Iridescence, The Color Of Magic

A new blog post during a Mercury Retrograde.

Is that who we are? Just a composite of all the people we have met and our past associations?

What was our initial behaviour, our initial personality?

I have come to understand a part of the journey of discovering the untouched nature within. My goodness, it has been—it has been the deepest stroll I have ever taken, and unknowingly at that.

The easiest way to answer the above question appears to be to go to the person who has known me the longest and ask them what I was like when we first met. Although that option can provide insight and produce some writing on what feels like a blank map, their perspective would still be— theirs, ripe with their past associations.

Maybe I am naïve to think that it is possible to uncover the purity within us, the part of us that the world and everything within it has not influenced, but I genuinely feel that it is possible. And I recognize conversations surrounding inner child healing exists within this vein. So, I know what I am saying is nothing new or groundbreaking; however, I feel it is necessary to state because it has helped me find my voice.

I stopped writing several months ago because I struggled with deciphering my voice from the many I hear. “You can’t say that.” “That is embarrassing.” “Stop SWEARING!” I became silenced by all these regulations, guided by shame, guilt, and unacceptance. I became more critical of myself, and everything I encountered, and my reality slowly began to lack depth. I siphoned the magic, wonder, and iridescence I regularly saw with logic, probability, and facts. Imagine nearly all the colors you see drained from your daily experience. That was my reality for a little while.

A straw broke the camel’s back, and I became disillusioned. I allowed myself to believe that love did not matter and that magic was not real. And in that dampened state, I found it incredibly hard to see without distortions. All I saw was the past. I felt disempowered and small.

I no longer feel that way, and I am grateful.

Yesterday, I spoke about writing and how much I love to do it but that I had not yet found my voice. Now, here I am, speaking from the same voice I have always spoken from—the voice of my love.

I have found it challenging to integrate the gentle awareness of my ability to heal with the rough exterior of the world. I will do my best to remember that the deeper I allow myself to go, the softer everything becomes.

I am not designed to be on the surface.