The Iron Door of Confusion

Between the layers

lies a collective confusion

about why we’re stuck

in a place where we know

to go

up or down.

Behind the iron door

in a space where there is no place

for joy or terror

in a place where we know

we should go

up or down.

Where the walls replaced

the once brilliant views

where there were no walls

there are now caverns of confusion

in a place where we know

to go up or down.

We move, we follow,

we express our sorrow.

But what do we do?

We pry open the iron door where we know

to go

up or down.

Laughter subsides

and we all arise

awakened to the choices

awakened by the voices

of the children  playing

and the trees are swaying

away from the collusion

and much confusion

form the place where we know

to go

neither up nor down.

— Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers


Today I Am One Day Old

Today I am one day old. Wendy Hurd LilyTiger Creative

My entire Facebook feed is filled with joy. It was probably that way before but today it is becoming a part of me. I no longer see it as other people’s joy. I see it as a reflection of my joyful essence. Such is life after re-birth. Today I am one day old. And I am crying again.

Free and alive more than I have ever known.

Goosebumps all over. The rays of light exploding from within.

I woke up this morning thinking of ways to express my essence of joy. Amusement park? Go-karting? Spending time with children at the zoo? Watching cartoons? And then I realized I don’t need any of those external stimuli. For what that does is suck the joy out of me. I find joy inside where it is peaceful and simple. Just as a child would sit and be with the blanket, the warmth of a solar embrace.

I am one day old. I am Wendy. Wendy Who Walks with Wildflowers. It is the name given to me by an ancient tree of the forest.

The simple joys of today: waking up. Feeling the comfort of the bed. Recalling the cat coming up to me in the middle of the night and kissing my cheek. Something he has never done before. Gratitude for having food to feed the dog and cats. The cool air. The yard. The washer and dryer. The lights. Breath. Blood circulating. Dreams. Sitting on a stool in the middle of the kitchen tasting the peanut butter chocolate sea salt fudge. Releasing the thought that I see myself owning a shop in Arizona called Prickly Pear Petunia. A confectionery where the sweets are the golden nectar of life. A joyful vision of a different dimension. It happens somewhere. I am with it in spirit.

Do one-day-old infants dream of such things? Do their cries communicate the frustration of not being able to take action to realize their dreams? That they are totally reliant on their care givers?

May all know they are love, loved and loving. Experiences come and go. Alignment with what we know comes and goes. The power within us is a gift. Receive it with the grace and ancient wisdom that the sun is the warmth that cradles our souls. And we are the sky connected to the infinite source.

Sounds Like Falling Tears

Guidance and angels surround us all. I found myself asking Super G, my super hero grandfather in spirit, how he was going to hold my hand for the next steps. How was he going to protect me from a lifetime of being violated? Nothing was coming through . . . silence.

The silence of falling tears. Cease the constant mind chatter that covers up the deep sadness. Under the surface a wonder awaits.

I drove along the highway on my way to the Spirit Walkers November Full Moon Celebration. 23 minutes to my destination. It had been months since the last time I had gone to a full moon celebration. Not sure why other than I felt irritated with myself. Today was different, today everything aligned.

I found myself standing in front of the mirror looking at myself and thinking, “You are ok just the way you are.” Which, at the moment, meant to not put make up on and not harshly judge myself or my clothes. A simple sweater, yoga pants, scarf and moccasins would do.

Turns out, the lack of make up = no mask. I left my mask on the shelf at home and showed up at the full moon ceremony as I am.

As I am now. Wendy, age 55. Without the mask. Free.

At the ceremony, I transformed during one of the experiences. A man named Horse who runs Three Feathers Farm, led the circle in responsive vs reactive consequences. Most of us stood on the West to declare publicly that which we choose to release. I publicly announced, “I am Wendy and I leave behind the sadness of a lifetime and beyond of not being loved. And I leave behind decades of being molested and raped.” I sobbed. Was I really doing this? The words that came out of my mouth were much different from what I had rehearsed in my mind.

In a circle of dozens of people and with a microphone in my hand. I said, “What does it sound like? It sounds like tears falling and the silence of no chatter to cover up the sadness.”

The mediator of the circle experience spoke powerfully. “It is no longer your story. You stand in the West and have done the work. Are you ready to release it? The story is no longer yours, it belongs to them. If you are ready, we will walk across the altar to the East. What will you find in the East?”

“Joy.” I looked him in the eye and sobbed.

He said “Today, November 4, 2017 is your birthday. For today you were reborn.”

I walked across the altar and into the East. Across the rug lying in the center of the circle. On the north and south were a sacred ceremonial blankets. In the center was a bear skin. I felt free. Paused on the edge of the rug. And then entered into my new reality where I am loved. Where I am treated with loving kindness and respect by all.

“I feel like dancing.”

“Well then dance!”

Every cell in my body was dancing. I shook uncontrollably like a leaf for the next hour. Standing in the East crying for all the people in the circle that let go of that which no longer serves them.

I now integrate joy into my life. Wendy, age 55. I am no longer the stories of the others that did not love me the way I deserve to be loved. I am simply the essence of how I am created to exist.

Thank you for your time.


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