Have you noticed, that the old ways are no longer working?

I could feel that an initiation was coming, so I did what I know how to do. I know how to die and be reborn. I know how to go into the desert by myself and let my grief shudder and shatter me and I know how to come back into the world stronger and better and clearer and galvanized, tempered and forged. I know how to be alone.

I know and trust that cycle so deeply that when I went into the desert to be with the wild horses knowing that I would face my death and be obliterated and survive, it didn’t even phase me that to get there I had to drive through two valleys, one named Paradox, the other Disappointment. I’m not even kidding. Those are the names of the valleys, and I thought, Perfect, bring it on.

I drove out of cell range and forgot to use the navi so had to find my way with an old paper map and me and my trusty steed Denny, my trusty 2008 Toyota Tacoma, my 4x4 badass pony, we climbed ridges and mountains looking for the valleys with the wild horses, but got lost and turned around and finally we gave up and drove back up and over and around until we were on the main road and back in the world. We decided to drive to a town so I could get a cell signal and see if I could get us to the valleys and on the way, unexpected, there they were.

Entering Paradox Valley, the sign said, and I slowed down and turned left on an old dirt road and drove and drove and then Wild Horses Ahead, it said, and there it was, Disappointment Valley. I dropped in and right away a little band with a stallion and 3 mares and a foal. These were not wild horses domesticated and soft with treats and pets, but truly wild and as I slowed down beside them, the stallion (sacred masculine clarity), moved between me and his family and flexed his energy with such force that I gasped and drew back and crept along the road, giving them space and honoring their place.

I drove back and back until I found a high spot and parked and set up my bed and looked and at the stars, ready to face what I had to face, and instead my body, my nervous system, my little inner maiden, screamed a loud and unexpected No. It shocked me and I grabbed my drum and tapped a rhythm with the thrum of the crickets and tried to calm myself, tried to explain, this is what we do. This is the way we know. This is how we change and grow and become and my maiden and ego and body screamed again, No.

I spent that night huddled under my blanket, my drum against my low back to protect me from a terror that I couldn’t name, and the next day I woke up and shook it off and went for a long walk, and saw more horses and came into the pace of nature, and Yes, I thought, I’m ok, this is still the way.

That night, again, my body and heart and little one writhed and kicked and screamed and yelled No as I settled into bed, settled in after a day of journaling, reading, seeking, searching. Yes, I said. Yes, this is the way. No, they cried, we can’t anymore. We can’t be alone, we can’t burn it all down, we can’t be immolated by ourselves out here in the desert with the horses and the sky, out here with no other nervous system to help us when we cry. No. No. Absolutely fucking no.

So I went home the next day, rattled and scared, knowing that this initiation would be different. Yes I would go in and down, yes, I would die to my old self, my old life, the old ways so that I could be reborn, but this time I would have to do it in the light of day, at a slow, slow pace, with other people around who could witness my pain and shame and fear of being seen. I got home, exhausted and drained, and lay down in my soft warm bed and began to dream. In my dreams I died and was born and died again and around me stood a multitude of ancestors and helpers and guides, and my boyfriend poked his head in the door a few times a day, Are you okay? Yes, I squeaked, thank you, I am burning but I am not alone and so yes, I am okay.

I am still in the fire. Still letting things falls away. I am still facing my deepest fears, still orienting towards my rebirth and the earth and wondering how far down this will go. This initiation is not a night and a day in the desert with my drum and the horses. This initiation is long and slow and deep and safe and I may have to give it all away. I may have to leave and start something new but this time there will be no burning down and running into the night. It will be with my head high, looking the world in the eye, unafraid of my pain, unashamed of my ways. Witnessed. Held. Seen. Mature feminine energy.

The old ways aren’t working anymore. That is the gift of the intelligence and phenomenal love of the Force of Life that flows through us and for us. There is a new way, and I will be new after this initiation. I won’t be alone. Community, to guide me home. My own heart and my own bones, ringing with the song of a thousand voices rising, saying, we are coming, you are not alone.