Walking Between The Worlds Painting in Gouache © Morgaine
Creativity comes from awakening and directing men’s higher natures, which originate in the primal depths of the universe and are appointed by Heaven.
— I Ching
What wonderful, juicy discussions we are having! As creatives, as magical people, as awakeners and the awakening, we are all walking the edges. Our path is in the numinous land that lies between the mundane and the Mystery. I am so grateful to each of you for being here every day, knowing that we are making this journey together. Especially since, sooner or later, we are likely to face what is known as the kriya – the Sanskrit word for a soul crisis.
In many shamanic traditions, the kriya is well known, though perhaps called by other names. It is a crisis of the soul that may manifest in mysterious but deadly illness, a plunge into deep depression, or inexplicable, sudden reversals of fortune and even catastrophe in the material world.
These events can be make it or break it times. We enter an often painful and strange transition that challenges the deadening ordinary misery we have considered normal. Or else we can cling to our emptiness and call it safety. Do we dare let go of our illusion of control, and allow the profound shifts that are happening?
Julia writes, “In twelve-step groups, kriyas are often called surrenders. People are told to just let go. And they would, if they knew what they were holding on to. With the morning pages in place and the artist dates in motion, the radio set stands half a chance of picking up the message you are sending and/or receiving. The pages round up the usual suspects. They mention the small hurts we prefer to ignore, the large successes we’ve failed to acknowledge. In short, the morning pages point the way to reality: this is how you’re feeling: what do you make of that?
“And what we make of that is often art.
“People frequently believe the creative life is grounded in fantasy. The more difficult truth is that creativity is grounded in reality, in the particular, the focused, the well observed or specifically imagined.”
The more clear we are about ourselves, the less our lives become an imitation of someone else, or some vague standard we were taught as children. The more we can speak, dance, sing, play, create in our true, original voice.
But as our masks and habits fall away, we are certainly going to be in the in-between places, as Star so beautifully described in her poem yesterday. And while they are the most magical places of growth, change, and movement, they can be painful. As our false self molts away, it can be traumatic to realize, “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t recognize me.”
Julia reassures us, “Remember that the more you feel yourself to be terra incognita, the more certain you can be that the recovery process is working. You are your own promised land, your own new frontier.”