By Amanda Moreno

My normally quite introverted self has been surfing a wave of extroversion in the past two months, the likes of which I haven’t seen in years. I’ve been known to accuse extroverts of simply being avoidant — although the same could be said of introverts. In any case, I’ve felt a bit of avoidance, but I’ve also felt a lot of lust for life coming through.

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

Then I slowed down.

The other night my roommate was gone, and I had planned on having some people over for dinner. Instead, early in the day, I felt the call for silence. I was sitting in my office, working on a freelance-editing project I’m quite in love with.

And there it was — the need to just continue being in my own space, in the quiet, not interacting with anyone. I closed my eyes and was utterly aroused by the lack of sound, activity or anyone else’s presence in my home, and I wanted that lack of outside stimulation to continue. I even began a little Facebook and email fast. This alone time went through the night, and into the next morning and afternoon when it was interrupted by some obligations.

Here I am again today. I have more things planned out there in the world with people but I feel the exhaustion that comes with social burnout. I am sitting in my bedroom, waiting for some friends who live out of town to arrive, and it is crystal clear to me that my energy is burning its reserves and I should just stay in; but, alas…obligations. My therapist once informed me that I might have to get used to canceling plans when I’m experiencing a ‘deepening,’ and I’m usually quite all right with that. Sometimes it’s difficult, however.

And it is indeed a deepening. I’ve been learning so much; reading about Peter Novak’s “Division Theory” in his book The Division of Consciousness. On the one hand, the book rubs me the wrong way because it literalizes and concretizes things Jesus might have said. At this point I don’t even know that I believe that Jesus was a historical figure, although I do lean towards that interpretation. The book spends pages upon pages on the phrase “the son of God,” as opposed to “a son of God,” and it’s reminding me of how wary I’ve become of our culture’s tendency to try to make mythological language literal.

On the other hand, the writing is accessible and sophisticated and the synthesis is incredible. Novak’s theory speaks of a basic separation between soul (the feeling/irrational/heart aspects of ourselves) and spirit (mind/light/reason/intellect, rather than the ‘Divine Spirit’ sense of the word). His theory is that this separation is increased at death, suggesting the notion that we return to oneness when we die is untrue. This concept is one that truly rattled me when I first came across it. But the more time I spend midwifing people’s death processes in past-life regression work, the more sense it makes.

The book also speaks of the complications that occur when spirit and soul reunite, through the process of individuation, therapeutic work, or other processes. The spirit’s reunion with the repressed contents of the soul, which include multiple lifetimes, can be utterly uncomfortable, to put it mildly.

My psyche has been immersed in the archetype of imperialism lately as well, thanks to aforementioned editing project. I found it fascinating that although I was handed the project (which features MARS prominently in its title) in October during my Mars return, I didn’t take a look until this past week. The themes in my columns in the past few months are absolutely resonant with what I’ve read in this manuscript. I’ve also noticed an uptick in people acting with anger towards me since I began working on it, which is…not surprising, but also not that fun.

I’ve also been reading about inflammation and the body and food. I’m sure part of this exhaustion is due in part to holiday-style eating. Gotta get on rectifying that one.

***

I wrote the above about a week ago. I submit it to be posted because it was last minute and because my writing feels dense and negative right now, and I don’t really feel the need to share that. Now here it is New Years Eve, and although I did make it through this holiday season — and the whole month of December — without really getting scathed by the usual yuckiness that the holiday season provokes in me, I am going to be relieved when the season is over.

I feel as if any ability I have to look for the positive has been exhausted, my body feels restless and anxious, and I’m aware once again how easy it is to focus on what I do not have but want, and what I have wished for in the past and yet still do not have. This is not a tragedy, not something to be concerned about, nor a liability really — I’m happy to let phases pass, and am engaging the self-care thing, both of which are lessons of 2015 I’m very grateful for. Then I think about putting this writing out there for public consumption, and I dread the projection and interpretation.

I wish I had something more prolific or profound to say, but the fact of the matter is that I’ve also spent a bit of time reflecting on 2015, and my personal heartache and hardships of the year are making their psychic presence known. When I started the process of reflecting I was aware that even though I knew the first eight months of the year had been pretty awful, I felt a lot of distance from that. Perhaps dissociation from the shock of it, perhaps an instinct that I still need space before really dissecting just what it was that happened during that time.

I’ve since sunk into that a bit, however, and although I won’t dwell, I am aware that beginning in the fall of 2013 right up through August of this year I went through many of my deepest fears and am still without understanding of what I’m supposed to glean from all that. I have faith that understanding will come, but I can’t really think too much about this period because it still feels so unfinished, full of grief, and there is a hint of “yes, your fears can come true in all of those ways and more, and your conscious navigation doesn’t make any difference at all.”

When I shift my attention away from all of that, I’m reminded of two things. The first? Just how many people have come into my life in the past few years who have taught me the gift of presence. Why worry about the ‘thens’ or try to figure out the whys? Why not just be present here and now?

The second is that it is possible that some anxiety stems from the goals I have set out for myself this next year. In some ways, it feels like I am on the precipice, about to jump and hope I make it to the ledge I can see across the way. I’m reminded daily about the urgency of the world situation at the same time as I remember that we each have to progress in our own time — and that that’s OK, too.

How’s that for a long and winding post? I’ll leave it here for now, will seek further inspiration for next week, and extend my genuine well-wishes and heart hugs to all of you here in the Planet Waves community. Here’s to 2016, and to engaging whatever comes from a place of helpful and healing union between spirit and the soul, mind and heart.