There is serenity in suffering. A kind of blissful agony.
The tears that stain your face carve pathways and deep gorges in your heart, and you are a raw nerve in a world that is indifferent, and you feel everything with an intensity that shakes the very foundations on which you are built, and you struggle to contain the light.
You cling desperately to your sanity with outstretched fingertips as everything you were turns to rubble. You see in unknown colours. You walk ancient paths that hold the scent of flowers long lost to your evolution and sparks of light that make their way through the canopy to meet you, and you know the only way out of that dark forest is to surrender to it. To give of yourself entirely.
The serenity of suffering is not a constant bliss. Not at first. It comes beneath waves of pain that threaten to knock the sense out of you, that cause you to cry out for comfort. But that comfort cannot answer you by running through the forest to take you in its arms- rather it resides in you already.
You must stand strong as the waves batter you. You must cast a circle with the salt of your tears and shelter where you can. You must hold fast in the face of all storms until you find the serenity at the eye, until you begin to weave your magick in the world.
Until the pain becomes your art.
In that serenity at the centre, you will encounter a peace that cannot be disturbed. A peace that belongs to you. A visceral warmth, spreading through you like a constant dawning, a realisation.
It is you that is realised.
A you who was lost countless lives ago- who continued to live quietly in the spaces between thoughts, whispering to you through dreams, waiting to be remembered. You are the gift given to you by your suffering. You are the very essence of bliss personified, and you belong in that bliss, and in that bliss is your knowing. And in your knowing lives your power.
You created yourself. You are free to let go of your creations. Free to change them at will. You are free to explore the agony and the ecstasy from the space between thoughts. You came here to carve pathways into your heart so that you may venture inside and curl up in the knowing of your love. You came to suffer the storms, to taste all the bitterness of despair and the sweet lightness of hope.
You came to know yourself, to dance around the sun and have the moonlight kiss your feet because you are divinity made flesh, and you come to know that through the wounds you heal with your own love.
You came to find the serenity of suffering, to make art of those wounds, to make space for light, to meet and rejoice with the entirety of who you are. You came here to become.
So it Is, ever shall it be.


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art of trauma
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