Yesterday, I cracked open and my cocoon shattered; I finally feel myself again.
Imagine holding your breath to the pass-out point, and just when you think you’re going down someone whispers, “remember to breathe” and you do.
When everything that animates you begins to work and the atrophy that was beginning to set in has abated there is finally space for realization.
I was on the brink of something, I had been straddling the line that takes me in the opposite direction of my desires and finally realize I can pivot.
I didn’t know I had gotten so far away that I was holding my breath, for far longer than necessary. But when I cracked open it became very clear. The reminder came at the perfect time, the exhale happened and tumbled me into epiphany after epiphany. In this open place I can remember that softness is good.
My mother’s voice visited today,
“once you open a door to knowledge, you can never fully close that door again.”
There will never be a time that I tumble over the edge and forget everything, but I think my sheer stubbornness to release some of my old habits will cause me to straddle the edge between forgetting and forward momentum.
These moments of cocooning have happened many times on my spiritual journey, and each time that I emerge from this subtle state, there is another layer of confidence stitched to my form. As though the shedding remanence of my exoskeleton had been a safe place to grow tender new skin.