The Asking
When you realise that the very place where you feel buried is actually where your initiation begins.
I didn’t recognise how deeply buried I had become. I could hear no call—only momentum, a relentless list of tasks, days filled with requests, and my bending and stretching to meet them all.
What I did feel was the fury—wild, volcanic fury. Earth-shattering, unhinged, feminine fury. I spent many mornings silently screaming into the abyss, leaving nail prints on my palms from clenched fists, trembling under the weight of it all.
Then came the grief. It swirled in waves within me, bringing forth all the memories of what I had lost: the love, the sense of belonging, my relationship with Mother Earth, and the profound depth of connection within my being. All of this began to flicker before me through the cracks, offering glimpses of what was to come. I now understand that this was the call.
Your call may manifest as a desire to seek, a moment of breaking free; it may arise from a numbness longing to feel again, a profound sense of loss or grief, or deep fury within you demanding release. When we reach a point where our body says, "Enough," it’s time to listen. That’s when you begin to seek the space that will hold you—those who understand your journey.
No doubt, it can feel challenging in the moment—uncomfortable to sit with. Devastating, in fact. I urge you not to flee from this space; honour where you are.
Find time and space to allow your feelings to surface. Spread your arms and legs wide in this space; make room for her to feel, to breathe, so that your essence can begin to move again under the weight of it all.
Allow this moment without blame and without the narrative of punishment. Embrace a radical accountability for where you are and what you participated in to arrive here.
Bow to it. Welcome it. "I am here, and I acknowledge where I sit." Even if it feels hard and you want to plan your way out, the best action is to drop the plan and let it be felt.
Some may call this spiritual sickness; others refer to it as burdens. I call it an invitation.
You may not realise it, but this is the call—buried alive. It is a call to the temple, a call home.
I had no choice; it washed over me like wave after wave until I found myself ashore, gazing at the shipwreck I had created. This is where I truly began asking for healing and finally understood that I didn’t have to face it alone. The asking became my way of opening my body to divine assistance and support systems—a reminder that we are not alone, but part of a vast web of connection. We are the very doorway to the medicine that is alive within us.
I thank God for the fury; it is what woke me.
I urge you to go gently here—toward the self, toward the opportunity that arises within the space you are creating to feel.
Remember, assistance is here when you are ready.
