What happens when we look at ourselves and are unable to track the pain...
And I’ll try to remember how they got there.
Some scars I remember. Some I don’t.
Today, I found the one under my mouth.
It happened when my tooth went through my lip.
{No fun.}
If I turn my head a certain way, or roll my lip under just so, I can’t even find the scar at all.
{I know! Me? Morning?!!}
The transmission brought us into a conversation about physical and emotional pain and how they can become so ingrained in our identity, that we often forget who we are OUTSIDE of them.
{Note: We are God made manifest. And… we are here with a personhood in human form. However, sometimes we can identify the form as that which we are, rather than a temporal experiencing of that which we are.}
What happens when we look at ourselves and are unable to track the pain, because it has left its mark solely in places that are inaccessible to the human eye…
And are laid bare only to the eye of soul.
We are offered medicine with our scars, both the physical and emotional ones.
We do not always feel ready or able to hold them as medicine, and that’s ok.
But when we do, it’s a portal.
Because it invites us beyond form as our lens.
It invokes us back into and as formlessness itself.
And it initiates us into remembering who the fuck we are.
As always…
Here’s to your untaming,
N
P.S.:
Watch this space…