Iga’latl
Surrender has no equivalent in the Micmac lexicon.
Release.
Allow yourself to relax.
Place.
Put.
Within 12 hours, my spirit spiraled through these four stages.
Release. Allow yourself to relax. Place. Put.
While walking on the beach at Condo’s Point this morning, I released and let go of fighter Trisha.
The words “release” and “let go” spiral in.
The human body does not operate on a traditional timetable. Yours doesn’t, either.
All energy is in motion at all times.
As I walked out of my driveway at midnight last night, I felt the lonely and isolated warrior in me holding on, and I wondered, “Why not me?”
“Go to sleep,” the medicine woman in me said.
I awoke with old roots still encircling my throat. My spirit was being choked by the foul energy that had sprung up.
“Drive and follow,” the medicine woman ghost said quietly.
“Get out of the car and follow,” the healer guides shouted as they plummeted in.
I exited and followed. My intellect couldn’t make sense of it. Not at all.
As I cried traveling down the wintery beach, the location where I grew up playing as a Micmac sensitive kid with my cousins in Gesgapegiag, so many “tales” were shedding their rotting roots from my spirit.
“I surrender,” repeated loudly, as if these were the final cries of the scarred warrior whooping out of my still-living body.
I gave the creator spirit a command.
“Show me what’s next, and I’ll do it,” I replied as I saw two birds descend into the water and soar to the Creator, the Sun. “I’m open to whatever my journey takes to.”
Wipeout.
A massive snowfall whiteout happened on the beach all of a sudden.
It was the sign to which I objected. I put my bruised past aside and entered the makeshift gateway.
This morning, I opened a temporary portal to my ancestors, guides, and the creator.
I felt really comforted as soon as I went into my car and heard female healer guides whispering and singing to me, and I did feel the warmth of the sun whisper, “Be YOU.” Write. It’s now or never. “Write, write, write,” she says.
It’s all set to go.
Write, write, and write some more.
Today, the creator’s magnificent spirit light shone brightly on me. And I felt a connection with you two.
“Write,” she said.
For you, I drove home and wrote this post.
Just remember that you aren’t alone. I sensed the compassion of the creator.
It’s time to let go and enter the portals, animal guides, guides, and gifts, knowing that the creator speaks with power to revive your spirit.
Have you been called to sacrifice your warrior self and listen for the call of the creator to arise?