My eyes were bright this morning. Something more energizing than coffee was doing its work and I felt fully present in the circle. I refused to give in to the fatigue that nips constantly at my heels. These chances to be a sovereign being, responsible for myself alone, supporting this group as a peer and a student are rarest gems to me and I wasn’t going to squander a moment. Finally, at the end of this day, however, the sleepiness drags at my eyes and my fingers and I cannot begin to do the experience any justice.
This healing work we do at the Sacred Center Mystery School defies story. It is designed to lift us out of the typical elements of the human condition - even the addiction to story that is a hallmark of our humanity.
As a storyteller, I have struggled with this paradox. Am I peddling narrative crack at my day job and then skipping off to healing school like a sweet little hypocrite trying to leave her stories behind?
In class, we strive to see and touch a dimension that’s beyond individual drama. We seek to fly above and dive below the swell of emotion that drowns out the voices of the divine and the beacons of greater Truth.
And yet, we gather in this counsel of advancing souls as beautifully imperfect people. We’re not trying to shed our humanness. Instead, we ask it to resonate through us, from cells to spirit. When we embrace who we are we’re free enough to evolve.
In such a space, we come together to own our stories, not to be owned by them. In such a place, there’s ample room for stories that empower and there’s all the time in the world to tell the stories that connect us all together.