linen spread
setting the table for what already knows its way home
I look out the stone window onto the crystalline, placid sea like the figure in the tarot’s Three of Wands, ready to receive the incoming ships and all the adventurous merchants with stories and treasures of their own. I whisper to myself and breathe in, with relief: I can’t believe it.
But truth is I can.
This little moment of triumph has been earned. Every single ounce of it. Coming to this place of arrival is deserved. I was always worthy of it. I am worthy of it now. I am worthy of more.
It took a lot from me to get to this point. Some of us can hop right to what we want, an instant match or so it seems. Life flows easy. You snap your fingers and voilà, here you go: your desire served to you on a silver platter. But what about the moments when it’s not so easy? The wild quantum leap not as achievable? If you somehow manage to do it, you find that you’ve snapped back just as quickly and now have gnarly bruises to boot. Traversing the distance between where you are and what you desire can feel incredibly painful, for it requires stretch. You have to be stretched. Otherwise, you won’t be able to hold more, better, different. There is a Bible verse about wine skins that I think of often. Mark 2:22:
And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins.
I can’t get out of this body, not that I ultimately want to. It’s a gift, a wondrous one at that. So it begs the question: how do I make of myself a new wineskin? I consider my skin. It regenerates itself. The little paper cut I got a few days ago, gone. I breathe in knowing that the wineskin builds itself. The transformation happens, guaranteed.
Earlier this year, I had the realization that I was done with the job I had. It did not pay well. I felt like a caged animal on a sinking ship. I talked about this with my partner, and he (bless him, he’s so supportive) encouraged me to dream bigger. Get out of there. I took the advice, though the responsibility for navigating my life rests on me. In other words, whatever came after was mine to navigate.
Leaving felt good.
But things didn’t go as planned. Everything froze. I was wading through molasses. Ah, but tomorrow, tomorrow, I’ll finally get what I need, I’d tell myself like a mantra. Tomorrow would come and still, I’d be there. Stuck, uninspired. Increasingly worried, I dug through my mental archives to see why this failed, and what I could do about it.
You see, I had tried this before. Making the leap. I fell so very hard. To be frank, I am shocked I survived that period of my life. Back then, I was deep into Neville Goddard and the school of new thought. If I can imagine it repeatedly, then it must be so. Right? Right. I’d do that and write and rewrite my scripts of my desired life. At the very essence of it, however, I didn’t believe any of it. I was there in my mind’s eye, for a second — barely a flicker, but the rest of me was deeply entrenched in undesired circumstance.
I couldn’t let go of the fear. The fear of failing, that self-fulfilling prophecy. My ship was wrecked. With my head barely above water, I talked myself through it: Ok, that didn’t work. Let’s clean out my living space. Let’s leave behind these rituals I have been building up for months. Let’s donate books. We can start again. We can build anew.
I didn’t know it then, but I was setting the table. Sloppily, chaotically. Sometimes using broken plates or mismatched silverware, but a table nonetheless.
I looked into manifesting forums and books, expecting that someone else’s phrases might be my magical key. It didn’t work as intended, but choosing new thoughts, even when the affirmations felt foreign, opened doors. When I felt anxious, I soothed myself with ‘I am held in warmth,’ one of my most comforting affirmations. This honesty — becoming aware of the fear and gently flipping it — opened the creaky door more and more, leading to deeper explorations. Why exactly am I repeating the same patterns? Why is there such famine when I have experienced feast before?
Well, my inner voice seemed to say, let’s explore why. I woke up one morning in such intense dread that I immediately went to YouTube for comfort. I found a video by Amber Akilla where she goes over habits that helped her go from flop to slay. Meditation was one, keeping track of goals and habits another. She ends the video saying she has printables on her website to help us get started.
I downloaded the “slay bingo” (thank you, Amber ♡) and dedicated a good chunk of that day to filling out the boxes. I gave myself a free space in the middle, of course. I allotted a few months for this campaign. I chose treats I’d be getting myself once I completed each row, column, and diagonal.
I was so close to losing all will to live. Yet little by little, thinking again of what I can do, tending the body and mind with love, and rewarding myself with small precious things got my heart pumping again.
I devoted my available moments to completing the bingo tasks. Funny, a bingo board became my lifeline… but you know what? If it works, it works. I am worth climbing up for, fighting for.
And integrating. The good, the bad, the lonely. There was a moment of clarity where I realized that the only person I’ve been fighting all along was myself. One of the blanket affirmations that you hear a lot is ‘I am at peace with myself’. Before, I was like, wtf is this going to do? But it’s everything. To be at peace with myself is bliss. I can create with greater flow when I am not warring against myself, doubting every decision I make. I am no longer sucked into casting out parts of me, criticizing myself viciously, or self-sabotaging by blindly following what others say works for them. I have myself to go to first. Others’ realities don’t define mine; I create what is true for me.
The thought always leads. Thought awareness is key. Having achievable goals gives your existence zest — the joy you need to make that leap and stick the landing.
A writer writes, and influenced by Stephen King I have been chugging out 2k words daily for months now. Inspired by the bingo, I am exploring writing in other literary forms aside from the novel, just for fun. I am planning to bake a torta paradiso for my neighbors because it’s a delight to do so, and their friendship and care have been a balm for the days of rocky sailing. I am reading The Iliad again, not because I have to, but because I want to. I got Wilson’s translation this time because I am curious. I am sharing my inner world with you now, here on mirrorfeast. That’s embodiment too. I could live a hermit-like life, but the call to live vividly and in community is stronger.
I breathe out, relieved. I turn towards the table and let the tablecloth I have in my hands float down into position. I start placing bowls and chalices, for we are feasting tonight.
I hear a knock at the door. It’s you.
“Oh hi there, welcome,” I say. A little early, but that’s ok. You enter, for you need a space to rest and know that peace is possible. I smile and offer a seat, then I lean in and ask, “Care for some Turkish delight? Let’s chat.”