My sacred totem
I once had a hypo therapy session where I was guided back to before I entered this life.
It was as if I was in a galaxy of stars when I accepted this mission.
And what was sent with me to help me in this life?
A journal and a pen.
Take what you will from my wild experience, but I truly believe pen and paper are my sacred totems given to me to be my life long companion.
I've always hated typing on a computer as a journal even though its quicker and easier.
Instead, I write pages and pages in ink, filling up rows and rows of my bookshelf with completed journals.
I never read them again.
It's not about remembering the story, it's not about being a great writer, and it's not about sharing my words with anyone.
It's about processing the significant moments for me that never seem to have a clear answer.
Sometimes I "chimney sweep" incessant thoughts to get them out of my head;
Sometimes I record my dreams and try to interpret them;
Sometimes I copy down meaningful words or texts or special moments;
and sometimes I write letters I'll never send.
I do believe everyone has a sacred totem or gift they're given to help them in this world;
Sometimes it's an animal, a love of running long distances, an artistic flair, a beautoful singing voice, a knack for pulling apart the lawnmower or a car engine and easily putting it back together again, a calmness when you're near the sea, or a grounded whimsy when you land in your favourite forrest.
Perhaps it's a best friend, a pet, a grandparent or a crazy Godparent, but there will be something or someone special bestowed upon you as your sacred companion.
In the confusing times, you may sit beneath your favourite tree.
In your times of longing, you may rock back and forth on your childhood swing you've carted from house to house since you were a child.
In the endless waves of grief, you sit at the oceans stoop and try to see where the water ends and the stormy sky begins.
When you're travelling and alone and lonely...
When you're travelling and alone and lonely, you reach for a pen, a paintbrush, scraps of paper or scrawl on the inside of your passport when you're desperate. When you have something legal to punch or compete for or throw as far as you can.
When the burdens of being a man are too much you grab your surfboard and ride the measly but comforting waves at your local groin.
When you have no wisdom left you remember the phone number of someone who does off by heart.
What ever it is that brings you home, treat it with respect and gratitude, and above all else, never forget your sacred gift.
Do you know what yours is?
