What it’s like to feel. To feel yourself. To face yourself. To have life times of karmic trash burped to the surface.
For the past few years I have been calling in a suspension ritual, not fully understanding what that entailed, just knowing it was something my Spirit was longing for. Being summoned to the Isle of the Gods - Bali Indonesia - the opportunity came knocking like rolling thunder.
To face yourself. To know yourself. To bring it all to the surface. To either face it or bury it back in the depths of the sub conscious. This moment to be summoned into presence has been a long time in the manifestation. Little did I know what it would actually mean.
Hooks - big ones - the size of pencils. Skin pinched and pulled. One smooth slide. Sweat, lots of it. The feeling of instantly having to purge. A moment. Another moment. Paused. Back into breathe. Standing. Ropes inserted into the top of the hooks. Tension is pulled out of the rope. Hooks rise. Skin stretches. Panic. Fear. Panic. Fear. Anxiety. Flushed, flushed, feelings. Flush flush flush, over and over. My childhood. Why me? Why this pain? Abuse. Violation. My step dad? My mom? I was just a child, what did I do? Why am I locked in the closet? Why am i standing in this corner? Why am I eating my own vomit? I don’t like beets, they make me gag, why am I forced to eat this?
Trama to the surface. A demon inside. A demon inserted. Unexpected reflection.
Toes curl hanging onto the earth, trama and fear flooding thru my veins. Rope pulls, my mind’s desperate clutch. I can’t do this. I can’t let go. I’m not strong enough. I’m weak, I’m inferior, I desired it all, I can’t forgive, I hurt. Stop. I’m done. Feet never make it off the ground, I sit into myself. Moments, breathing. ‘Again’ he says, ‘again.’ Tension pulls out of the rope. Skin begins to pull. No I can’t, I can’t do it. The process begins again.
Standing at the gates facing myself, facing my trama. There’s only me and myself here. My mind grasps at everything it can. The deepest, darkest parts of my soul are at the surface. Do I run away or do I face my dragon. I never expected this. Moments pass. Up and Down, never leaving the Earth, hanging on. Another big breathe into myself. One long, slow pull. Toes gripping, curling, grasping. In one moment, my feet leave the Earth. Detached.
I am filled with love. Filled with forgiveness. In one moment. I rise from the ashes, my body is now fully suspended in the air. Time stands still. A rippling of micro layers in front of me like stacked ocean waves of energy. No more pain. No more suffering. In one moment of letting go, surrendering- instead of fighting.
All I had to do this whole time was let go. Let go of the story. Let go of the idea. The pain was in the story, the story was the pain.
.Free.
This Ritual is an Ancient Ritual called Suicide Suspenion - It represents the death of ego and the connection of spirit to God.
Thank You for your time.
With Love,
@awakentotheone