Returning From Exile
At some point in the process of self-exploration, we encounter the necessity of reclaiming parts of ourselves that have been lost, or have been disowned. This work needs to be honoured. It's not easy.
These parts of us...some of them may have been in exile for decades, waiting for their moment, waiting for their chance to return. Wherever it is that they've been, we can feel safe to assume there wasn't a Tesco Local there. Wherever they've been biding their time has probably been pretty basic; it's likely been about survival.
So these aspects often don't come back to us very cultured or civilised. They return with all their rough edges and flinty corners intact. They come trailing clouds of glory and chaos in equal measure. Primitive feeling hangs around them like musk.
Acquiring the skill of reintroducing these exiled characters into polite society isn't necessarily going to be a straightforward business. Our first attempts are often messy...unexpected things happen. The first fledgling steps out into the world will likely involve a few toes being trodden on, at the very least. Sometimes, to our dismay, we find we have trodden on a landmine. Their reappearance in our lives becomes like a bomb going off, with all the collateral damage that implies.
At this point we experience a painful initiation. We discover that these initial stages - during we risk showing these parts of ourselves again - can often be the point at which our original wound gets recreated in some way. We find ourselves living through a re-enactment of the event or the circumstances that caused this part of ourselves to go underground in the first place.
There is an opportunity here - if we can stay with the process, if we can bear the material that is arising in us - to integrate something which was previously unbearable or indigestible. There is an opportunity to become a little more whole.
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