Preparing to Soar
And the gift of non-interference
Whatever must it be like to withdraw from the world, wrap yourself in a hard cocoon, allow yourself to be dissolved and reassembled then one day, to awaken with a huge stretch, split out of the restrictive chrysalis, pump fluid into crumpled wings and take to the air?
Or, even more strange, after a few years being a ferocious underwater predator, one day, to walk out of the only world you’ve known, and start to breathe in an entirely new way. Then having crawled up a convenient stem, to clamber out of your nymph skin as a fully formed, magnificent, mature dragonfly. With phenomenal flying agility and ultra multi-colour vision, life is never going to be the same again! There will be no going back to the muddy riverbed.
How awe-some! What amazing creatures and what a process they undergo.
And this metaphor, originally suggested by Richard Rudd and now widely accepted, is being applied to the changes that humanity and the earth are currently undergoing.
Awe-some! In what ways can we help the process along?
You already know that I love patterns and processes, and, as my last two contemplations suggest, the life-death-rebirth, The Great Round holds a particular fascination. I’m coming to know the truth of this pattern as the bedrock to life. Change is, after all, the only constant. Yet, even so, my left analytical brain consistently attempts to straighten things out and simplify them in its attempt to understand. I’m not alone in this, I know. Look at all the models and diagrams we’ve created in our attempts to make complex processes two dimensional and somehow graspable. And they are great; they’re just not the whole story.
My left-brain vision tells me that life goes on until a change, a “small death” occurs, something ends, then, all in good time, something new emerges. All nicely linear and sequential. Yet, of-course, life is much more multi-dimensional. Something, long since conceived continues its quiet gestation, while business on the surface continues as usual.
The new is developing, while the old is passing. The mature dragonfly forms while the larva carries on being a fully active water nymph.
From a shamanic perspective it’s noted that sometimes, albeit subconsciously we cause the failures we experience in our lives. Deep down, it’s believed we know something better is possible. Perhaps it’s a better version of ourselves, perhaps it’s a more polished manifestation that grew from that initial spark of inspiration. And so, we set ourselves up with the exact conditions needed to spark our growth.
I find admitting such subconscious self-sabotage to be a bitter medicine, especially in those head-in-hands times where a deep sense of futility comes knocking. It’s so much more energising to blame something or someone else in a leaping quest to fervently defend my position; to wield an exhaustive list of excuses as if life depended upon them. All this in a desperate attempt to ease the sting of something perceived as failure.
Or there’s the collapse into muddy self-pity, that dive into victim mentality. The fear of extending myself sufficiently to make this thing work, or the fear of commitment, the fear of success or failure, the fear of what might be asked of me and how I might need to grow. Likely, there’s some dramatic swing between both reactive and repressive forms!
But ultimately, counsels’ ancient wisdom, there’s no one to blame but myself!
How wonderful!
Let’s begin by using this as an opportunity to shift from blaming – with its resultant guilt, shame, sense of worthlessness or superiority, to the more dignified position of admitting mistakes and taking personal responsibility; responsibility for my attitude, choices and actions, for recognising patterns of self-sabotage and for doing all that’s needed to bring about positive change.
And how wonderful! There’s no such thing as failure! No such thing, that is, if we can pull ourselves from the watery depths, brush off the worst of the mud, learn from every result and do the work needed to grow.
How wonderful, to be able to bring these thoughts into written form, as a reminder for myself and I hope, as a helpful reflection for you!
Last week, I spent two days trying to keep myself from the mire as great heavy waves swept over me. Collapse seemed most appealing, as tears insistently spilled over and all energy left my body.
As a child, I loved to jump waves with my father. He’d take me to that sweet spot where my feet were magically lifted off then returned to the sand with each passing swell. Sometimes, there’d be a huge, terrifying breaker hurtling towards us. Sometimes he’d lift me high above the rolling crest – and sometimes, pinching my nose hurriedly I’d duck down, bracing against the swell, before rising, breathless, bursting through the surface with a thousand bubbles, ready to do it all over again!
Last week’s waves were not like that. There was no vitality or playfulness, just a numbing, oily heaviness. Arising silently, seemingly from nowhere, a deep sense of futility closed over my head, suffocating, offering no visible escape. I was sucked in and down, surrounded by sinister whispers, “it’s all pointless! Just give up.”
For a moment, I tried to engage the voices – asking if I were to just give up, then what? It soon became clear that if anything were futile, it was this sort of conversation!
Let me give a little context.
I am exploring a dwarf planet called Orcus, named after the Etruscan god of the underworld. In the commonly recounted and somewhat limited interpretation of the myth, he’s thought to take oath-breakers into the underworld and punish them. Opening to a wider interpretation and looking at his process through the lens of life-death-rebirth, he offers us the opportunity to see the consequences of our actions, and ultimately to transmute fear-based patterns into those based in love – in shorthand, we could say, to transmute “shadow into light”.
Orcus is thought to take us to previously unexplored areas of the underworld, and he didn’t disappoint!
My assignment was to look at times in my life where this dwarf planet was exerting a particular influence, because of its movement through the sky, its relationship to the other planets and to the mandala of my astrological birth chart.
I’m still a novice when it comes to exploring planetary transits in this way, but finding it fascinating, I jumped in and then suddenly the waves hit.
So, here I am overwhelmed, with a heavy sense of futility assuring me it’s all pointless and encouraging me to just give up.
Whilst I don’t always understand what’s happening, I’m getting better at following my intuition and actually applying all that I’ve been taught!
Simply let it be.
Allow the heaviness to be part of my experience.
Allow the tears, the frustration, the sense of futility without asking why they’d come.
Comfort my fearful inner-child.
And gradually, take several long, slow deep breaths and support the energy to flow through some form of movement; yoga, a walk, tending my plants, sweeping the floor . . .. You’ll know what works for you.
As I allowed, accepted and even embraced Futility, the waves passed, making way for something more life-giving.
As is often the case when writing, I’ve come to a junction, and I want to go in two different directions! The dark of the moon is calling me inwards – let’s go that way.
Astrologically, there’s been a long-term theme for these times about restoring balance to our relationships, a theme that I’ve touched on in the last couple of contemplations, and previously [i]. And this new moon continues to support us in this venture.
So, what has my encounter with futility to do with right-relationships?
How might this contemplation reassemble us in some helpful way, to support the hidden gestation that’s preparing us to soar?
Once more, the ancient Sumerian myth of Inanna comes to mind.
Before her initiatory descent to the underworld – that place of no return, Inanna instructed her friend to keep her in mind and if, after three days she had not returned, to get help. Inanna knew that it’s possible to get lost in the recesses of the underworld. She knew she needed support in her journey.
It would have been possible for me to get lost in the murky depths of Futility’s grasp, and while we each have work to do that is ours alone, we also need support.
I am blessed to have a friend with whom I can share my sometimes-turbulent emotional state. I know that it will be empathetically accepted for what it is and that I will be empathically accepted for who I am, in all my messiness.
I know that no attempt will be made to try to fix me or make me feel better. I know that my concern will not be diminished by tales of more dramatic experiences and, most importantly, I know that I will not be rescued.
Nor will I have to snap out of my distress because it is too much for my friend to bear.
And I know that if I ask for help, within mutually respectful boundaries, it will be forthcoming.
When, years ago, I first received this gift from my friend, I felt quite ambivalent about it!
Whilst I can become irritated with unsolicited advice, there are times when I want, and times when I need to be rescued and comforted, times when I need to be cajoled or lifted out of my negativity. Sometimes I need some input to break the tension and lift the frequency.
Inanna also had a genuine need to be rescued. Through her friend’s intervention, two earth creatures were sent into the underworld to revive Inanna and to lead her home. Without their help, she would have remained, immobilised in death.
But Ereshkigal, Inanna’s sister and Queen of the Underworld was supported through, rather than rescued from the labour pains and the grief that she endured.
This was her path. Ereshkigal had inner work to do. The earth creatures empathically witnessed her process and allowed her to complete it. By validating her experience and affirming her capabilities, healing emerged. From here, Ereshkigal was able to release the death-grasp with which she held her sister, and new life was borne.
So, do we witness? Do we rescue? Do we cajole or use humour to break the tension and lift the frequency? How do we move towards rightness in our relationships? Discernment is clearly needed.
I have learned that being witnessed, receiving acceptance and non-interfering presence is deeply respectful.
It allows me to be in and take responsibility for my process. It allows any necessary healing to emerge. It allows me to regain dignity.
Held within a supportive allegiance, non-interference affirms my ability to endure or creatively navigate my experience. It communicates to me that my process has value and importantly, that I can handle everything that life throws at me.
And it offers me the opportunity to discern what help I need and, to ask for it.
I have great admiration for my friend’s ability. It takes clear boundaries, a level of self-assurance, and respectful commitment to be present to another’s pain or distress and just let it be.
And I want to develop this capacity more fully in myself.
So often I want to “make it better” to save both the other and myself from the felt discomfort.
Usually, my motivation is to alleviate suffering, but sometimes, unconsciously projected from unresolved woundedness, something less wholesome emerges.
Sometimes impatience rushes in and I brush the other off with meager platitudes.
Sometimes, uninvited, I offer suggestions or advice.
How much of this need to make it better or to rescue, I wonder, comes from a sense of superiority, a sense that I know what the other needs better than they know themselves. The world is full of this – loud voices clamoring to tell us exactly what we should or should not be doing. How arrogant!
How much of the need to rescue comes from an attempt to maintain a sense of control?
How much comes from a sense of ownership, entitlement or misplaced responsibility that, once exerted maintains my position, whilst restricting growth in the other?
How much am I really trying to keep the focus on myself, fearful perhaps that whilst in this state, my friend is not going to be able to meet my agenda, provide for my needs or worst still, that any change in them will require a change in me?
Or how much of it comes from a simple discomfort with the in-between space, when the old thing seems to have faded and the new is taking such a long time to gestate.
As I contemplate, I can see how my seemingly helpful responses can be an expression of an out-of-balance relationship. As such, they can undermine, rather than support the other on their journey towards flight.
When I offer unsolicited advice, interrupt, become impatient, lack or overstep boundaries, it communicates a negative view of the abilities of the other.
It disregards their skills and capacity to learn.
It disregards their ideas and the attempts they’ve already made to navigate their situation.
It assumes that low moods, and underworld sojourns are to be avoided.
It assumes that, in my great wisdom, I have the perfect answer to resolve all their problems. How arrogant!
I want to live in right-relationship with myself and with others, and one way that I can do that, is to practice appropriate non-interference in my relationships.
If this intention appeals to you too, pause for a moment, if you will and consider your experience.
Ask yourself,
When I am in pain or distress, or when Futility comes knocking, what response do I wish to receive?
And
How do I respond to the pain, distress or sense of futility in another?
If there’s a mismatch between your responses to the two questions, how wonderful!
There’s an opening for growth!
Perhaps begin by watching out for the things that irritate or leave you feeling diminished in an interaction with another.
Before confronting your friend, check in with yourself to see if this is something you unconsciously also do, and if yes . . .
Ask yourself,
What small adjustment could I make in the way I respond to another so that I affirm them, whilst making myself available, should they ask for my help?
Perhaps in so doing, we can honour and respect one another and support a re-righting of relationships that have become unbalanced.
Perhaps in so doing we can support new forms that are developing just below the surface, helping each other along the way, as we prepare to soar with stunning agility.
Be well, be safe, be happy,
Annie
[i] I talk about being in right-relationship with myself and the shamanic understanding of our mistakes and failures in this post, “Camino dos Faros” from August 2023. It also includes reference to the myth of Inanna, I think you’ll find it complementary reading. Enjoy!