Written by Vanessa Anderson
There are times when we all feel like we want the world to stop for a moment, just so we can breathe again, think again, feel again – without watching the clock, without sacrifice, without trade-offs. For whatever purpose this feeling imposes – listen.
It is but a symptom for something far greater and as much as medication treats a symptom, wishing the world would stop for just one moment is but a plaster covering a deeper wound. Yes, the world it seems is spiralling, for some, it is a deeper, darker more dangerous world – but they are yet unaware of its powers, for others, it is a lifting of a veil, equally deep, just as dark, but one where there is light, love and a world I cannot even begin to describe.
You will know it only by the feeling, because all the words you know, could not yet possibly describe that place we have forgotten, home.
So, we are told to hold on.
Hold on, it is in the words, hold – but to what do we hold on, too?
I went to be last night, perchance to sleep, but a dreadful migraine had me trying to hold my body still for the throbbing behind my eyes. I remembered a pressure point below my eyebrows and fell asleep head in hand, a reprieve for a moment until in rest my hands fell and my body moved. It was a fitful sleep.
When I woke, I remembered to hold the pressure point between my thumb and forefinger. It was an odd recollection, for at the time I mused how little we touch our own hands, in comfort. How little we touch our self in love, yet this is how we hold on. This is how we hold the world back for a moment. This is how we escape the vortex that will have us seeking reprieve.
We hold on.
We remember that we actually hold our thoughts in our hands.
When last did you hold your own hand in comfort, whispering, I am here for you.
When last did you touch your face and speak of your beauty and your grace?
When last did you grasp your feet in your hands and hold yourself together – giving and receiving in an infinite loop.
When last did you rest your hands upon your head and feel the wisdom beneath your fingers?
When last did you lay your hands upon your chest and feel the rise and fall of your breathe?
When last did you speak to your soul as if it was the most beautiful being in existence?
You are a being of light; a healer in your own right. I read something this week, it said, ‘I don’t have any magic to give you. I am here to lead you back to a place where you can remember your own”. I wish I had written that myself, but I couldn’t claim the credit. It did remind me though, that I am most capable.
I am here to remind you.
As I write this, I am sitting under a tree, beneath the chattering of birds, white splashes of colour against a blue sky. I sit beside the bees working their magic among the flower blooms in my garden, my lanky ginger familiar (Oliver Bean, Olliepollie, the Oluspolus –he of many names) washing himself on my right – my shadow gauge who has held vigil during my blue phase. As I sit here crafting this message I am reminded that I must practice what I preach.
I will make time to dry my hair in the sunshine, absorb the warmth and splendour of the day. I will make time to feel heat of the day and the promise of growth beneath my toes. I will sit still, feet in hand honouring the sacred circle, honouring my power.
When ‘I’ is done, when you are ready, pull up a pillow, let’s hold hands, we will wait for others and in the meantime, we will hold on!