There is a certain dormancy that comes with the everydayness of life. We enter a realm that no longer requires presentation of the soul but an automation of being. It is as if the layers of snow build up a huge cloak around us, and we continue to drift through a hazed torpor. We are drunk on the notion that this is how life should be. I myself have been in a form of dormancy, asleep for at least the last 12 years. Drifting through a system of jobs, and following the well worn path of human aspiration drilled into us from birth. After university, and a few failed attempts at wild dreams, I fell into the work-eat-sleep repeat pattern. A life that was expected. Ensured I was on a training programme that led me to a respectable job, with good prospects, chances of promotion. The salary rolled in, the holidays came by. The every day chatter at the weekends, the grocery shop. How life should be.
But two weeks ago, I quit my job.
Within popular culture there are numerous references to humans sleep walking through life. King Theoden in Lord of the Rings, imprisoned by a curse that no longer allows him to see his bravery, merely nod and conform to a life of no value. Or the cybermen in Doctor Who, individuals carelessly wiring up their ears to a system they don’t really know anything about, before they all walk in tandem. I always imagine that in these scenarios there still remains a seed, a gnawing, a wish to overcome. I think we all have that, but sometimes it might appear as a restlessness, or arguments with our partner, a dissatisfaction that we try to quell with material objects or even relationships. Relationships that fit us like an oversized jacket, keeping us warm but still letting in the rain.
It is not that I do see any value in a job, because goodness, in this day and age we all need one. It brings me a deep sadness that the way life has been built means we are chained to individualism, a need to constantly become higher and higher in our jobs to earn more money and that this is praised without thought, whether that’s something we really want, whether it really serves the purpose that our soul came here to live. I am a believer that we are all souls having a human experience. Souls from the collective, here to nurture the fruitfulness of life, but have somehow lost our way. It has helped me greatly to think of it from this perspective If my soul has one shot at experiencing this human life, at service, is this really the path, is this what she came to see and do? I realised pretty quickly that the answer was no. We all have a gift to give that supports the world, and that the robotic nature of human life has meant that we are all moving further and further away from this, from the magic, from service and from community in the belief that pedalling in our job serves.
At the weekend, I attended a community garden (more details on this in a later post). I had such a wonderful time, there was such a spirit of the collective, of tending the soil and plants with love, building areas so wildlife may flourish. I felt like a cog in an ecological wheel that benefitted everyone from the worms in the soil, to the butterflies ready to pupate in the trees. And as we sat drinking tea, and eating bread and jam, I thought this is it. This is life. Being part of something that I felt mattered, honouring the universe and its many connections. I could feel my soul dance. When I returned home and excitedly shared my findings with my mum, how cosy it was and how encouraging it felt to be part of something bigger, part of a collective that was in tandem with the universe she said “But that isn’t real life”. Wow. I was shocked. We have all driven so far down the metaphorical garden path of what life has told us reality should be that community, connection to nature and being part of the universal song is seen as alien. My mum of course meant this with love, she, along with my dad, are always keen for me to settle, get married, have a house, move in such a way they were trained to know as the ideal. I think she worries if I step out of that, unhappiness awaits me. When actually it is the opposite.
In April 2020, in the midst of the first lockdown. I woke up one night in sheer panic. A panic that seemed uncontrollable. Having not felt a panic attack like this since my early twenties my 34 year old self was in shock. Crying heavy child like sobs, my body physically shook. When I reread my diary at this time I referred to it feeling like the first night Scrooge meets Marley “You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!” I was desperately trying to rationalise this feeling that I was having, not a piece of beef in sight, being resolutely vegetarian, I knew it was not this. The ghosts were upon me, and I felt it certain the universe was telling me something would happen, that I would die. I spent the night, writing pages and pages in my notebook, having not written properly in a diary since I was a child. On reflection now, I realise that it was that moment that began my death and rebirth. Perhaps it was the pandemic, perhaps the pandemic was part of a wider plan, perhaps it wasn’t but whatever it was left me with a night where I was fully humbled. I wrote page after page about everything I loved, from authors, to paintings, to moments in the sun, sounds, sights, and passions, all spilling onto the page. The stirring had begun. Although not a Scrooge to begin with the essence was the same, a reflection on the past, what I had lost, what I had loved, and what I had left to give.
I was led down a path that led me to classes and workshops that introduced me to meditation, and the grace of spirituality, to teachers so worldly wise, that every word to me was like gold etched across my soul. Slowly my views of the world unravelled. I learnt how I had become separated from community, how lonely I really was. How the feeling of dissatisfaction that had resided deep in my belly for so long had not been something that should be accepted, but a deep misalignment with a purpose that had been within me since the beginning of time. Sitting in circles with individuals who could articulate every niggle, every feeling in their body, freely discuss who they were and what they wanted was eye opening to me. In one of these circles, I remember sharing this amazement and that I felt as if I had a steel chamber locked around my own heart, and I didn’t appear to have the key to get in. Yoga teachers assisting me in postures were succinctly telling me the energy I was emanating with delicacy and warmth. Crouched like a scared cat unsure of where she was headed, locked in tension fearful of what would happen if I allowed flow to really happen. There were nights under the stars, sunrise walks almost daily, deep deep reading, journaling, reconnection with nature in a way I could see beyond the physical.
Quitting my job now feels like a culmination of this. And you should know I have no idea what I am doing. Am I worried I will have no money coming in after August? Yes. Am I concerned I will have no where to live in 6 months? Definitely. Do I still hear a voice that occasionally tells me that I should be sensible? Of course. But I no longer feel the niggle of dissatisfaction, I feel as if my soul is running, making excited leaps at every decision I make that becomes more aligned to who I really am. I feel such a deep trust in the universe, that it drowns the fears that arise in one fail swoop.
So this Imbolc, when the natural world begins to stir, the first sign of the seeds sprouting emerge, I am feeling my own stirring deep within me. I am drawn back to the stories of the shedding of Winter this year more so than any other. This year feels as if I am shedding decades, perhaps lifetimes of winter, and I have been yearning to read stories that show me the greater meaning to this moment. The Wolves of Willoughby Chase was one of my favourite books as a child, and I have often imagined that moment they are surrounded by wolves in the depths of the forest. I now see it differently, as if here they are surrounded by their fears but are being challenged to show their bravery and their courage.
So here I go, out into the wild. Knowing that no job awaits me. I am comforted by the stirring of the seeds within. The quickening within my soul. This Imbolc feels more special, I feel spring in my bones. To celebrate these next few days I will be lighting candles, cooking up seeded cakes and spending time listening as my soul feels the stir.
Imbolc blessings to you all. Sending love and courage always.