Cycles of Transformation

Enjoy this 13-minute read – or let me read it to you via the link at the top of this post!

In these times of social isolation – of loss, uncertainty, and often overwhelming stressors – a sense of deep inner connection and clarity is becoming not just a path for seekers but a path for survival.

Where do we turn for comfort when we are separated from the people, places, and activities we loved?

Who do we look to for guidance when everything is so new and shifting so constantly that no one can possibly know the answers?

And how do we find a deeper sense of meaning when getting through the day takes all the energy we have?

We can start by looking at what we are in our core that has always been there and stays with us despite everything we’ve lost. We can look at what makes us human. We can look at the unique story being lived through our lives. We can ask how we – with our unique gifts and wounds – ended up being alive during these strange times and what we might be here to learn or give. And we can follow these subtle clues like breadcrumbs to an often surprisingly simple way of being that collaborates with the unknown and unfolding future while providing a sense of orientation, wonder, and meaning regardless of circumstances.

 

The Archetype of Initiation

Archetypes are energies, patterns, and forms that exist on the personal, collective, and universal levels. Love is an archetype. So are Conflict and Mother, Death and Healing. They express through us, but also exist independently of us. Even without human beings, there is still Creation and Connection.

One of the most powerful archetypes I’ve uncovered in my life, and increasingly on our planet, is the Archetype of Initiation, a phrase first introduced to me by Michael Meade. I’d love to describe how that archetype is showing up in the world right now and then show you how I’m working with it in a practical way to navigate difficult experiences, heal old wounds, and live a meaningful life with chronic illness and social isolation.

We encounter the Archetype of Initiation when loss or suffering invites some latent or hidden essential quality to surface, often marking a transition from one stage of life or identity to another. Think of the butterfly struggling from its chrysalis, the fledgling discovering its wings while plummeting from its nest, or the wildebeest discovering it can swim while forging a river to reach fresh grass on the other side.

Every human being goes through two types of initiations: the primal wound and the initiatory wound. Each initiation involves three stages: loss, wandering, and integration.

 

The Primal Wound

When we’re born, we experience a physical separation from our mother, but we retain a sense of psychological oneness with her. Our mother is initially attuned to our needs and feelings, providing what we need the moment we need it and soothing our powerful emotions. But at some point, even with the healthiest and most attentive mothers, there is a moment when she turns away from us. Her attention is focused elsewhere – on another child, on a need of her own, on a simple distraction – and our world is shattered. Our sense of “us” is lost and we enter a new world of “me and you.”

This primal wound is an invitation for us to find our way to the lap of the Great Mother – the archetype of Motherhood – so that we have ready access to her comfort and nurturing any time we need it. She can appear as a sense of being held by the earth, as a connection to places, things, and activities that comfort us, or as the ability to self-soothe.

Successfully passing through this initiation enables us to feel an innate sense of safety and belonging to our lives, community, and the planet, which serves as a foundation for everything else we do, especially our ability to embody and share our unique gifts.

How we each relate to this primal wound of separation – and what we latch onto to fill the void – sets the stage for the rest of our lives. It strongly influences whether we become narcissists or addicts, perfectionists or caretakers, and our level of resilience and authenticity.

Most of us are a complex jumble of many reactions and parts that can trace their origins back to this initial wound. But all of us, each and every human being, goes through this process of initiation via the primal wound, the separation from our personal mother as an invitation to connect with the universal Mother, to leave one sense of togetherness for an ultimately much broader and more enduring wholeness.

 

The Initiatory Wound

The second type of initiation is the initiatory wound, which can happen many times throughout our lives. Each initiatory wound is an invitation to separate from the sense of self we’ve developed to survive and connect with our deep Self, our unique purpose, our reason for being.

Each time we experience a loss – a relationship, home, job, core belief, routine – this second type of initiation is triggered, and this is the one that I feel we’re all in now: individually and collectively. We are in urgent need of support with navigating this initiation if humanity is going to make it through the global challenges we’re facing.

The stages of the Archetype of Initiation are:

1. Separation: “The life I was living and/or the person I was is gone. I’m willing to let go of trying to get it back. I’m ready to feel the pain of this loss.”
2. Wandering: “I’m strong enough to admit that I don’t know what to do or what’s coming next. I’m willing to let go of trying to understand, fix, and orchestrate things. I’m ready to practice waiting and listening for what’s trying to emerge, and to trust it.”
3. Integration: “I feel connected to a new paradigm, vision, or way of being that has arisen from deep inside me. I’m ready to step back out into the world to find people, places, and activities that resonate with what I’m becoming. I’m committed to returning back to my Self to embody it more fully and make sure I’m in alignment.”

 

A Personal Journey

I recently experienced a mini initiatory wound when my housemate left for a week to take her daughter to college. We’ve all been living together for over three years, and it’s been a difficult and powerful lesson for me in community and autonomy; self-care and surrender. Within hours of them leaving, my heart cracked open and I felt my longing for a community of quiet, gentle, deep humans. No more Zoom. No more imaginal beings. No more self-soothing.

I found myself in the middle of the field near my home on my knees sobbing. I was fully feeling my deep loss, but unlike past grief, the pain wasn’t sharp or tearing. I sensed the sweetness of my tears, the gentle embrace a precious part of me that I had lost touch with, but had never really left me.

When I looked up, I saw a single jack rabbit in the middle of the field up on its haunches, with its giant ears pricked, watching me as if to say, “Are you safe to be around? Should I stay or should I run?”

It was as though the soft vulnerability I was feeling in myself was now looking back at me, wondering what I’d do next. Would I shame myself for failing to create the life I wanted, for being overly sensitive, sentimental, or idealistic? Would I brush it aside so I could take care of my to-do list or start planning my escape to a better, more loving life? I didn’t want to lose this part of me, but I also didn’t know how to honor it without falling back into my own constricted and defensive ways of being.

I decided to let this rabbit help me with my sense of feeling lost and not knowing what to do. I invited him into a burrow in the center of my chest so I could carry his softness with me as a reminder of how to be as I encountered the relationships and responsibilities in my life, to see if his simple presence would enable me to move in a new way, at least inside myself.

I shed many more tears over the coming days, had some heartful and helpful conversations with my housemates, and had a significant break-through with my somatic therapist around the relationship between Rabbit and Falcon – who have been living within me in a tense and dangerous relationship for years.

I saw how my utter exhaustion had taken me to a place of graceful surrender, which created an opening for me to see and acknowledge my sense of loss. My willingness to pause my compulsion to analyze, understand, and act in response to every problem enabled me to sit with “not knowing” and receive the support of an unexpected ally. I am now living a new chapter of my life journey: integrating a core of cozy, cuddly sweetness with a powerful sense of my autonomy and responsibility for my own self-care and safety.

 

Navigating a New Life

I often hear people ask – how do I discern the right choice or path? How do I know which feeling or voice is “me” and which isn’t? How can I break out of old patterns and reactions that are so, so automatic?

I’ve found that this ability isn’t a destination but a process, a conversation. It starts with letting our loss and heartbreak take us to a place of willingness to let go of what doesn’t feel like “us”, at least not anymore. It deepens when we genuinely ask, over and over, “What do I do now? What am I for? What will make this all worthwhile?” and then pause to listen; for what we feel, see, sense, imagine, hear, dream.

For me, that willingness came on my knees in a field grieving the community I don’t have. I saw how my protective ways of trying to fix this problem have been feeding my frustration and fatigue, and distancing me from the very connection I long for. I noticed when Rabbit appeared, remembered him from past dreams, understood the quality of being that he represented, and asked him to help me do what I didn’t yet know how to do.

If we are sincere and consistent about approaching life in this way, we begin to notice patterns, inner landscapes, certain flavors that feel familiar and evoke a sense of depth and timelessness. We have spontaneous moments of “ohhhh, that’s what that ____ meant” or “I can’t put my finger on it, but I just know I need to check out ____”.

We begin to feel more and more as though everything is coming to rest and a sense that “There’s nothing else I need to do. This is all I need.” As we come to recognize and inhabit these moments more often, it becomes easier to discern whether the things in our lives magnify or diminish our connection to that place in us.

If we find ourselves alone or in conflict with others, we can weather it more gracefully because we feel at home inside ourselves. If we find ourselves restless, confused, or frustrated with our lives, we have a place to go and ask what to do. We become familiar with the subtle shifts of our energy and body sensations that show us whether we are aligning with our deeper truth or shifting into a defensive, protective, or contrived pattern.

In the end, even if we never found our way as children to the lap of the Great Mother – even if we carry deep wounds of abandonment, insecurity, and isolation – each and every loss we experience is an invitation to find our personal way back to that universal sense of comfort and belonging… if we know how to recognize and trust the Archetype of Initiation.

Nancy