A funeral for all the things that never were
A time comes when the sharp light of day reveals all that we’ve been brewing in our secret cellar.
The one only we hold the keys for.
This room holds the alternative reality we’ve built brick by brick as a safe haven when reality felt too uncertain, too painful, too uncontrollable.
We often spend more time in this room than anywhere else. So we make it cozy, comfortable… just how we like it.
It contains all of our hopes, fairy tales, expectations, dreams of permanence and certainty:
The forever love-story we imagine with our “soul mates” (with cute puppies and rosy-cheeked babies)…
The trajectory of “success” we plan for our career…
The illusions of who we want to be and how we want our life to unfold…
And yet, I have yet to meet someone that hasn’t been surprised by a shocking demolition of what we thought nobody even knew existed.
Losing what felt like home is devastating. It often knocks us down into our knees.
It asks us to lower with trembling hands our own beloved creations back into the Earth.
If you are there, beloved one, I will hold with you a funeral for all the illusions that never were. The ones that on occasions felt more real than reality itself.
Hold yourself tenderly. Softly. Gently.
They deserve to be honoured. Mourned. Wailed for.
Bring as much kindness as you can possibly muster, as you transition from the dream world and come back to life.
It’s normal to feel raw. Exposed. Vulnerable. Naked. With nowhere to hide.
Allow yourself to get used to the feeling of being fully alive.
One breath at the time. One step at the time.
The pull of life towards the truth will always uncover that which has no foundations in reality.
It’s a testament of her fierce love, of her commitment to our liberation…
Although it can feel far from it, know this is a gift for your own freedom.
Are we courageous enough to surrender our dreams and root ourselves in the inescapable impermanence of life?
Are we ready to meet life as it is, rather than create an imagined reality that is bound to be broken by the next wave of truth?
The choice is, as always, ours.