhaps it’s our karmic challenge to solve a problem that has held us in check for eons. How could it be possible to be freed to new life if we have not cracked the nut of an old problem—our mythical nemesis? There is no escape from an unsolved problem; we continue to meet it everywhere. If we are convinced that we are unlovable, no amount of attention will convince us otherwise. If we are to be loved, we must first free ourselves of our attachment to the myth of the ugly duckling.
This requires recapitulation. We must be able to be present to all the truths to free ourselves from the myth we have been captivated by. Those truths might include that the mythic giants who conceived of us in this life were, indeed, quite flawed mortals without a clue. We’re all equals now, outside the myth of familial promise in the nursery; equal beings who are going to die; equal beings trying to crack the mystery of our myths, seeking new—real—adult life.
The violent, unrefined destructive energies of new life are boiling beneath the surface of spring. Birth is an aggressive, violent process—let’s bust any romantic myth to the contrary right now. The energies of earth quake beneath the surface, the intensities of storm surround us. Right now, at spring’s awakening, we all sit upon the immovable spot.
If there is to be new life, the rigid ground of myths that no longer channel life must be cracked. New life promises Abundance, the 3 of Cups, the first Tarot card that I pulled on the first day of spring as I contemplated writing this blog. However, the rigid structures, the myths we have clung to, must be sacrificed, the Hanged Man, the second card I pulled. We must allow our ego attachments, the myths we cling to, to be busted by the living waters rushing beneath the surface. Like a crucified being, we must sit upon the immovable spot of recapitulation that will allow the truths to set us free to new life. To achieve this we must allow for clear and truthful communication, The Magus, the third card I pulled, the winged messenger of Mercury, to deliver the truth clearly, to allow the Rites of Spring to be performed, busting through the old myths, bringing new life in abundance.