August 1, 2017
It’s the fourth night within the past week that I’ve struggled to sleep. I’ve been awake since 3:30 AM. With each night, I’m becoming increasingly aware that this is not just jet lag from traveling across time zones—this is a bodily manifestation of the unease rippling through the collective.
Insomnia is one of the most ubiquitous forms of imprisonment, just falling short of sleep paralysis. I’m utterly trapped inside my body and the waking world it inhabits. Sleep is a state in which our awareness withdraws from the physical and into the mental and emotional bodies. As I struggled with emotional regulation throughout my life, my tumultuous relationship with sleep has fluctuated wildly over the years. In my teens, I could sleep in excess of fourteen hours a day in my deepest bouts of depression, or go days without sleep at the height of my anxiety. When I wasn’t being pursued by nightmares, sleep was the most submerging form of escapism I could hope to access.
Observing my thoughts is like witnessing a dementia patient spiral further into a crisis of their own imagining, growing more hysterical as they lose track of what even set them off in the first place. It’s difficult to grasp that behind the deathly eyes gazing back at me in the mirror is the mind that spins and howls through the night. A silver lining of this sleepless spell is that I had previously forgotten just how much my anxiety is exasperated by disrupted sleep. It is an ensnaring negative feedback loop. When I’m anxious, I can’t sleep. When I don’t sleep, my anxiety skyrockets. Last night was the first night I slept longer than five hours, and the difference in my nerves was stunning.
While writing this curled up on the couch, one of the houseflies that have been gradually overtaking our house within the past week landed on my keyboard, and I remembered the fly that kept buzzing around my head while I was lying sleepless in bed. Several others whirred and tapped against the window beside me. I realized that they were trying to tell me something, and I attuned my energy to theirs.
A series of disjointed scenes flood into my mind: soldiers carving into one another with swords and flinging their blood through the air; the throats and bellies of humans and animals sacrificially slit open; and a time-lapse of a gazelle carcass decomposing until maggots burrow out from the char-like skin; all the while a voice that hums like the wings of a fly whispered in the back of my skull:
“We live to die. Seduced by death into incarnation. We are born from decay as maggots. We govern the agreement of that which is taken cannot be retrieved, but may sustain new life. Death is literally the end of life as we know it, so in this way, the word does not necessarily indicate the physical end of a life, but rather, a change beyond our context of what is currently known. We live only to die within days of being born. Our momentary existence embodies the dissolution all organisms undergo on this planet. We live to die.”
As my focus eased back into the stillness of the living room, I turned towards the windowsill. I noticed an upturned fly in its final moments of life, and watched as the mechanical twitching of its legs wound down to a halt. I’m then struck with insight that the way people relate to houseflies usually parallels with how they choose to interact with death. Cultures that pay little mind to flies generally accept death as a part of life; whereas those that are disgusted by flies tend to keep death as far away from them as possible, and go to great lengths to confine it within institutions like hospitals and hospice.
As I witnessed the life slip away from the iridescent carapace that still glittered like a tiny emerald with ruby eyes, I was also given one final message to share: don’t resist change, embrace the undoing. Even if the change is unpleasant, your negativity towards it will only fan the flames. Be gentle with yourself, especially in the coming weeks.
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I rediscovered this blog I never published (I wasn’t even working on a blog at the time) last night, and realized how relevant it was now given my recent work with the Animal Spirit tarot deck. It’s actually pretty easy for me to lose track of how unusual some of my experiences are until I put them to words. I won’t deny that reading my own account of this incident felt a bit like finding an old tome filled with the rantings of a madman. Of course, I’m sure days worth of sleep deprivation took a toll, as well. What struck me most about this piece, however, was the time I wrote it.
While this information came so readily, I was unable to fathom just how much change and loss I was about to face. Just as the flies had warned, it was only a matter of weeks before I would be confronted with the first signs of my life unraveling. Within the following months, I would see the end of an intentional community that felt like my family, lose my closest friends, move away from Portland, and gradually lose a partner to thousands of miles of distance and an impenetrable fortress of grief.
In retrospect, I believe the swarming flies were signaling an energetic rot about to manifest. One of the most fascinating (and frustrating) aspects of intuitive work is that I’m usually not sure why a specific image or sense will come through… until months (or years) later when I remember the initial download, and I have a fuller scope of the puzzle. As with dealing for other people, however, sometimes I will mention a tiny bit of information (that usually doesn’t seem worth mentioning to me) and be met with a look of awe, confirmation, or emotional release. These experiences have shown me that though my “inner voice” may not be the loudest, or even make total sense to me at the time, its insight is undeniable. Wisdom reverberates throughout all existence in many forms.
Incidentally, while discussing this blog post with a friend last night, she mentioned that she had reached out to another intentional community (on our behalf) asking how they would deal with issues we were experiencing at the time, but never got a response. I laughed it off and said, “they were probably too busy going through the same thing,” but I was actually pretty convinced they didn’t exist anymore, either.
After over a year of silence, my friend synchronously got a response this afternoon. Can you guess what they said? They also began to crumble due to similar circumstances right around when she had messaged them, and eventually broke apart as well. There was actually another community I knew of that broke apart around that time, as well. It seems that we truly had found ourselves in the wake of a “collective ripple” after all.
What is important to remember about extrasensory information, however, is that it is usually vague or cloudy for a reason. We live in a multidimensional universe, yet most of us are blind to the fact we shift between timelines based on our vibration (Law of Attraction). Intuition is not so much an indication of what is to come, but rather, what we are co-creating with Spirit. An especially vivid vision has the tendency to become more believable, but is not necessarily more likely. However, because of how the human ego grips to sensory experiences, it can be difficult to “believe” in an alternative. Yet there is no point in seeing the future(s) if it doesn’t inspire action. This is why only after embracing the mutable nature of existence are we “ready” to see with the next level of clarity.
Fly begs one final question, “Is there something you are too disgusted or offended by to see?”