By Natasha Botkin
It all began with a small voice, “We need you.” It seemed as if it was one voice, then the it became more evident that it was many voices complied into one small voice.
Sitting in absolute silence, the clang of a windchime, the hollows of the breeze, the voices are stronger- an ache, a pain that I did not understand. “We know you can hear us, you are tuning in much more clearly. Please we need you, please come forward.”
A few days later, a kind neighbor asked why I didn’t request my son to help me. I knew this was not for him. It is for me. He cannot partake in what I was about to go through.
My old gardening tools of the trade would not suffice. They were not sharp enough. To clear this path I needed a new tool. Not to replace my Great Grandfather’s hand shears, I adore so much, rather the essence – that I needed something that would have long handles. I was about to step into something dark, big and quite scary.
To another it looks as if I am pruning and trimming an overgrown rose-bush, and I am. What one could not see are the energies of the ladies before me. Those who were murder for their wealth, knowledge and gifts. For so long, violent death after violent death and they were woven into a thicket.
Let’s define what a thicket is. According to Merriam-Webster’s dictionary: a group of bushes that grow close together. If you have ever happened upon a true thicket, then you are aware that this is thick, intertwined and one cannot simply pass through it. Rather one must chop it.
I gathered the necessary tools, thick gloves and long sleeves for this release. The first snip was massively scary as I hear the hallow of the screams. Screams of pain, and then delightful cheers, “She is really going to do this, she is freeing us of the pain. In order to free herself, she has to free us. Natasha, you can do it! You were once fearless, please, please do not stop, dear girl keep going for us, more so for you.”
Each snip, clip and prick of the thorns snarled into me and catapulted my breathing into a panic. The angels and faeries surrounding me in the form of marvelous creatures. Aww, my sweet mama jay sitting, watching me. An unknown bird ribbits deep from within the rose-bush. The animal kingdom joining me, I am not alone, I am surrounded in a container of love.
This is the rhythm that emerges. “Ouch, how could a thorn get stuck in my skin in that manner?” Clip, snip: entanglement, entrapment, the thicket so strong. I have not ever seen a rose-bush grow in this manner before. Just last year it was voluminous and shown this spectacular showing of pink blossoms where the dragonflies and ladybugs danced.
Ever so careful; and yet, Clip, snip, “Ouch!!” Became the theme. Clip, snip gently pull the dead cane. Snip, clip, “Ouch!” Each snip, each clip, each thorn stuck in my skin shows me the way of my past. The dead cane a symbol of the ladies who need released; I ponder, “if I had a burn barrel,” and quickly dispose of this idea as I reside in the city that most likely had a burn ban in effect. Plus ,there are the groans of the ladies who were burned for their gifts.
I chuckle to myself wondering where Bambi may be within the thicket. Nonetheless, I keep going, hours pass. I am amazed at the difference of the size and the cane. Where it seems dead, the tips reveal growth; proving it is not as dead as it seems.
Clip, snip, “Ouch!” There is less of the ouch, and yet one thorn sticks Deep in my arm; I still have a mark, will it stay as a scar, only time will tell. There is laughter and giggles. The yard is filled with so many animals. The love they are providing for me, for my past, for the pain, the shame, the guilt that these beautiful ladies had to endure. “Natasha, you are right; it’s time to get it right in this lifetime. The gifts and medicines that you carry are amazing. We are so glad that you are fearless.”
At that moment, I set down my shears and cried, “I used to be so fearless. When did the fear embrace me. When did my kingdom become so overgrown, why am I hiding?” Their past, my past it is all coming up together entwined, entangled as one- we are one: I am them, they are me; it is our past that needs healed. It is time for forgiveness of those who wronged us, the mistakes we made. The worst of all me; the shame and guilt that I hid and held so deep an openly weeping wound. The attempts to hide and keep a secret. This no longer matters, what matters is clearing and releasing.
The ladies dance around me, I can feel them. They are free. The path clear. A dragonfly entices me with the most magical dance. The newly hatched ladybugs are basking in the sunlight. The yard seems lighter, more open. Then the truth; it was a mistake. The thicket is the symbolism of confusion. A metaphoric state of bewilderment: an entanglement ensnared in Turmoil. Due to a stressful moments in my life, I made mistakes out of confusion. Some of this is the past lives entangling themselves into a woven thicket creating the state of confusion; some of this is my past that ensnared and entrapped me at one point. Together we are free, our path is clear. Where I am going and what I am doing is all deliciously unfolding into a euphoric reverie of divinely magical blessings. As my heart sings to me, “Tune in dear girl and just wait until you see and feel the wonderment that awaits you.”
May you hear the tune in your heart, clear your path and move forward in the most magical way.
Much Love, Much Light and Magical Blessings,