To See With Your Eyes Closed

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I didn’t expect the last-birthday-in-my-twenties thing to hit me like it has. It’s such a cliché. I thought these little pre-thirty freak-outs were for other people. My ego thought I’d be spared because hey look at all the things I’ve done. It didn’t believe I’d actually have to face up to the what-am-I-doing question. Again. I’ve been asking this question since I was four. I’ve learnt there are better questions to ask.

Luckily Saturn and her grand return can explain all this. I like getting answers from the sky. The stars have been around since this whole thing started. There is good reason to trust them. Saturn is again in Sagittarius. Pretty soon Saturn will return for the very first time to the exact place where she was the moment I was born.

This is a big deal. There are so many love songs about this sort of thing, when planets align and stars shoot across the sky. The whole universe is just poetry born from a star. I am reminded again, clichés are cliché for a reason.

I’ve been hearing Saturn lately, she whispers and it sounds like my own voice and I am tempted to cover my ears because sometimes we’re not ready to hear what we already know. She tells me I posses the deep underlying knowing that I am on my path and I am okay and everything is okay. I should be able to relax into that, maybe fall asleep without chamomile tea and a room of complete darkness.

I’m getting better. I fell asleep in the car the other night. We were driving back from a festival where we saw Nahko and Medicine For The People. It was the clearest night, as if the stars were having their own show. At the end of his show Nahko sang one of his new songs. His music created a stillness I’ve never before felt in a crowd of bodies. A unity of awe. He sang about lighting sage and writing poetry and the elements, and right at the end the lightest drops of rain touched our faces. Another answer from the sky. It was one of those moments where there were no questions. Everything is the answer. Everything is art and art is everything.

In a reading recently I was told I had a lot of energy still lingering in age twenty-four. When I was twenty-four I spent the year traveling through South East Asia, India and Nepal. It was a year of backpacking and journal writing and buses and trains and planes and temples and ashrams and books and volunteering and elephants and long skirts and connections and late nights and long days and prayers and yoga and chai and loneliness and hope and nag champa and meditation and humility and spiritual teachings and dirty feet.

I was my favorite self. Sometimes I miss her. Sometimes I feel myself grieving for twenty-four-year-old me, that girl with no plans and no idea but all the desire in the world to make up for it. While we have gone in different directions, she still lives inside of me and I am continually reminded I must find ways to honor her every day.

The year I was twenty-four was also the year the worst thing I could ever conceive of happening to me actually happened. There was once this thing going around the Internet that claimed every seven or ten years we replace all the cells in our body. It turns out this it not true. The truth is, all we can do is keep healing and healing and healing.

This year has been a big year. I say that about every year. I never feel like the years go fast, sometimes in hindsight, but while I’m in it, I’m in it. I’ve learnt so many things this year and it makes me wonder how I got along in the world for all the years before this one. I’m tired. My body is still catching up to what my soul knows. My mind is learning a different way to be and beginning to team up with my intuition. My inner artist child is thriving. My brain is doing her very best to process all this. The aching in my right wrist isn’t always so bad. I’ve been stretching more. There are a lot of factors at play.

I’m learning to read clairvoyantly. It’s kind of like smelling or tasting or hearing or seeing or touching. It’s kind of like all of them put together and kind of like none of them. It’s completely its own thing to see with your eyes closed.

A really important question came up recently. It’s something I’ve been carrying around for a while now and haven’t been able to put anywhere. I was asked if I’m able to be grateful for my life and be happy in it while still allowing room for some sadness about my life.

I did a past life regression therapy. It was a wild experience, to be on this plane and also somewhere else where my soul had been before. To have gone through something that transcends time and becomes home again. I was given a chance to be the artist of another lifetime. I rewrote the story. I’ve never read a story like this, it made me believe that time is no more complex than one heart beating.

Like most things, now that it’s here it’s okay. I started writing this a few days ago and it wasn’t like this. We can never tell how we’re going to feel. It’s my birthday tomorrow and I really do love birthdays. I love festivities and cakes with candles and nostalgia and markings in time. I requested off at work because being born is a good enough reason for anything. I also think being born may not be so different from dying, it can be a terrifying thought, but it’s always okay when it’s no longer a thought. It just is.

Maybe we have two hands so we can always hold both sides of every story. Here is my gratitude and here is my pain. And here I am in the middle, holding all of it.