The Spot Where the Soul Thoughts are Spoken and Feeling Out Loud, Your Space
It's Time to Jump!
“The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.” Albert Einstein
Paying homage to the rational mind comes naturally in our fast-paced consumer-driven society. We want what we want when we want it. Food, clothes, homes, cars, sex, information—the object of desire matters less than our insatiable desire to possess it; and the rational mind with its controlled intellect and superior ability to analyze is always more than happy to show us how to get and how to possess.
Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not questioning the necessity of the rational mind. As a writer, I know its importance—especially during editing and revision. As an intuitive, however, I also know how devastatingly critical the rational mind can be during the early stages of creation. If not kept in its rightful place, the rational mind will destroy the very seeds of creativity before they even have a chance to take root.
Keeping the rational mind in its proper place can be difficult—especially when fear and self-doubt are in play. As I have spent the past year dancing with this so-called “faithful servant,” I can honestly say that it is not easily subdued. The rational mind wants to be in control, and the ego would have it no other way.
The intuitive mind’s flashes of insight and inspiration and its ability of knowing without deduction or reasoning take the ego out of its comfort zone. The ego is all about reason and common sense. Caution—especially as we age—is its dominant keyword. It should come as no surprise then that the ego would prefer that we stay locked into our rational minds.
I, however, prefer to stay locked into my intuitive mind. As a writer and an intuitive empath, this really is the only realm in which I feel comfortable. And while it is true that I have learned a great deal from the rational mind, I would be reticent if I did not also say that many of these lessons have come at a cost—both to my creativity and to my spirituality.
Eight years ago, I sat down and started writing a novel. When that novel turned into two novels, I was overjoyed. Back then, I would jump out of bed and run to my computer. Every day brought a new and exciting adventure. Looking back, I can see how innocent I was—a publishing industry virgin, if you will. To say that I was naïve would be an understatement.
It didn’t take too long for my ego to step in and point out that my naïveté was nothing more than a form of ignorance. The more I tried to learn, the more I knew I didn’t know. Soon fear and self-doubt took over. My intuitive mind kept telling me to relax and to go with the flow. It urged me to forget about everything else and keep writing. “It’s not about publication,” it kept telling me. “It’s about the process.”
In my dreamtime, my characters came to me. They told me that I would write a series that would bring healing to many who like me had suffered abuse as a child. They shared scenes and dialogues and walked me through plots. They even gave me the titles of my next three books. But how would anyone be healed if the books were never published, I wondered—often aloud.
My rational mind stepped in with the answer. It told me it was time to bring on my “A” game. It told me that I needed to get the first two books published as quickly as possible. Following its lead, I studied and queried the publishing industry. I took nine months of writing classes. I read every book and magazine on craft and publishing that I could get my hands on. I took more seminars than I care to admit. And I became a joiner . . . yes, that’s right, a joiner. I joined on-line communities, writing circles, and book clubs—just to name a few.
I hunkered down and devoted myself to setting up and maintaining social networking sites. Like a crack addict looking for a fix, I spent hours trolling Facebook and MySpace—just looking for friends, mind you. I was LinkedIn and Technoratied. I was tweeting with the best of them. My blog was on up on six sites. People were commenting. It felt good to be noticed. My ego was overjoyed. My intuitive mind, however, was shutting down.
Sometimes, I’d pull up my third novel and struggle to write a paragraph. Sometimes, I’d work on a blog. But to be honest, I got to the point where I just didn’t want to write anymore. I felt like I had nothing worthwhile to say. I knew my creativity was being bled out; but by that point, I was far too weak to try to stop the bleeding. It was easier just to let my rational mind control the situation. It told me I was still working—still moving forward toward my goal.
My intuitive mind, however, kept trying to pull me back. It kept reminding me that there was a big difference between a goal and a vision. Once the “V” word came out, my soul took over. My rational mind was appalled at the idea of taking a month off to go on a vision quest. Inconsistency, it reminded me, is the kiss of death. Kiss of death or not, I decided that I had to take some time off and get back to my center, back into my intuitive mind.
Inspiration and creativity are gifts of the intuitive mind. It is here in this sacred space that formlessness takes shape. This is where the journey begins and ends. This is the place of remembering: the place where the soul and the “I” converse without speaking a word, the place where symbol and metaphor unite and bring forth new life. This is the playground of the soul.
The intuitive mind is also the doorway into the other realms and, as such, is the portal into the depths of the vision quest. Vision quests are very personal journeys. Each individual has to access the deepest parts of his/herself in his/her own way and in his/her own time. I do so through meditation, prayer, singing, chanting, drumming, and ritual. There are as many tools as there are ways to do this; but in the end, there really is only one destination—and that destination is the sacred space known as the “REAL YOU.”
My vision quest led me through the labyrinth and down into the underworld where, along with Persephone, I was forced to look into the depths of my own soul. Here, in this sacred space, the maid and maiden brought forth the crone; and Demeter, Kore, and Hecate became one. Standing at the crossroads of my life, not knowing which way to go, my vision took root inside of me, and Hecate took my hand. In that moment, I knew exactly what I was supposed to do; and in that moment, I was changed. All the fear and doubt left.
I don’t feel comfortable sharing everything that I learned—at least, not right now; but I will say that you will be seeing some changes, especially in my blog. For one, you won’t be seeing it as often. As I am now devoting the majority of my time to my spiritual practice and to my novels, I will only be posting one blog a month. The content will also be different. I will still be blogging about the writing process, but on a different level. From here on out, I will be integrating metaphysical healing practices and rituals into this process.
It’s time to go deeper. It is time to step out of the rational mind and into the intuitive mind. If we are to heal ourselves and heal our world, we are going to have to let go of what we think we know and step boldly into the unknown. We are going to have to gather our healing tools and set our course. Remember, you can’t be the change if you haven’t changed.
I have experienced the healing power of the written word. I know, experientially, that story is a powerful healing tool—that it transforms and is transformed by the very telling of it. In my opinion, the healing aspect of writing is found not only within the story itself; it is also found in listening to the truth of what must be made known and then bearing witness to that truth through bringing it forth into the light.
There truly is magic in the written word, but that magic cannot be accessed unless we are willing to let go of our preconceived notions. If we are to heal ourselves and our world, we will have to go to the edge of what we consider reality; and once there, we will have to jump.
“COME TO THE EDGE,”
“No we will fall.”
“COME TO THE EDGE”
“No we will fall.”
“They came to the edge.”
“She pushed them and they flew.” Guillaume Apollinaire
Your soul wants to heal. Story is calling to you. Will you answer its call?
© 2009 Phoenix Rising. All Rights Reserved.
Individuals may copy this post for noncommercial use without permission provided that this post is used in its entirety and carries the Phoenix Rising copyright notice and the following link back to this blog: www.phoenixrisingwriterscorner.blogspot.com.
Paying homage to the rational mind comes naturally in our fast-paced consumer-driven society. We want what we want when we want it. Food, clothes, homes, cars, sex, information—the object of desire matters less than our insatiable desire to possess it; and the rational mind with its controlled intellect and superior ability to analyze is always more than happy to show us how to get and how to possess.
Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not questioning the necessity of the rational mind. As a writer, I know its importance—especially during editing and revision. As an intuitive, however, I also know how devastatingly critical the rational mind can be during the early stages of creation. If not kept in its rightful place, the rational mind will destroy the very seeds of creativity before they even have a chance to take root.
Keeping the rational mind in its proper place can be difficult—especially when fear and self-doubt are in play. As I have spent the past year dancing with this so-called “faithful servant,” I can honestly say that it is not easily subdued. The rational mind wants to be in control, and the ego would have it no other way.
The intuitive mind’s flashes of insight and inspiration and its ability of knowing without deduction or reasoning take the ego out of its comfort zone. The ego is all about reason and common sense. Caution—especially as we age—is its dominant keyword. It should come as no surprise then that the ego would prefer that we stay locked into our rational minds.
I, however, prefer to stay locked into my intuitive mind. As a writer and an intuitive empath, this really is the only realm in which I feel comfortable. And while it is true that I have learned a great deal from the rational mind, I would be reticent if I did not also say that many of these lessons have come at a cost—both to my creativity and to my spirituality.
Eight years ago, I sat down and started writing a novel. When that novel turned into two novels, I was overjoyed. Back then, I would jump out of bed and run to my computer. Every day brought a new and exciting adventure. Looking back, I can see how innocent I was—a publishing industry virgin, if you will. To say that I was naïve would be an understatement.
It didn’t take too long for my ego to step in and point out that my naïveté was nothing more than a form of ignorance. The more I tried to learn, the more I knew I didn’t know. Soon fear and self-doubt took over. My intuitive mind kept telling me to relax and to go with the flow. It urged me to forget about everything else and keep writing. “It’s not about publication,” it kept telling me. “It’s about the process.”
In my dreamtime, my characters came to me. They told me that I would write a series that would bring healing to many who like me had suffered abuse as a child. They shared scenes and dialogues and walked me through plots. They even gave me the titles of my next three books. But how would anyone be healed if the books were never published, I wondered—often aloud.
My rational mind stepped in with the answer. It told me it was time to bring on my “A” game. It told me that I needed to get the first two books published as quickly as possible. Following its lead, I studied and queried the publishing industry. I took nine months of writing classes. I read every book and magazine on craft and publishing that I could get my hands on. I took more seminars than I care to admit. And I became a joiner . . . yes, that’s right, a joiner. I joined on-line communities, writing circles, and book clubs—just to name a few.
I hunkered down and devoted myself to setting up and maintaining social networking sites. Like a crack addict looking for a fix, I spent hours trolling Facebook and MySpace—just looking for friends, mind you. I was LinkedIn and Technoratied. I was tweeting with the best of them. My blog was on up on six sites. People were commenting. It felt good to be noticed. My ego was overjoyed. My intuitive mind, however, was shutting down.
Sometimes, I’d pull up my third novel and struggle to write a paragraph. Sometimes, I’d work on a blog. But to be honest, I got to the point where I just didn’t want to write anymore. I felt like I had nothing worthwhile to say. I knew my creativity was being bled out; but by that point, I was far too weak to try to stop the bleeding. It was easier just to let my rational mind control the situation. It told me I was still working—still moving forward toward my goal.
My intuitive mind, however, kept trying to pull me back. It kept reminding me that there was a big difference between a goal and a vision. Once the “V” word came out, my soul took over. My rational mind was appalled at the idea of taking a month off to go on a vision quest. Inconsistency, it reminded me, is the kiss of death. Kiss of death or not, I decided that I had to take some time off and get back to my center, back into my intuitive mind.
Inspiration and creativity are gifts of the intuitive mind. It is here in this sacred space that formlessness takes shape. This is where the journey begins and ends. This is the place of remembering: the place where the soul and the “I” converse without speaking a word, the place where symbol and metaphor unite and bring forth new life. This is the playground of the soul.
The intuitive mind is also the doorway into the other realms and, as such, is the portal into the depths of the vision quest. Vision quests are very personal journeys. Each individual has to access the deepest parts of his/herself in his/her own way and in his/her own time. I do so through meditation, prayer, singing, chanting, drumming, and ritual. There are as many tools as there are ways to do this; but in the end, there really is only one destination—and that destination is the sacred space known as the “REAL YOU.”
My vision quest led me through the labyrinth and down into the underworld where, along with Persephone, I was forced to look into the depths of my own soul. Here, in this sacred space, the maid and maiden brought forth the crone; and Demeter, Kore, and Hecate became one. Standing at the crossroads of my life, not knowing which way to go, my vision took root inside of me, and Hecate took my hand. In that moment, I knew exactly what I was supposed to do; and in that moment, I was changed. All the fear and doubt left.
I don’t feel comfortable sharing everything that I learned—at least, not right now; but I will say that you will be seeing some changes, especially in my blog. For one, you won’t be seeing it as often. As I am now devoting the majority of my time to my spiritual practice and to my novels, I will only be posting one blog a month. The content will also be different. I will still be blogging about the writing process, but on a different level. From here on out, I will be integrating metaphysical healing practices and rituals into this process.
It’s time to go deeper. It is time to step out of the rational mind and into the intuitive mind. If we are to heal ourselves and heal our world, we are going to have to let go of what we think we know and step boldly into the unknown. We are going to have to gather our healing tools and set our course. Remember, you can’t be the change if you haven’t changed.
I have experienced the healing power of the written word. I know, experientially, that story is a powerful healing tool—that it transforms and is transformed by the very telling of it. In my opinion, the healing aspect of writing is found not only within the story itself; it is also found in listening to the truth of what must be made known and then bearing witness to that truth through bringing it forth into the light.
There truly is magic in the written word, but that magic cannot be accessed unless we are willing to let go of our preconceived notions. If we are to heal ourselves and our world, we will have to go to the edge of what we consider reality; and once there, we will have to jump.
“COME TO THE EDGE,”
“No we will fall.”
“COME TO THE EDGE”
“No we will fall.”
“They came to the edge.”
“She pushed them and they flew.” Guillaume Apollinaire
Your soul wants to heal. Story is calling to you. Will you answer its call?
© 2009 Phoenix Rising. All Rights Reserved.
Individuals may copy this post for noncommercial use without permission provided that this post is used in its entirety and carries the Phoenix Rising copyright notice and the following link back to this blog: www.phoenixrisingwriterscorner.blogspot.com.
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