Spirit Journal: 2017-04-15.01

Last night was going to be the night I make my next formal attempt to scale the Holy Mountain. Self work that I thought was going to be just a couple nights of wishful thinking and patting myself on the back for being so daring and explorative had turned into weeks of rescuing my shattered and forgotten soul pieces from the past, present, and implied threats from the future.

I had forgotten all about ascending the Holy Mountain, to be honest, as another desire arose with the recovered pieces to take priority over the expression of pride I had mistaken for progress.

Unity.

Every time I ask why am I doing this, the answer remains so I will be able to help people in the future. I don’t believe that answer, but if it helps keep me alive during the times that depression is trying to bury me still breathing, then I’ll accept it for now. It’s just that I can’t help people with broken hands, so if I’m going to be of help to others later, I need to be of help to myself now.

These pieces that were stolen from me, these pieces that were beaten out of me, these pieces that I was ashamed to have, and these pieces that I felt I didn’t deserve to have, they are all part of me.

They are all me.

And I’m not leaving them behind again.

Even though accepting them calls into question my assumptions about myself, challenges my belief systems, and spotlights where I have been harming myself and blaming others.

But this is necessary to clean out the wound in my soul. This is the bitter medicine I need to heal.

And then…

I live near three significant mountain peaks. If I’m driving east or west, I’m going to be facing one or two of these peaks. All last week, the weather has been such that the lower third of the mountain I happen to be facing during the work commute is obscured by fog and/or low clouds while the peak is clear with a cloudless sky above it.

It took three apparitions in three days for me to recognize the scenery.

When I did, I felt the strongest sorrow and pull. I belong up there. He’s waiting for me up there. There is a part of me up there, above the flames, and it wants unity.

Before I made the attempt, though, I was notified that a friend was going through some shit. Plans had to be altered, timing had to be adjusted.

All of the pieces that I have are going up that mountain. Sangre sucia or not.

We’ll see what happens next.

Author: Keri

Animist, searching, reading, dreaming, pondering, learning. Plays with tarot. Other gods' people. Mystery Cult of One.