On doubt, indecision, and the desire to be of this world

I have been bitten by the bug of doubt and her venom is percolating throughout each one of my veins, slowly but frantically sipping from the sweetness of my soul. What if she sips too much and suddenly I am withered away to nothing? A shell of all I used to be. She is leering  inside me and I do not know how to vacate her without tearing the skin from my body. She is loud! She is cold and sharp and intent on pricking me with intrusions at each and every sign of weakness. And sometimes I’m tired, and lacking whimsy, and I might spend mere seconds willing the world away before she jumps in and hijacks the whole thing. Suddenly it is not the world I am willing to leave, but the cycles and fluctuations of my own self, my own being, which is seemingly not enough for simply being but must be doing lest she wither away and become nothing. I feel like a nesting doll, within me all the potential shells I might wither away into, waiting patiently for my inevitable demise. The onion rots as she ages and if nothing is done with her, then the pungency of her layers retreats. She is no longer fragrant, no longer brimming with potential, I am like an onion, slowly losing its potential. I am pleading with the universe to use me! To add me to a stew or a broth or a roast and allow me to infuse all that I am with the world around me. Guide me towards a Sunday dinner, where the perfumes of my leaves uplift and radiate. I am willing to leave all that I am, to live in the potential of what I might become. 

I will not expand if I do not believe I am capable of expansion. I know this to be true within every fibre of my being- yet, still I doubt. I am sitting here with a pervading sense of anxiety rippling through my nerves. There is a part of me that is ungrateful, fearful, discontent, longing for more, longing for less, wondering if I will ever find a way to exist in this world without feeling deeply unsettled. There are only so many changes I can make to my external environment, before recognising that the problem exists within. I am willing my heart to be open to more, to receive that which she has denied herself for so long- but the body and mind seem to rally in their objections. They are misguided protectors, intent on preserving the soul that was once exiled from this world, and now as I reach my arms out to reclaim her, I am met with protest upon protest upon protest. I wish to place blame upon the world for this sense of inadequacy, wondering if it is not me that is at fault but rather a society that is simply not capable of seeing the magic within this vessel. But if this is true, why then do I feel so afraid of showing up for myself? Of committing to myself? Of putting all that I can and all that I am towards the full enactment of my potential. My body is resistant and reluctant and recalcitrant. 

I suppose it is a good thing that I am stubborn in all aspects of self. Perhaps what is needed is simply a reframing of the traits that I deem hold me back, to encourage their skills to be put to better use. And what better use would that be? At the moment of writing this, there is a song excavated from the depths of my being making its way into the world. Within Glass Bridges, I have found a container that allows me to navigate the intensity of these bodily experiences through song, and this particular ode is no different. In the process of describing this first single, ‘Pray’, I have said that it is about moving from a perspective of self-focus to one of collective focus. These aspects of self so intent on protecting what is within, would be much better served protecting that which is without. It is only through the overcoming of my inner battles that I am able to take decisive and effective action in the world, to contribute to her transformation as a home steeped in the truest sense of love. I do not wish to exist within the vacuum of my own experience. I do not wish to see myself as solely individual, but rather as completely and entirely of this world, and the souls and beings that exist within it. These inner protectors, that have held me through so much, are the very entities that prevent me from the belief that I am part of something greater, of something bigger than just myself. 

So let this be an essay of intention. Tonight, I return to the stage with Glass Bridges after a potent and palpable period of inner transformation. These writings are not born only within this moment, but follow months of inner excavation in an attempt to reveal the root of inadequacy that lives within me. Or rather, in an attempt to reveal exactly how to uproot these parts of myself. As I sit here, willing my being to celebrate all that we have accomplished so far, I recognise that this transformation is entirely dependent on choice. There are two versions of self colliding, and although tempting to define it as a battle, it feels more accurate to say it is a process of integration- merging all that I have been with all that I have the potential to be. Perhaps paradoxical, but I find no other understanding to be as true. I do not wish to dishonour or disown the parts of myself that have known pain and grief and violence. These protectors have served the purpose of their initial intention, and now, older, wiser, and eager to be of this world, wholly and completely, I urge them to take up a different mantle. 

In the most ideal circumstances, these gremlins and protectors that live within my being would be best served as librarians of sorts- organising and filing the realms of my inner being so meticulously, that the chaos within my nervous system is stilled. I do not wish to silence her, nor take away from all that she is, but I do wish to guide her towards a way of being that is entirely more fulfilling. I wish to feel confident in myself, in who I am, and in all that I offer to the world. I wish to know so fully the sanctity of my being, that it permeates into every aspect of this existence. I wish to hold the human experience in deep reverence, to know that all which moves through me is divinely sanctioned by the miracle of this existence. I wish to be a soldier for love, to raise a mantle of inclusion, acceptance, and of liberation for all beings that walk this earth. It is only through freeing myself of the shackles that bind me, that I am able to support in the creation of a new world- to step out of all that which holds me back so that I may help others do the same. 

Today, I choose to believe that all I am, and all I create, is enough. I am exactly as and where and when I am supposed to be. I commit to trusting the ever-unfolding rose of this human experience. I commit to all I am, and all that this world has the potential to be. I commit to love, to serve, to dream, and to deeply know that all which is imagined may be created through the intentional will of our beings. I am doing my best, you are doing your best, and that is all that will ever be required of us. We are born to love, so let us be love. I choose love. 

Who am I? But Whimsical

I do not know how to define who I am without also acknowledging that I am continually evolving. I have been many versions of me. This current iteration, at the time of writing this, stands at a threshold of actualisation, beyond which all her dreams are made manifest. It is a potent time, it is a magical time, and all that I am calling forth is born within the very depths of my soul. I hold a gift in the palm of my hands, in the marrow of my bones, in the crimson tide of my blood, and know, understand, and accept the truth that I exist here to offer her forward. My path is one of service, to myself, to others, and to the divine essence that permeates every aspect of this existence. Within the realms of all I that I am, is so too an image that lives within the collective unconscious. I speak her language, I swim in her waters, I am intimately familiar with all stories she wishes to tell and allow myself to be a vessel for all that she brings forth, with humility, grace and the wisdom to know that these stories are not mine alone to hold. 

Tarot has held a significant position within my life for the past 7 years. I fell upon her teachings in a period of immense transition, through which my heart, my body, and my soul remerged from their slumber to rediscover the light, and the love, that exists within this universe. The cards, their symbols and colours, their myths and fascinations, their undeniable esoteric scent that calls towards curiosity, allowed me to ground the understanding of what I now define as my first experience of the realms of spirit. I have been tending to our relationship in the years since, devoutly committed to learning all that she is, and all that she shares in light of the human soul. I am still her student, as I am always sure to be, but 7s exist as harbingers of lessons learnt, and I understand that I am being initiated into a new stage of practice- where all that I have learnt is shared earnestly, passionately, and with the specific intention of fostering love where ever I am called. 

The LimeTree Tarot began as a seed just over 4 years ago, and in the time since has only just begun to bear fruit. All that I share within this container, whether readings, or writings, or paintings, is born with a desire to foster the evolution of the human spirit, to support her growth and expansion. I can only offer from what I know, and so each practice shared here has been intimately discovered through the trials and tribulations of my own journey. I trust in what I offer because all that I offer here has supported, held and guided me through the depths of the underworld. The cards, the voice, the touch, have shown me the way towards trusting a life created from and within the truest of loves. In this moment, I am a human and soul, reaching out her hands and offering gold that was once hidden by lead. I want to inspire, to engage, to empassion, and to remind both myself and others that there is always magic present if we allow ourselves to be shown where to look. I am also a bit of a nerd about the language of the universe, and synchronicity and this is also a beautifully awesome way to connect with others over that. This is my purpose, my soul has been calling out to it for years and I am only just now taking the reigns and saying lets fucking goooo!!!

All my love, 

Simona :)

Impending Doom and the Crossing of Thresholds

It is Monday morning and all I feel is an impending sense of doom. Unspecified, untied, a sensation floating through the ether- my body has decided to latch here as though it is the source from which she receives her milk. A sensation that lacks sustenance, substance, subsistence. Look how the bones of my soul have withered! See how the soles of my feet have calloused! I have walked when unmoved to escape this impending doom, not pausing to consider her actuality. Are you real? Are you true? Or are you a fabrication as a means for protection? Preempting every misstep in order to outrun annihilation, as though the shoulds of this world have convinced both you and I that we are not safe within her holding. Are you doom? Or fear in the guise of vigilance? For if you are fear, then I am your origin, and the breast from which this body has been drawing her milk is my own. 

I stand at a precipice, a threshold, an ushering in of a new season of existence and an honouring of all that has passed before. I am hesitant and afraid, yet entirely ignited by the Lovers that lay before me. They beckon me forward, to be brave, to be bold, to claim the life that my soul has written. I worry about the details. I worry about the steps. I worry that I am not good enough or ready enough or true enough to walk out of the dream and into reality, with all that I am in tow. They tell me I can take the dream with me- but a protest erupts in my body at the thought. Impossible! Unheard of! Stories of disbelief fire along all neurons, synapses active and alive, furiously commanding that we cannot, we must not! To venture beyond the confines of our walls, of our safety, of our tentatively crafted haven, would mean certain doom for all that we are. The world is harsh and cold and unforgiving, says my body, as though all that has been is all that will continue to be. 

The threshold is not new, it has not arrived in my life uncalled, unprompted, uninvited. I have danced around her for years, kicking stones over her edge to test the distance of the fall. I have heard no sound, no song, no ripple of water reach out to me from her depths. A silence, full and pregnant, and brimming with all that i might one day be. This is all she offers. Her call is subtle, energetic, somatic, and sometimes I think the impending sense of doom I feel is not an evil, but more a calling so grand and so divine and so powerfully potent, that the version of me which exists now cannot help but be afraid. As a child, I was most terrified of my imagination in the dark. Some nights were sleepless, overwhelmed and terrified by the creatures and shadows that emerged from behind my eyes. I couldn’t control it- if I pulled at a thread of thought, her entire essence would come pouring through in an instant, my mind and my heart awash with demons and devils and desperation. I found solace in my sister's bed for a time, and whilst the presence of those I love will always be an antidote to the horrors, still the horrors persist. 

So, let it be said that there is a presence within my body that is inclined towards interpreting fear as an evil. As a nightmare. That when I am thrown into the flux of the unknown (by storm or by self), an immediate assumption is made that it will be horrifying, painful and unlikely to provide the fruits I am wishing for. I cling to safety. I convince myself to cling to safety. I see myself convince myself to cling to safety- and I understand. There is a part of me, still a child, still an innocent, still entirely undeserving of the pain inflicted upon her. Still confused, still floundering, still begging and praying and wishing to be safe. To feel safe. And where I used to feel frustration, and sometimes anger, with her unwillingness to expand, the dominant voice within me now is soothing, spacious, and understanding.  There was a time in my life where I would force myself to act, punish myself into success, and berate myself to build momentum. There was a time when I believed I did not deserve to be loved, an inherent flaw within me rendering me unlovable. There was a time when I saw the scared and lonely parts of myself as a nuisance, and did all that I could to sever our ties. I have betrayed myself as much as, if not more than, all those who betrayed me in turn. I have dismissed myself as much as, if not more than, all those who have dismissed me in turn. I have hurt myself as much as, if not more than, all those who hurt me in turn. My heart breaks for the version of me who thought she was entirely undeserving of safety and love, even from within herself. 

As I stand at this threshold, this precipice, this ushering into all that I am becoming- I am hesitant and fearful. I am disbelieving and doubting. Almost every impulse in my body tells me to turn back, to step away, to find peace along some other road, where the expansion of all that I am does not require me to jump. I have run before, and I may run again, but there is no denying my repeated return. Curiosity, excitement, arousal- impulses within my body that pull me forward as though a Siren calling softly:

This is all that you wish for,

This is all that you need.

Beyond the edge of this threshold,

A soul, set free.

I am singing these words to myself at each moment. I am holding the hand and the heart of my inner child, standing boldly and bravely at the edge of this threshold- telling her that I’m scared too. I am looking into her eyes, and drying her tears. I am sitting with her, holding her, loving her, supporting her- until she tells me she is ready to jump, I will not jump a moment before. Gone are the days of flagellation, replaced only with the sweetest of admirations and adorations. When I write about slowing down, it is not because I believe the fast pace nature of my spirit is wrong or out of place- but because I recognise a part of myself, of my body, of my being, is longing to feel safe, to move from a place of safety. And although I am beautifully and wonderfully blessed to be loved in the way that I am but all those I cherish so dearly, I know that it is only I, only me, only the we that lives within this body, that can decide how we get to be loved. 

And so I see the doom that rears its head this Monday morning, and I raise you love. I raise you ‘what ifs’ steeped in the divine magic of this existence, and suggest to myself the possibility that this which I dream of so constantly, is true, and not only true- but imminent, here. I see the fear and the hesitation and the procrastination, and I say we have time for it all. Nothing can deny you the truth of your soul, nor the truth of your path. All is unfolding exactly as is meant to, and although you may feel wobbly and uncertain, like wandering through unfamiliar forests in the dark, remember that you are born from this very soil. This existence was forged through imagination itself, and the divinity within you is its own source of life. Its own source of magic. There is a world you are building within your heart and your mind, and spirit is supporting you to build it within the earth. Trust in all that you are, in all that you are here to become. Take your time, and trust that you will. You always do. I say this to myself, and on this Monday morning, I walk into life with a certainty in my step, and a mission on the tip of my tongue. No doom in sight.