Salt in the Heart wound... travels of the wounded Healer
Image - Jenna Denise
There is something to discovering that the over arching theme of your birth chart is attached to the archetype of the Wounded Healer. That and the lines that clearly mark you as wounded, broken, at a young age, and the slow alchemization of that pain and suffering into soul speak. I have been mulling over and over the spiritually divined phrase, "This is your medicine to give to the world." In my heart, I have long wondered if that deep twinge of sadness will ever wash out, or if that is an eternal part of me, ebbing and flowing and aching; equal parts melancholy and poetic. I wonder if that is the Ocean seed within my heartspace, for it taps into the feeling I get staring out to sea; at once I am lonely and still connected to everything, meaningful and yet insignificant. Is that my wound that never heals? Seeing as how I pilgrimage to the ocean to release at times in my life, I begin to acclimate to that idea; knowing at once the great worth it provides to my soul as well as the world as the ocean streams out of my veins, my eyes, and my mouth.
"Perhaps it is time to go to the sea. For there always was too much of the dreamer in me..." - Joey Morris 'Wanderer.'
Love is a strange concept in spirituality. There is an incredible drive to classify and sanitize the concept, or else damn it completely. Love is either the great healer, the great saviour, or nothing at all in the minds of people, who do not seem keen to let the concept flow in waves. Love can be a strange poison, filling our lungs, leaving us gasping and drowning, and it can be the moment of resilience and resistance against losing ourselves in a world of hardship and difficulty.
It certainly shows us our shadows. Where we feel we are lacking, whether or not we are deserving of love, and brings us into contact with some of the ugliest facets of the human condition. I grew up with the poisonous lesson ringing in my ears that 'women couldn't be trusted, especially with your man.'
This was an ill-gotten lesson that my mother preached, and one I tried (and continue to try) to ignore, the problem with that being, of course, there are people who will happily seek to invade the private love realm between partners. I don't think this is gender specific, personally. I think it's a epidemic of human entitlement and echoes of jealousy.
This is my wound for Spring time. Knowing that my own heart is fallible and hurts deeply, sometimes more deeply than merited, watching silently as individuals lay words at the door of my relationship that I would never in a million years say to their partner, should they have one. Wondering when is enough, when it is intuition speaking versus when the wound hurts and burns a little too much and requires an ocean visit.
I watch words, with interest, seeing the patterns behind them. Virgo mind recognizes behaviour way in advance and will (verbally or not) whisper 'I told you so,' when it comes to pass.
That and the instinct from having a finger on the witch pulse. I sit and watch the games people play with words, and I tighten, wounded, and my teeth draw back and I snarl in disgust at it all. Do you think no-one sees? Do you think you're clever, causing this harm? So I go back to salt and cleanse my pain.
The problem arises when we create the worst from expectation. There is a fine line between truth-sighting and manifestation. A line which must be sprinkled with salt to purify the energy. Witches and spiritual seekers have to be careful with that.
I know, as that Wounded Healer, the root of it all though. People can always take my happiness, because I am not enough.
That is the nasty voice in the back of the head, carving at the wound with venom, feeling that emptiness within the chest and tears drop in the acknowledgement. And though I cannot fathom, nor speak, as to why some people do chase the happiness of others in order to supplant or destroy, I guess all I can do is return to the sea.
Speak my medicine once more to the waves, and hear their answer. Because the promise of the Sea is in my very name, for those with the Other eyes to see it.
And so I remember:
I am strong. I am powerful. I am enough.
Many blessings, Starlet