An Orange Journal & a Quiet Birthday
On September 11th, I turned 35. It was inauspicious.
It rained that morning and I pulled out my bright, orange journal to write it down, whatever it ended up being. I found myself reflecting on love, loss, and longing and rather than celebration I sank into lamentation.
35 years of this, and certain parts haven’t gotten much easier.
Things are that way though, aren’t they? They get harder and harder, becoming almost unbearable, until a great emotional upheaval and then woosh... relief on this plane, in this vibration.
Until the time comes when we walk a little more deeply down the spiral staircase into the knowledge of our souls and at every loop we find a new iteration of that same old friend, beckoning us deeper still, into the more subtle layers of our origin pain, that hopefully, we may one day not need to greet it at all. If not in this life then in the next.
For me the lesson around every turn is learning how to relate to people without sacrificing myself for their love.. Codepency. Refining and perfecting the way I engage in relationships. This lesson is hardwired into my DNA from lifetimes of self-abandonment all so I could get here to this life and break this cycle. For myself, my children, for their children, and for my future selves in this earthly plane. This is the lesson I will learn most completely, then offer my gifts of its knowing to the world.
At every turn I meet a new pattern, a new way codependency is quietly making itself known. At first this work was excruciating, like pulling my own teeth, but I have ventured so deep that I am living in my subtle body, smoothing ruffled edges and calming the low humming of feedback. During this great refinement, I understand more clearly than ever that love is the souls predisposition. As I deepen my relationships with the unseen plane, developing my ability to connect with friends on the other side of the veil, I find myself so hungry for a deeper love on the 3D plane as well.
This orange journal that I’ve been writing in since November of 2021 is about to wrap up. The pages draw near their end, and I laugh because orange is the color of the Sacral Chakra. The Chakra that holds the energy of relationships. Life is a synchronicity, and the energy knew I’d be spending the year swirling my sacral energies in earnest. Its pages are filled with me venting, questioning, growing curiosity around friends and loves and business relationships.
The cover makes it a touch more ironic, and a little ouch too. 😂
Most of the time it’s stained with frustration. Can’t we just be honest? Can’t we just say how we feel? Why must we do this dance? Why would they think I bear them ill will?
I who am so desperate to love and be loved… I who have kissed the Universe with an open mouth, you think I would harm you? No no, never. I only want to love you the way I know we can love. Don’t you trust me?
I realize that it is not them that says no to me, that pushes away and fails to requite and refuses to close the distance. It is so clearly the 3D plane we have subjected ourselves to. These paltry words we must speak out just to be understood. This is the culprit. But I also realize we did this to ourselves. We volunteered to descend from the highest heights, then stuff a tiny part of our vast souls into this physical body, making it a requirement to communicate our love and our realities to one another in order for them and by extension us, to be known.
Not even factoring in time. Not even factoring the finitude of our lives and abilities.
How many kids do you have? How many pets? How big is your house? How small is your bank account? How large is your vocabulary? This is your second language? Your brain makes these words seem like a threat? Your ears hear condemnation when I say this phrase? Your body was so violated that nothing I could do or say could make you feel safe in my presence?
Limits. Limits. Limits. In every nook and cranny of human existence.
And so I sat there on the morning of the start of my 35th year of life. I had my coffee and my orange sacral journ(ey)al. I watched the rain fall and penned a desperate poem of longing, sorrow, and mostly of homesickness. I just wanted to go home for my birthday, to swim in that universal, oceanic swell of love.
Here is the poem, and it’s answer that came a few days later when I cried on the phone to someone who does love me in as a perfect a way as we can get down here.
I hope you enjoy.
