The Muse in the Dark

I knew my menopause would ‘happen’ as I turned 50. I knew it because that is when it happened to my mother. She told me this and informed me that we usually follow the timing of our mothers on such things. I began my menstrual cycle at the same time as her also, she told me this would happen too. I was 13, so was she. So in my 50th year I stopped having my monthly menstruation and marked its occasion with a very large collage, hanging it on the wall to ever remind me of where I was in my existence.


Now dusty and losing the odd image as glue becomes unstuck, it included my blood, my last bleeding and many images of my female lineage of ancestors. It also included images of witches and healers, pictures of wolves, earth, rock, raging skin including orange peel and bark from the trees, crumpled red tissue paper among broken glass, the skull of a dead bird and its bones and then words amongst many words… “now is the time to leap,” poetry I had written that year from a darkened place, meeting the archetype of whom I was becoming.

My dark angel sits in the children’s grove,

My heartbeats and the waters of the river flow from my eyes,

My promise to her is to take her essence fully into the world,

My claws and my new found wings,

Jumping off their pedestal into the dark night,

Now is the time to leap!


Things started to change quite rapidly. My mother said she didn’t feel any change at all, nothing seemed to happen to her that she noticed. But I wondered if that was because she was a women slightly out of touch with her body, emotions and feelings. Well she never spoke of any of those things and had an uncanny way of shutting down, sulking or disowning anything that might have resembled ‘heat.’
For me I was pretty determined to ‘experience’ my menopause. I wanted to know what hot flushes, flashes and sweats were all about, what all the many emotions I had heard about actually did to us. Did we really become quite mad and hysterical? I did notice a sense of crazy, unadulterated, mad woman desperately wanting to emerge and yet doing my best to hone her, direct her energy and channel into something beautifully creative, which became my task.

Six years after my last bleed I still experienced those flashes in all manner of guises, I still needed to get some of those skills under my belt and I still needed to fill as much of my time with creativity as I possibly could. Failing at times and noticing the uncomfortableness when I didn’t resource myself with making something, anything that resembled art, poetry, writing or a dance, frantically piecing things together to make them look moderately like a sculpture, or an attractive (unattractive) display of nature.

In the first year I noticed that everything around me seemed to be falling apart, quite literally and was clearly a time when I had to say ‘enough is enough and I must just give up and let go and immerse myself into this darkened time.’ Many women will say ‘this is your time, a time to focus inwardly, be by yourself and be with the process.’ So try telling that to a mother of six children, a Grandmother, a wife, a lover of community and her work and see how well that sits!

It made the rage even greater and the madwomen for sure would become very frustrated, I created amazing pieces of work/creativity/maps to share with others, and was totally engrossed in that creative energy, my dance and the power that it gave to me.

But totally alone? I don’t think so.

I’m not a sit in ones cave and meditate kinda girl, but inward I did go, no matter what or who was around me, into that darkened place that only an aspiring crone can really go, because it gets darker and uglier the further she goes!

I had enjoyed my ‘periods’ and now missed my bleeding’s, feeding my plants with their regular fertiliser, having that monthly reminder of my femininity, observing its relationship with the moon and how well it seemed to connect to the seasons. I was lucky, those bleeding’s were never too bad, painful, hefty! I was very aware of how other women might suffer.

I experienced ‘the cramps’ for awhile after the bleeding stopped and they reminded me to keep on moving and dance them away as a new dance set in.

The changes to the rest of the body were a shock, as the skin wrinkled, (that was represented as orange peel and tree bark in my collage,) muscles are not the same, bones and joints ache and one is continually suggested to, to take this herb and that supplement that are all different depending on the woman and her experience. So much advice and suggestions can drive you a little bonkers and you simply want to just get on with it and stop fussing, because the mad woman is actually enjoying the challenge and even in her discomfort, even if the belly at times is so bloated she cant help but just feel fat, she knows this is such a valuable time and doesn’t actually want to make it easier, because this is part of the process, to feel it, to breath it, to be creative with it, and without the agony of body changing she would miss out on such an experience. Yes that belly knows it is a time for new birth, emerging as the new SHE, the agony of that emergence.

Well, its not exactly agony, that might be a bit dramatic, its more a fierceness, a hot rage that surges through the body making it so uncomfortable and itchy, yes itchy, that you want to rub yourself raw with the heat and then that inspires some crazy painting or a poem or words for the next book that seep through the raging skin and there you have something utterly beautifully creative, you need that heat again to bring on the next surge of passion and creative juice!

Twelve years has passed.  The creative fire is strong.

Who do we become at this time? Letting go of what has been before and accepting this new way, this new soul of womanhood. Only the one who experiences can know. It is different for us all. No couple of years can give us that knowledge, no ‘one’ experience, no other woman’s experience, but our own, our own souls calling into the creative spirit that we are. At this time our true medicine, our power, our artistry will shine through to its fullest, the words we speak, the art we create, the poems, the carefully designed cloth and tapestries and no one, but no one can tell us it should be any other way, but the way we have created it, through all that past experience coming to fruition, the life of our feminine spirit, ready to take her place in the world, to meet her own power source and allow it to nourish the very bones of our feminine lineage, that the daughters and sisters will find a way to follow.

I lay there on that big rock, two days, two nights, cradled in its arms,

relaxed as the sun shone down on my face,

my body, contemplating the meaning of my existence.

I told the rock about my life and all that it involved as I saw it,  

I'm Charlie_0088

I sang my song for it to hear.

Drifting into the trance of comfort and belonging

I nestle under the sky above me,

looking into the heart of the universe.

What is my name I heard myself ask..ShamanKa-Mama was its reply.

Caroline Carey 

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One step at a time (Voice)


Is it a voice?
A passage of words, a diary of keepsakes?
Is it designed to be a different kind of voice,
because it will be heard in a different way?
I guess that’s what I hope for as the stream of energy flows through me and onto every page.
Sometimes I imagine those faces looking at me,
observing the inner dance going on and finding ways to absorb the information.
A channel of light, I like to think.
And I know some of it will meet with resistance and even criticism;
do I care?
What business is it of mine anyway?
But do I care?
Of course I do, could I be anything else but
human on this journey.
I know it is all good teaching though,
I remind myself that it all helps me find ways to improve what I do.
My school teachers would be quite proud of me
– I kid myself;
but there may be some truth in that.
The school report regularly updated
“Caroline could do better”

More effort was needed,
I’ll give them that – well effort  was made in doing things
the only way I knew how to.
But effort for efforts sake, is maybe not the best reason for doing anything.

My mother would not be happy, I am sure.
I imagine her wondering why I didn’t just write a nice story, as I did as a child.
And I would remind her that ‘I am a story and life IS a story and we all live in that play called living.’
Some of us a little closer to the edge of course.
My edge is a precipice close to the sea, where sometimes different beings are buried or lie sleeping.
Yes, that was my dream last night – a recurring dream,
but sometimes the graves are deeper and I have to work a little harder to uncover the sleeping being who lies there.

The dream ties in with the feeling of needing to hold back – as I walk through my life, this story; I begin to feel that pressure of stepping forward as if there is a shroud of energy, making the atmosphere around me heavy and difficult to pass through.
Still, one step at a time, as the aching in my bones and joints yell out, one breath at a time as tiredness try’s to close my eyes to it all,
I know I can bring myself to the other side and move beyond its enforcing control.
One step at a time!

The emotion of course may wish to show itself and that is part of the dance,
the fear and resistance
can have their say,
but cannot be an excuse for stopping dead in those tracks.
Many times I would call to this fear
to lessen its hold on me.
It replies with its usual voice
” but I am one of your very best friends, with out me there would be no journey to explore, nothing to learn from, nothing to move beyond!”
I agree reluctantly and thank my friend called Fear, for reminding me of this and having the good grace to speak out, rather than simply be an observer from the back ground and corners of darkened rooms.
Those areas that I call my ‘shadow’ that will always be some where not so very far away.

Of course in the midst of this my strong and trusty ego flatters herself that she can take charge in those more vulnerable moments and do the work necessary in the world and of course she is right.
She loves that more soulful part of my psyche, the one that every now and again needs time to play in the shadows and drink from the deep pools of forgotten lakes.

But my ego knows that without the delivery of ‘her’ work, all would remain floating on the surface of some obscure little drama pretending that ‘nothing really mattered’, all was as it was meant to be, provided no risks were taken and certainly any kind of ambition would be put firmly to bed.
This she cannot allow to happen!

So as I stir up all these ingredients that are my own stage of heart, body and a rather contemporary mind of more or less than normal function (depending on ones social class or opinion on these matters) it becomes very clear to me that I might just as well get on with it and rather than worry or drop into the possibility of feeling any level of shame – which of course if one starts to  be concerned about what others think then the only emotion to explore IS shame –

I know it is better to make and leave my mark,
leaving something behind after my death than just pretend that I feel nothing at all, even though all the time my own little dance knows better.

And that dance, though moving through its own heaviness now and again
certainly gives this kind of voice a great topic to channel its information from
and without it, maybe not that much would really be brought to life and offered
as a different kind of poetry
for a similar kind of mind as my own.

For sure the rumblings that emerge in these writings
do often come from an un-still mind and the wanderings of a lonely heart,
for this is the way of many melancholic minds
who  awaken quite frequently out of some of the deepest sadnesses
and moments of grief,
into the astoundingly beautiful life we live and simply wonder
how the human race became so unbelievably ridiculous,
themselves included,
they retreat once more into the depths of the heart and soul to gather up the medicine ways of the mind,
the poetry and the dances that is an outlet for those same hidden depths,
seeking the truth of our own existence.

From ~ ‘The Circle, The Fire & The Phoenix’

written by Caroline Carey

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my cultures wounds

middle-earth-image-owlShamanism is about healing our own cultures wounds – and when I look at the dysfunctions around me I get a glimpse of why I follow this path. I’m not sure that shamanism is always the right description for me, I lean towards the Druids, the Celts, the Witches and their craft, the medicine people of this land and every land has its own descriptions alongside its traditional medicine ways, so `I feel that I ‘fit’ more readily with these paths.
When I see my cultures wounds – the addictions, the alcoholism, the sexual wounds, the dysfunctions and societys labels of shame and guilt – the mental instability and lack of self worth, I am drawn to listen, to learn and to play my part.
I am from these shores, this land and I cannot pretend to be from any other. This is my language and my birth place and I want to do what is right for the here and now.
I might learn much form other cultures, but it must adapt and fit into this language, this way of being and I cannot force any other creed or medicine onto it.
When we shine a light on our deepest wounds – we have the opportunity to heal our own hurts without needing to credit a world that we do not fully understand.
This soil, this ground, these rocks and crevices, the trees and flowers are our medicine and the holders of wisdom that is connected to the cellular structure of our wild and free nature.
Returning to that particular dance inside us, frees the blood and the bones of a made-up-structure that does not fit with the indigenous people we are. We can dance ourselves free of what has been forced upon us – we can release the pressure of ‘having to be.’ We can re-member the turning point where we somehow went wrong and turn once more to face the truth and focus on a path that is in service to Good.

Caroline Carey

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Its an interesting word, it means almond in Italian. I sometimes think I’d like to find a different word for it.

The ancient symbol with its profound meaning, was always called the Vesicus Piscis. And that means fishes bladder…even stranger!  So in my work I just think of that place in the middle. The place where polarities meet, where we stand in the tension between opposites and life happens, vibration happens and we feel probably more deeply than at any other time in our lives!

Being a middle child I always knew a little of this place, being born on the solstice also, a place between dark and light. Born in the Midlands was another dimension to it and from those moments many other places from the middle territory, or landscape began to emerge I realized. I became fascinated with this world, which I began to call ‘Middle Earth Medicine Ways.’ I visited Tolkiens home once, a huge Unicorn stood in the garden and a black cat statuette sat on the roof and all manner of strange things lay around. Tolkiens middle earth wasnt my middle earth but we seemed to relate to much of the same magic!

But back to the dance of the Mandorla territory – we are stretched beyond our normal existence and yet, it is part of who we are, the magic of all we can become when we are brave enough to BE that opposing force within us. It exists and we cannot escape it. I have discovered it time and time again, struggled with it, resisted it and pushed it aside. But it always comes back, either biting my ass or seducing me into its lull of familiarity. For it is the essence of who I am and I cannot fight it.

Sound in any way familiar to you or completely alien? Well I feel absolutely sure that we have all felt the pain and profundity of the ‘power of polarities’ within us at some point in our lives. And when we do, how do we react to it?
I learnt  a particular dance, what I would now call medicine, but also a dance of acceptance, the true essence of our soul, the power and the humility that bares us to the bone….that tears our heart to shreds yet re-boots it to a greater strength.

Dancing with the Mandorla is a stance for freedom, for the warrior within us to awaken and be deeply, in no doubt, about our truth. It might shake us as we dance in its wave, it may frighten us when we shed these old skins that enforce a structure too old to be taken seriously any more. And it might shine the greatest light from our core, into the world where there is no escape, but to be seen.

Taking the Mandorla into our journey, into our heart, creating a totally new awareness of who we are, is a brave step to take. It’s a creative one too, for I believe we cannot grow without creativity, its our birth right, no matter who we are, for we are creative beings after all.

If you are called to dance with the Mandorla’s energy and discover your absolute potential from the deepest part of your inner being, come and dance with us.
This is the very first time I am offering the Magic Of Mandorla in the UK, so it is extra special for me. Maybe for you too?

“Sometimes within our individual self and within the self of our worn-out society, there is no answer to conflict. There is, however, a way to stand within the center of the opposing forces. Conflict creates tremendous energy. If we leave out judgement then that ‘energy’ can become a vibration of light. Not always just a single light but many lights, sending out a vibration that is LOVE!” 

Caroline Carey

Here are the details of the our gathering next month:

This work is open to all adults, regardless of gender, age, experience or ability. Whether you want to work with deep-rooted issues, or simply discover new insights, whether you are training in therapeutic studies, or a student of life’s experiences, this work has something to offer you.

17 – 19th February 2017      Friday 7pm – 9.30pm, Saturday 10am – 6pm, Sunday 10am – 5pm
Contact Mags Bradley
Early bird price: £135 paid by 18th Jan. £150  thereafter. Deposit 50%.
Venue:  GuildCare, Methold House, North Street, Worthing,
West Sussex, BN11 1DU

West Sussex website

During this workshop, we will use the tools of dance, creativity, movement meditation and constellation-work to work with the magic of the mandorla. You will have the opportunity to explore some of the conflicts in your life, looking at how they play out in your life and how they affect you by embodying them in the dance. Then, with the support of the group and a constellation process held and guided by Caroline and the drum beat, you will enter the space of the mandorla, allowing it to work its magic upon you, bringing the riches of wisdom and new insights.

As human beings, we can exist on multiple planes of being; the one that we are usually most aware of, however, is the material world. By its nature, the material world is a place of duality – a place of opposites that we often experience as being in conflict with one another. Examples include heaven and earth, light and dark, masculine and feminine, loyalty and betrayal, to name but a few. The polarity between these opposites creates a fundamental tension at an evolutionary level that has the potential to be either profoundly destructive or powerfully generative and creative. The evidence of the destructive consequences of this tension lies all around us in the terrible scourges of war, inequality and conflict within and between individuals, groups and societies.

The key to transforming the destructive consequences of conflict into life-affirming outcomes lies in how we relate to the tension between opposites. When we can hold the tension within ourselves, bearing the pain, beauty and terror that this brings, we bring the two opposing elements together, creating a space in which the split between the two can be resolved. We call this space the ‘mandorla’ – a word derived from ‘almond’ in Italian, which refers to the almond shape created when two circles overlap. The mandorla also known as the ‘Vesica Piscis’ is the sacred space of our soul work; when we stand in this place, we have the ability to transform what once was a curse into powerful medicine for the soul. Its energy is that of the Father Mother Principle in the Divine Union, the Mother of all Forms and the Yin and Yang that has been known to us for decades.


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A wretched landscape 

Concrete misshapen paving slab after slab

No where to go but down, no real growth

Just trodden down into shadow and gutter

No place for creature but tamed poisoned or maimed

What nature

Unveiled when hidden and timeless yet knowing she is here

In the cursed wretchedness of a landscape barren with body after body of lifeless despair

Filth beyond filth and not the sort that plays with puddles makes mud and lines footprints with where we have been

But underneath that trodden down cardboard cut out plastic rubbish bag collected one day but forgotten too soon

Homeless wreckage hunger for companion, still emerges sweetness and understanding of a ghost that left a home too many moons ago

Lost in a land of unknown multitudes of belly aches and doctors bills

No time to watch the arena of youth passing by and not notice that it’s changing beyond repair 

Beyond repair if we speak and dare, just dare to be the spoken voice of a game gone wrong

No hope to belong

Not to belong but master the obsession

If possible if one can

If that risk be undone and life prevails  

If life

And if 

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how do we meet potential?

What happens when we or others find our/their soul purpose? When we know that the reason for us (or them) being here on this planet is clear and obvious.

It’s possible that either way, we meet with fear, anxiety, the need to have others approval thus making the timing of our approach and how words and voices are met and shared a crucial part of the process.

In native and traditional, indigenous teachings the souls purpose is welcomed and honored as soon as it is witnessed. Individuals are given encouragement and are challenged appropriately to master their art and to fulfil their potential.
In our western society it can be frowned upon, not taken seriously, dissuaded from as if it is not important enough and some other path is. Encouraging our youngsters to follow careers of their family’s, peers or education/ organisations approval.

So when youngsters tell us what they know to be their path, career, study period, how will we meet it?

Can we give a total ‘yes’ to what they know is right for them, and trust their decisions, or must we inflict our own desires, wishes and ultimately our own needs towards their growth?

When we discover a true path for ourselves and know the importance of this in our lives, can we stand strong in the face of adversity and believe enough in ourselves to speak out and open our hearts to our true nature?

What does it take to honor the soul and include the passions of our soul purpose as the true growth of our potential?


‘Hollow Bone’
Caroline Carey
publish date 2017/18



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dark night of the soul

It is true that sometimes in order to re-claim our soul, we must journey into the darker places, the mystery, the hunger, the deprivation that lingers. We must uncover the earth where sorrow lies a…

Source: dark night of the soul

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Is your soul calling home?

Is poetry wanting to be moved between your lips
and a sense of creativity itching your finger tips?

Has a song awoken in your heart and is longing for your ears to hear and receive it?

And is your body yearning for movement, for dance and the wild abandonment and ecstatic bliss that only a feeling heart can manifest through awakened limbs?

Is your imagination following the signs of nature and reminding you of your passion for life and the curious spirit within?

Did you tell that story or write those words, or spoken at least one outrageous statement, so meaningful to you yet madness to anyone else?

Are you doing and being what you love 

and honouring those parts of your soul that long to be truly home?

Caroline Carey

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Middle Earths Origins

Tree of Life HB.jpg

Middle Earths Origins


My story

my hands

become the art

of my souls


No other path

can I follow

Because this is who I am

And only by giving to it

every breath

every dance

every meaning

Can I fulfil

my reason for being here.

My soul

my story

my offering.

And I choose to live by this, to believe it, to nourish it, because my soul knows no other way. I have learnt through living just how it is to bring our soul-purpose to earth. I have watched through my own journey, the flow of energy that has at times tried to burst its way through, sometimes too fast and sometimes without fully knowing why it is there. And I have had to slow down, take deep breaths, be patient for its coming, for its arrival.

The journey of the soul is a timely thing yet it knows no time. But for it to be effective and truly find its way, without bursting into madness, great care must be taken.

I have felt pregnant many times in my life with this energy force, searing at the seams of my desire and daring to show itself as a passionate dancing warrior with a tool bag of medicine, creative objects, bones and feathers of remarkable quality and smells and sensations that fingers love to touch and curl themselves around, seeking stories from every lingering passer by, that visits me in a dream or a shamanic journey.

My souls calling, that Hollow Bone state that follows through my middle earth being, living in this world as a middle earth child. Born on the Winter Solstice, inbetween, the dark the light, the shadow in-between, stretched between the differences ready to bring that same difference to the world and learn to live in that central place of not one or the other but both, to be stretched, always stretched. Yet calmly finding a way to accept, to deeply accept this place of conflict that can be so easily danced with, once we know its mighty force!

And to know its mighty force we must stand in that Vesicus Piscis, invite the dark and the light together, just as we do the masculine and feminine, the yin and the yang and all of the forces of separation that they represent. And knowing then the brightest of lights, we become ‘one’ with all that is, we become the Divine Spirit that only this place can know.

Born a middle child, an older brother and a younger sister, I am in the middle, holding my own, am I male? Sometimes yes, I wear my brothers hand me downs, old jeans and sneakers, I try, yes only try to let him teach me football and rugby, there is at times no other ‘boy’ to play with, so I must. I fail at this sport, this sport I can make no sense of. But he digs up the old bones with me and that will suffice, our little pets that had to be buried, we look beneath the grave and find the oddments and to this day the bones are resurfaced to make medicine tools and creative pieces of wonderment.

Am I female? Sometimes yes, the little girl who came along needs her bigger sister, sometimes, to play those games that only girls will play, and then we find the dolls and the cuddly toys and the dresses and a pram that goes rusty when we leave it in the garden on rainy days, but in it amongst the slugs and snails who take refuge and seek out the crumbs from our picnics, we put our rabbits and our guinea pigs and push them around the garden, singing little songs and donning them with white lacy baby hats tied under their chins. I was introduced to jealousy however, in those days, I felt that curse begin to surface from under my skin, that pretty thing with the long golden hair and mine a strange reddish sort of ginger, my mother called titian blonde. I cut it off once, hers I mean, one day whilst left in the car at a parent teachers meeting outside the school. I found a pair of scissors and that was that. I spent along while in my bedroom, ‘contemplating’ I am told!

 Was I a boy or a girl, I could do both it seems, quite well. A useful way to merge in the world, one day doing my ballet classes and then being amongst ponies and horses and another with the boys on motor bikes and leather jackets, my yin and yang developing quite well as I found that pull with how to be correct in my mothers world and wear nice dresses and be good at the all girls public schools I spent my time at, until they told me to leave!

The environment was a nice middle class family, in a nice home with a garden, in the Midlands, the middle of the country I suppose that means? But it was the Midlands and somewhere near the Black Country, where my father worked in factories as a director, an important role, running the family business. The Midlands it seems is a good place to be, it holds many adventures from inner city life to the rural countryside that we eventually escape to. It seemed to hold a good array of interest for me, liking the going between, city and nature, city and nature. I liked the factories with the machinery, loud rhythmical sounds, smell of sacking and oil, the voices of the working classes, they swore a lot, even in jest, I liked that, my mother would never allow such words, I even said a few myself, when she could not hear. I put three-penny bits in the drinks machine and took them all cups or tea and coffee, I loved the smell of that dark rich roast, it looked like it stained their teeth, but it might have been the endless cigarettes they smoked?

And then the countryside, ah sweet nature, the animals and the places to hide, the deep dark tunnels of the stately home we lived in the grounds of, all wrecked and ruined but a wonderful adventure for us all. Trees, old hedgerows, metal gates and a wonderment of elemental experiences. I could be on my own here, but with my animals of course. They understood more than most I felt.

 I plunged into adulthood, with not much preparation, no middle ground to ‘practice’ from, to learn more mistakes and make some changes from them, I immersed into it well with many challenges sometimes losing that ground, but having to find it very quickly because of that baby in my belly and my mummy instincts for survival for us both, a necessity for me for him and the blind boyfriend at my side. Pregnancy was a strong teacher for me, as was and is motherhood.

Three boys and three girls, I stand again in the middle of the masculine and feminine, a mandorla of my own making, a balance of yin and yang, holding this youthful energy field as I created and brought human-beings into this world, each one with his or her many gifts and soul offerings. I watched them grow into theirs, knowing they were teaching me about mine, so fully so deeply, so determinedly, so matter of factly, ordinary lives meeting ordinary lives, we had our challenges and struggles, we came through time and time again and we became the poetry of our lives.

And now to learn why this all matters, and why it sculpts in to who I am now and why I must see this as my souls offering to humanity and beyond.

If we were all to look deeply into our lives and our history, what might we discover about our own souls calling?

from Hollow Bone; Middle Earth Medicine Ways © To be published 2017

Caroline Carey

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actions and re-actions

white owlWhat is the split part of me? What if anything do I really fear?
Am I so entrenched in the fears of being alone, that I must make my fear about others and their actions? Re-actions of theirs or our own?

Or do I sit in the quiet silence of my own fear and paranoia and ask myself, who am I to add to the mistrust of others, to the slavery of mankind, to the notion that I am one and I am separate?

For there is no separation, unless we fully believe in it!

There is only love if we make it so, there is only good if we believe it to be and there is a divine plan that at times leads us into the darkened world of chaos, where we dance that crazy dance of wild abandonment to uproot and re-root ourselves, churning up the mud and the debris asking ourselves over and over – ‘in the mirror of thee, I see myself’
But that in itself can be a journey full of fear, for sure. Even standing in the Center of our own conflict can and does create fear, we are pulled in many directions for sure!

But when we can whole heartedly enter into that river of chaos with a little more trust in our hearts and laugh at the mad makings of men and women, when we surrender to the rapids and undercurrents, when we learn to unite together in that flow of energy knowing there is so much more to life, that we are life and what really matters is already taken care of, we remember that we are such a minority in the greater scheme of things, such a minority on this vast and beautiful planet that is interconnected with the whole of the universe.

Time to do our inner work, to look within, to know our fears and know they belong to us, that our cellular systems need a deep cleansing so we come from a place of wisdom and clarity in what we need to do, without reacting from past stories and how it once was. Not scare-mongery, not anger towards others, not blame, not judgement, not ridicule……When the self stands strong and full of heart, then so does the ‘us’ that we become.

Yet our greatest fear since we left the mothers womb is separation, so we become addicts to ‘what’s mine,’ what ever that fear gets attached to.

It is always and has always been the most important time to do our inner work, to take responsibility for who we are and believe in ourselves and the goodness of each other, we are connected and always will be, there is no separation, we are one earth. Our primal instinctive nature knows this at a deep core level.

Caroline Carey

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