It’s been a long time…

I didn’t realize how much I’d gotten away from posting until I wrote something today that I wasn’t quite ready to publish with Elephant Journal. But more so, I think I’m moving towards a different platform. I’m moving towards a space of writing for myself, not that I haven’t been along, but now it has more of an intention of “by myself, for myself” behind it.

You reach a point in life where you have to decide where you’re going and what needs to change to get there. There comes a time when picking up the pieces no longer makes sense; the puzzle becomes a new chapter and with it, the ability to recreate the entire story line, fresh. That’s not typical of most published stories – there’s continuity, there’s theme, there’s flow.

I’m finding myself standing square in the middle of my story and wanting a radical change. This is my first step in making that change.


“Fuck the Pieces. Make Your Own.”

It’s so tempting to try and put the pieces back the same way after everything falls apart. It’s so tempting to scramble and create chaos in a feeble attempt to create some kind of order.


We know that method has never worked. We know it, yet we do it, time and time again.


But then there comes a day…a day when things all of a sudden snap. They break. They shatter, and what we are able to gather from the million pieces of glistening, fragmented glass, even if only for a split second, is truth. We see flashes of things we’d rather not see; revelations about ourselves, our lives, our patterns and defense mechanisms. We see every single way in which we’ve tried to avoid what’s really going on inside.


We see that instead of swimming in our vast sea of sadness, we’ve been doing all we can to walk on water.


Think about that. It’s really fucking difficult to walk on water – impossible, some might say – but we do it. We do it to avoid every bit of emotion that we perceive as a weakness. Every single flare up of vulnerability that we interpret as something that may set us back, hold us down or become the key to our undoing. So we perform miracles and walk on water.


We perform miracles to avoid anything that will make us feel, anything that will break down the strict façade of strength and nonchalant attitudes we attempt to project. We’re crumbling inside, but we’ll do anything to avoid sinking to the depths that will bring us face to face with everything about ourselves that we just can’t face.


Know what though…all of those things we can’t face are our personal pearls. They’re our buried treasures of insight – all of those precious jewels that we deny because we think they’ll be the very keys to our undoing are exactly that, but in the most transformative, miraculous way. We talk about shedding skin and really becoming and being all that we can be, but when we’re too fucking terrified and in too much denial to really examine and accept ourselves for exactly who we are…too put it as raw as possible…we ain’t shit. Seriously – we ain’t fucking shit until we dedicate and commit to ourselves enough to fully explore, discover and accept all that we truly are, perceived weaknesses and pathetic routines and plastic defenses and all.


With this exploration comes chaos, always. There are all sorts of chaos – violent, exciting, invigorating, terrifying. But we see everything through the lenses of our personal perception, so we can choose to see the action of everything we’ve built crumbling as a tragedy. We can choose to see it as the floor going out from under us and our carefully laid foundation giving way.


But foundations were made to be broken and rebuilt. We can choose to see chaos through the lens of desperation and despair while we frantically scramble to put the pieces back together, or we can see it as an opportunity to smash the shit out of everything that has so clearly not been working; if things are falling apart, it’s because something isn’t working. And that something has been built upon and compounded by various other parts that haven’t been working, and in our attempt to make them work, we’ve just added to their instability and faulty design.


When I say faulty, I mean false, because when we find ourselves drowning in a sea of chaos, it’s because we’ve been denying our own vast, raging sea of chaos that’s been calling to us, begging to be excavated so it can be purified. Begging to be seen and acknowledged and most importantly, accepted, so that it too can continue its natural ebb and flow without all the weight of our emotional burdens bogging it down.


If chaos reigns, feed it by becoming it. Become the chaos by shirking the debris that it wants to claim. Lighten your load and give it what it wants, because it’s really here to help.


Accept the help. Accept everything its offering. At the same time, accept everything that you see, everything that’s rising from the depths. These are the true gifts – the mysterious reveals that, in all our self-awareness, we’ve failed to see. The revelations so obvious that we’ve failed to notice. But our failure to notice them doesn’t make them go away; on the contrary, it makes them stronger. It neglects them. It enrages them until they’ve built up enough power to create a tidal wave in the center of our being and completely level all of our plastic defenses.


Then we’re back at square one, which is exactly where we need to be.


Don’t panic. Don’t pick up the pieces. Create new ones, forged with the blood, sweat, tears and wisdom of the past, and build what your soul’s been screaming for…


Our future awaits us in the fragmented wake of our past…will you claim yours?

Courage to Be. ~ Jillian Locke

“Courage is hearing what’s really being said and accepting the truth for what it is, no matter how painful. It’s accepting, allowing and switching gears to navigate through what is actually happening rather than trying to stay on a course paved with fear and denial.”

Courage is never, ever giving up. No matter what.

I know what I’m searching for, 

Courage from you it keeps me pure.

I draw strength from watching you

Never give up you see it through.

~ Diecast


Creating New Personal Maps: the Path of the Ouroboros. ~ Jillian Locke

As we find ourselves half way through the last month of 2013 – the year of the snake – it’s important to realize that we’re not the same people we started the year as…

More likely than not, that’s a very, very good thing.


Release the Cracken! ~Jillian Locke

I had a pretty intense day yesterday. So, true to form, I wrote about it.

This is my first article for the EJ labeled “Adult” – I guess the subject matter is a bit more mature. I’m really grateful for everything that happened yesterday, though – it made me think and really re-evaluate…everything.


Hiraeth: Homesickness for a Place that Doesn’t Exist. ~ Jillian Locke

“I think home resides in the act of taking something born from darkness and baptizing it in the light of renewal. When you’re able to find peace within pain and build from it, manifesting something you never dreamed possible because it radiates so much fucking light and purity and love—that’s when you’ve come home.

Home isn’t a place; it’s a state of being.

Home is balance. Home is reconciliation. Home is forgiveness. Home is release.”

Vehicles of Healing. ~Jillian Locke

(I wrote this a few weeks back, during the time of the full moon…this is one of my most intensely personal pieces, and although I’ve been leery about posting it, I really feel it will do more good sharing it than letting not…)


I always said I would be the one to break the cycle. That’s exactly what I’m doing right now, and I need to take it easy on myself. This is hard fucking work. Grueling fucking work. This is the work that matters – changing and transforming energy patterns. Killing karma – throwing up a detour sign and redirecting traffic. I’m not traveling that worn out road anymore. There are so many ancient footsteps and wagon tracks that I can’t even see the path anymore.


Good. ‘Bout fucking time.


I feel like I’m being ripped out of my skin and my head. During yoga last night, I found myself entertaining thoughts of completely losing myself, of shedding every ounce of ego, every memory, every energetic watermark. Of being born completely anew, fresh and unburdened. Seeing life through new eyes – living life devoid of darkness. Seeing only the light, letting it cleanse me, purify me, make me whole again.


I think it’s a miracle that any of us are even remotely sane. It’s beyond fathomable to me that we all continue to get out of bed and do the things that must be done, day in and day out. We carry so much weight, so much heaviness – it’s amazing any of us are still upright at all.


I’m writing this the day after the full moon/lunar eclipse – a super-charged time of confrontation and release. I feel like I have so much to purge and I’ve only just scratched the surface. I feel like there’s a volcano of hurt and agony and damage burning inside of me and I’m barely keeping up with clearing the way for it to explode so that it doesn’t take me down with it.


Sometimes I feel like I’m living on borrowed time. Like I keep urging my life to begin, and the more I push it, the harder it pushes back.


Sometimes I feel like I’m nothing but a fuck-up, taking everything and everyone I know and love for granted.


Sometimes I feel like I’m going to crumble under this self-imposed, illusionary mass of unbearable weight.


This is the darkness. This is what always tempts you back, finger curling, beckoning you back into the twisted solace and comfort of complete break down and despair.


A good friend recently told me that there’s always been a darkness around me. The difference between now and when she met me five years ago is that I don’t stay in the darkness as long anymore, she said. I’m different – I feel different. I look different. I’ve changed. I’ve grown up.


Five years is an incredible amount of time in both the short and long sense. I was single for five years after leaving an emotionally manipulative relationship. I spent five years getting back to myself – everything that made me, me. I started writing again, building up my freelance career, interviewing my favorite bands, going to endless shows, surrounding myself with music, art and the people who shared my passions. I drank, I partied, I traveled, I wrote. I lost and found myself every day and every night.


But in spite of all that, I was still lost. I kept searching outside of myself for completion, for fulfillment. For validation.


Then I entered into my next long-term relationship. And it all started happening again. Losing myself, taking time away from my passions. Taking on someone else’s issues and and allowing that extra baggage to squelch my flame. Snuff my light. A heaviness began to settle into my chest and my mind. My eyes glazed over and I began to play the part. Rationalizing why I could go without such essential needs – affection, connection, understanding, a true, emotional, expansive partnership – in lieu of the illusion that I was fucked up, but at least this fucking gorgeous man accepted and loved me (he really, really did, and still does…in his own way), cause goddess knows no one else will.


But that only lasts so long. Well, for me, that only lasts so long. This was my first step in breaking the cycle I was born into. This was my first step in embarking on a true homecoming. The day I went to the woods and realized how much better life would be without this relationship was my personal day of reckoning. I don’t know how anyone does it – receiving intense revelations and epiphanies and ignoring them. I’ve never been that type of person who, once confronted with the truth, can simply walk away from it. Especially when it’s screaming from my heart – belting out piercing howls of agony through all the heaviness that had been doing a specFUCKINGtacular job of soundproofing them this entire time.


And I now I find myself here, again. Getting back to writing. Getting back to myself. Being confronted with the truths that I wasn’t ready to face until now. In the five years I was single before, all I did was run from any glimmers of awareness. I drank them all away. I did whatever I could to avoid them. Five years could have been five minutes for all the good that time did. Or, more accurately, for all the good (healing) I allowed in that time.


That’s why the notion of time is such an illusion. I know I’ve used that word a lot, but it’s so much more prevalent in our lives than we realize. We create these illusions of time periods in which we think it’s appropriate “time” to heal, appropriate “time” to strike out, to make a move, to take a chance. Appropriate “time” to let everything go and really get the fuck on with our lives.


We decide when the timing is right by making the most of it. By following our gut, which is in direct alignment with our heart. By truly listening, being present and acknowledging our inner promptings.


This time around, finding myself at the next level of my spiral, cyclical journey, I see a lot of similarities, but I see them differently. And that’s how we travel through time. We come back to our passions and our dreams and loves and desires, but we handle them with more care, infuse different, more experienced energy, and see what we can do with them at this new juncture. Because to not honor the varying rings of spirals and cycles, to not see them for what they are and truly appreciate them for all of the lessons they’ve delivered to us is to merely tread water, taking this most precious gift we’ve been given for granted in the most deplorable way.


We have second and third and fourth and fifth chances to change whatever isn’t working in our lives through every second of every day. We hold the power of choice and change in our hearts and hands. We all have roots, but what we don’t realize is that we have the power to pull them up and replant and re-situate them in any place and fashion we desire. Our hearts hold our roadmaps; our hands hold the immense potential and strength to dig and establish our roots in accordance with our true essence.


It’s up to us to release the weight and heaviness from our hearts and clear the way for communication to our next greatest vehicles of healing. It’s up to us to release and forgive ourselves so that we can step into love. Because that’s the ENTIRE point of this maniacal, glorious, miraculous experience.