My head is swimming with so many thoughts. They pummel my shore, creating sand from my mountains. I am overwhelmed, and nothing seems to help. Not my usual drumming, or meditation, or painting or self-expression. Nothing. I'm in this space of needing to take action or to begin the process of letting go. Within this container of complete discomfort, I feel pressed in on all sides, and am unable to see which direction is "best" for me. It has forced me into this open dialogue with those around me, in which these thoughts effect. This deep fear surfaces, one that is drenched in grief and sorrow and pain. It haunts me, and won't release it's painful grip. I try to shake it off, but it's dripping with past memories and stories, and knows it has me caught within it's web. I scream and cry, but it's hold only gets tighter. No amount of emotional release or grounding will tame it's poison; it's fangs have set deep within my bosom. As the poison makes its way through me, I slice away the pieces of myself it destroys; leaving a pile of decaying rot at my feet. Cutting and slicing until nothing is left. I am within this decaying rot wondering where I am and what happened to this life I previously created. As I seep into the ground, breaking down even further into nothingness, I am resting. Finally resting; resting, resting, resting. Nothing else, but utter rest is what I am. Laying fallow, gaining my strength, all within this dark, nourishing womb space of my Mother. And that's all that is required of me. To rest. To do nothing. To be. To lay fallow and allow nourishment to return to my bones.
Within this darkness, my mind becomes still. Within this deep rest, everything ceases. I know someday I will gather my bones and rise. But for now, I am resting, resting, resting. And that is all I need.