Several months after I had taken my journey into the darkness of grief and emergence into the light of forgiveness, I had an early springtime session on the beach. The day was warm and thus so the evening. Typically, one is supposed to have intentions whenever one embarks on a journey – and a journey with the medicine is no different. The problem I made for myself was that I had had many intentions in the days preceding. So many, perhaps, that I had to force my mind to try to remember half of them. This caused a mild form of anxiety regarding whether I will get answers to them all, if not to any? The questions lay with purpose. What is my purpose? What is the purpose of my life on this earth? Of life in general – in the meaning of the universe, if any? Of course, clichéd as they are these existential questions kept arising. Aren’t these these the only questions that really matter to our limited selves? But would I even understand the answers if got them, I wondered?
As the effects of the medicine came on, I wished my family and especially my children well, and let myself go. For this trip wouldn’t be concerned with them, I told myself. I realized that while I had found my voice and song in the previous trip (at least one appropriate for that trip), I would need something else for this one. What else do I miss, I wondered? Immediately I found my mind querying as to the base vocalization of my human form – the voice of my animus i.e. my primal roar. Yet, I realized that I had never even tried. No guttural annunciation of my presence had ever truly graced this planet, so I tried to roar by exuding a great breath of air through my vocal tract like a large mammal, like a lion. Yet, my roar sounded only weak and uncertain – indeed, more pathetic than just muted. That’s no roar befitting an animal, I thought, and certainly not one belonging to an apex male (kudos to my ego). “Let me hear your roar – roar!”, I demanded of my friend who was with me. Well, he obliged and roared a most terrible roar (sans the gnashing terrible teeth or the rolling of terrible eyes), but it was clear that I had some serious work to do on mine. I tried once more and then let it go. Laying back I told myself that this is my homework assignment!
In truth, though, I wasn’t giving any deep messages from the medicine regarding either myself or my identity. My friends were playing music and asked me from time to time what they could do for me. Being totally fine and at peace, I realized that they wanted to fulfill their roles of holding space, but also knew that I didn’t need any help. I was totally fine. So as not to be rude, I quietly walked away across the sand to the water and danced about splashing in the shallow waves. I began to spin, to swirl my body around and around, faster and faster until I found myself standing still and the whole world was spinning before me in infinity. It was so beautiful – and a knowing feeling that I create the world and not the other way around crept over me. And I realized each one of us is the creator. We create the universe through our awareness – and the universe creates us right back.
In the middle of my dervish act I asked myself (as the creator) for purpose. The answer was immediate and most emphatic. “Just have fun,” I heard. No more, no less – to enjoy the miracle of being alive and the gathering of experience, just as one gathers shells from the sand. Without spending further time ruminating about it, I continued to spin ‘round on the beach, warmed by the setting Mediterranean sun, feeling complete and wholly one with the universe.
