“We are all butterflies. Earth is our chrysalis.”
― LeeAnn Taylor
A chrysalis spills open.
Here we are. The moon swallowing the sun in a total solar eclipse (December 14). A twenty-year cycle closing. A 200-year cycle opening.
Yet another round of letting go in the penultimate year of letting go. We shed old skin and walk out of one life to start another.
I don’t know about you but I feel as though I am unzipping a dress (my old life) and leaving it on the floor for someone to find later.
Do you feel it, too?
We are passing through a cosmic birth canal. A pinprick of light is becoming larger and larger; the booming outside is getting louder and louder.
I find myself shaking; I am a bud just starting to open, a fragile winged-thing taking shape as I rush toward — what is that? A star? Jupiter and Saturn dancing? A meteor shower?
Frightened by all this clanging and banging, by the hubbub and the shouting and the pushing and the fray, I wonder if I am finally ready for all this.
Am I ready for a blast of other-worldly light?
Am I ready to rip myself open and spin tales?
Am I ready to tell stories of transmutation, and traveling for eons, and shaking off my wet wings to air them out, as they glisten on my back inside this terrible brightness?
Am I ready to breathe in this strange new land where I find myself?
The clock on this former world is winding down. The sand in the hourglass swirls as it falls.
We are leaping into the void.
Some of us may feel everything shift. Some of us may feel nothing.
Some may remain stuck in the lower worlds of greed, anger, and stupidity.
But for those of us who’ve listened to the wild call of the wind and the stars for as long as I have, this is not just an expected reckoning – it is a rebirth. This is a promised place where the ground underfoot gives way and we learn to fly.
We’ve always been able to. We just didn’t know it.
We’re Galactic, multi-dimensional beings. We’re connected to everyone and everything.
Our stories matter. Our songs thrum and circle and resonate, lifetime after lifetime after lifetime.
We’re sacred kin.
If you’ve found your way to these words, we have known each other before and we will know each other again.
We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
Soon, we will emerge into a changed world.
My breath catches in my throat as I ponder the enormity of what’s transpiring now.
I remember the first tentative messages I channeled 22 years ago while living in a tiny apartment a block from Sunset Strip in Los Angeles. I realized messages were flooding through me and as I wrote them down, their kind, encouraging, warm words gave me a sense of what was possible in my life.
Those messages helped me pick myself up and make something of my life.
They helped me recover from horrible grief and loss. They helped me see the road I needed to take.
They led me to teaching, to writing, to moving my work life online, to finding a comfortable place to settle and build a handmade life.
I don’t know what’s next.
Right now, I can only see what’s falling away.
I see my baby-bird-like mother sitting in her ratty green chair, eating waffles I made her, with light on her face as she heads into 2021. For her, this is the threshold of her 86th circle around the sun.
Her mind is like a hive of honey bees. Sometimes she’s calm, sometimes she’s impossible.
Aren’t we all?
She reminds of where I came from. She reminds me of how far I’ve come.
She’s the person who has held my hand for a lot of this particular incarnation.
I hope she lives to see this new age bloom.
This stark life, this deep breath, this winged flight – is upon us.
© 2020 Shavawn M. Berry All rights reserved
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