The message of the dragonfly

/ sarahlissyjenkins / 16 Comments

On this morning’s walk with my dog I was delighted when a dragonfly flew in my path. It reminded me of the last time I saw one down that road, around 4 and a half years ago: I was returning from taking my dead guinea pig’s body to the vet to be cremated and was immersed in sadness. Melody had lived an amazingly long life despite considerable struggles – an open infected wound, a limp, brain seizures. A vet even advised me to have her put to sleep as the wound was so deep. But while I didn’t want her suffering, I believed she deserved one chance. Melody took it and ran with it. Her wound healed with treatment and she stayed strong for another two years until seizures began to weaken her resolve and soon afterwards she developed cheyne stokes breathing and passed away. She was 7 years old.

The dragonfly’s appearance that day reminded me that we are never alone in how we feel, even when we most feel it, in fact especially when we most feel it. I was travelling on my scooter down the street when out of nowhere it flew alongside me, kept up for a good few metres, then disappeared as quickly as it came. In Native American culture, dragonflies are a sign of deceased loved ones, so maybe Melody had been paying me a visit in a new form? I will never know. It was enough to recognise its significance and feel intense gratitude that I had a sign from spirit that day.

This morning’s dragonfly flew directly at me, went in a semi-circle, then headed for a brick wall where it flew over and disappeared. Once again I am grateful and awed by its beauty and timing. I was awake for quite a while during the night thinking about my mother and her ailing health, saddened by the thought that one day in the not too distant future she’ll be gone, at least from this physical form. And then there’s my dog, who is doing well on an increased dose of phenobarbital for her epilepsy, but is getting older and the thought of not having her around is deeply distressing. The fragility and impermanence of this life is playing heavily on my mind at this time.

However, this is where dragonfly symbolism provides immense comfort to me beyond any ideas about what form each dragonfly may or may not be assuming. Dragonflies are bringers of light. They represent Spirit and higher consciousness. Ultimately, they are a reminder that everyone is on a journey of transformation, change and rebirth, whether that happens in this lifetime or in some other way. They are translucent, showing that this physical form is ultimately illusionary because everything dissolves and goes back to its source, which is Divine love. While it’s natural to become attached to various physical forms, they are temporary; they get sick, old and die, but what is real never dies.

The message of the dragonfly is that all is well. Nothing is to be feared, including death. Each of us is on a journey and that journey does not end.

A dream of waking up: A blooded fish finger, white hand grenade

/ sarahlissyjenkins / 3 Comments

Early this morning I had a fascinating dream. It was in two parts. First, I was cooking a fish finger for my son’s dinner. On examination it wasn’t cooked properly as the centre of the finger was brimming with blood. I told my son that it wasn’t ready and needed to go in the oven longer. My son went ballistic, picked up the keyboard attached to my laptop and threw it down a flight of stairs. As I picked it up I thought to myself ‘This is PTSD from parenting.’

The second part of the dream was very different. I was in some kind of building and there was a sense of urgency. Someone told me that I had to come this way. A flight of stairs was ahead of me. Instead of walking up, I forced myself to elevate higher and higher, until I reached the top. A balcony was in front of me, hundreds of people gathered below. I held a white coloured grenade in my hand. As I threw it into the crowd, one person looked up and saw me. I found myself at the bottom of the stairs again. I thought to myself ‘there will be an explosion and I’m going to wake up and find myself in it.’

At this point I woke up, thankfully to the silence of my bedroom.

I believe this dream is significant but I haven’t yet figured out exactly how. While the two parts are different, there are obvious parallels and themes. In the first, my son throws something (a laptop) DOWN the stairs; in the second I throw something (a grenade) after going UP the stairs. In both, there is a massive disturbance, but in the first I am not in control, whereas in the second I am the cause.

The fish is also very interesting. Fish in dreams tend to symbolise the unconscious, the giver of life, since they live in the ocean from which we came. As such fish can also symbolise the true self, or the Christ. If I consider the latter, the blood takes on even greater significance. It symbolises my wounded self. The dream mentions PTSD, the effect of coping for many years with my son’s tendency to throw items and furniture with little or no warning, exactly as portrayed here, and the screaming at all hours of the day and night, sometimes the violence. My son could be absolutely lovely, but he was unpredictable, and sadly my ill health suffered further. Here, I am serving up a well intentioned but wounded self to my son. Unsurprisingly, he rejected it. Maybe, too, this is about me ‘pointing the finger’ akas assigning blame to the situation and seeing myself as a victim of it. A bloodied finger is a particularly gruesome image, since our fingers are an essential part of our anatomy; we need them to communicate, hold, throw.

And then we have part two, when I seemingly decide to bomb an entire room. Seen on one level, it could be about anger and revenge, but I don’t FEEL it’s that. Instead, there is a sense of higher purpose and understanding. I am elevating to a new level. I can see chaos already below but there is something I have to do. The grenade has its own meaning. It is white, the colour of purity and spirit. As I throw it, someone below sees me and understands what I’m doing. Part of my personality is awake. I am then back downstairs, knowing more chaos will ensue and I will come to be in the midst of it, but who I am in THAT moment – the spiritual self, the soul – is detached yet deeply involved, separate yet witnessing everything. Other aspects of my personality need a stronger wake up call. That’s what the grenade is about.

I don’t know if the second part of the dream explains the first. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. But I feel, deep down, that they are saying all of it makes sense. I have felt more at peace around my son and the way he is for a little while but I know from past experience that my unconscious will roam around to find exactly what is still festering there and make me very aware of it. And of course, it is a process; the pain probably won’t ever go away completely, but as with any life experience, we can awaken through it.

Strange experience early this morning

/ sarahlissyjenkins / 1 Comment

I had a very interesting experience early this morning. I woke up and randomly thought ‘It is 5.11a.m.’ Then I went to the bathroom, returned, checked the time on my phone and it was indeed 5.11a.m! I don’t tend to wake up at that time so I had no reason to believe it would be 5.11a.m. I was so exhausted that I didn’t ponder it, got straight back into bed and fell asleep for another couple of hours. Then this morning I thought ‘Hmm, 5.11a.m?!’ So I’ve taken it as a synchronicity, or ‘meaningful co-incidence,’ as coined by Carl Jung, and used numerology to decipher what my subconscious may have been telling me.

Five is the number of the senses, through which I experience the world. It is also the number of Divine grace. Therefore, it is grace made manifest in daily life, a reminder that the Divine is all around us and within us. Interestingly, in the tarot five is the number of challenge and conflict, showing that the path to our true nature does not come easy. Moreover, ’11’ is the number of empowerment and manifestation. In China, it is a sign of the Tao, meaning ‘the path.’ In the tarot ’11’ is the Justice card but also, interchangeably, the Strength card. There is a higher order despite appearances to the contrary. And it takes strength to keep moving forward, but I am heading in the right direction.

Basically, as with all synchroncities, it is a sign that I am on the right path.

Remembering the creative Divine spark

/ sarahlissyjenkins / 5 Comments

As I was growing up I knew I was going to be someone great. I felt it deep in my heart. I was going to be a world famous Tv actress, or a writer. For a small child I had some pretty big plans. I was going to audition for RADA. I was going to journalism college. I was going to write a novel. I had no one to encourage me but I felt it deep in my being. I wrote pages upon pages of stories. Creativity was my lifeblood. I was determined to express myself doing what I loved.

Acting was the first thing I lost. I enrolled on an A-level in Theatre Studies at sixth form college. Not long after starting the course I realised that I wasn’t really very good. I suffered from severe social anxiety as a result of my home and school lives. My dramatic monologues paled in comparison to others. The teacher didn’t seem to like me and gave me no suggestions on how to improve. I started dropping out and eventually spoke to my personal tutor about giving up the course. I told him that I wasn’t doing very well. Even as I spoke the words I hoped he would say ‘That’s no reason to give up’ or ‘We can work on that’ but he agreed and I left the course.

When I started university two years later someone set up a drama society and I went along to the first meeting despite myself. I still had the spark of longing. But I couldn’t bring myself to join. All I could feel was the terror of making an idiot of myself. I feared everyone laughing at me, as kids had through school. Until Theatre Studies, I’d clung onto my love of drama and writing, my passion for creativity, believing that would see me through everything. Until it didn’t work anymore.

Things got worse. I took a creative writing module as part of my English degree and suddenly my writing was torn apart and criticised. I know this is par the course, but I didn’t have the resilience to manage it. Even worse, the students in my group showed far greater ability and got higher grades than I did. And truly, writing at that time was terrible. I was trying to come to terms with my childhood and being away from home and my heart was in darkness. Writing was no longer a refuge. Like acting, it seemed to prove that everything I had loved as a child was built on a lie, that in fact I was NOT GOOD ENOUGH. It was my deepest fear confirmed: I was actually a stupid girl who once thought she was great. What an idiot I had been!

Those beliefs sent me into a deep depression for many years. I still battle with them sometimes, especially when starting something new. I attempted a creative writing workshop a few years ago but almost immediately I realised I couldn’t match the level of those in the group. I was too scared to read anything out. It’s still a real source of sadness to me that something I loved so much when I was a child produces so much fear. I feel grief at not being encouraged as a child. I wish someone had seen the spark I possessed and nurtured it. But no one had cared. My family didn’t read anything I’d written. I think they feared my openness and vulnerability.

However, maybe in all that loss there is a gift. Acting and writing are wonderful talents to have, but they emerge from what we ARE, which is a spark of the Divine. As a child I was completely tapped into that wisdom and desired its creative expression despite the dysfunction that surrounded me. I didn’t compare myself to anyone else because I had no concept of doing so; all I knew was how to BE. Fear wasn’t even on my radar. My heart knew the way. I was walking the path of Divine love and OF COURSE I was – and am – someone great. How could I not be? The mistake I made was looking for fulfilment in someone else’s opinion and believing their judgements as well as my own. I got lost in my head. We are individual souls with our own way of seeing and experiencing the world. While comparison and constructive criticisms have their place, what’s more important is remembering our true nature which is creative expression itself, no matter which particular form it happens to take. Our souls are like trees -we express in our unique ways, but we are all beautiful. As a child I knew this in my heart. My lifelong task is to remember, and keep remembering that despite what I seem to have lost on the outside, I am always good enough.

The wildness of our true nature

/ sarahlissyjenkins / 17 Comments

During the early end of my teenage years I developed an affinity with horses. I was a lonely young girl with very few friends, and I spent most of my time reading and writing. However, at some point I was given a second hand bicycle, and I frequently cycled the mile or so to a large field on the outskirts of my village to see the horses who lived there. They seemed to recognise me, trotting over to the gate as soon as I appeared, eating grass from my outstretched palm. I was an avid reader of the magazine ‘Horse and Pony’ and had posters all over my bedroom wall.

Not long after this I asked my mum for riding lessons. She was usually happy to do whatever I wanted as long as it didn’t involve dealing with emotions. Sure enough, she agreed. She and my cousin who was around quite a lot at the time (cousin is a whole other issue) drove me to the local riding school and waited while I had my lesson. The first few were wonderful. I rode a palomino called Tilly and a grey called Cobweb. Occasionally I rode a larger chestnut called Lacey.

Only the second time I rode Lacey, disaster happened. She was temperamental and my nervous excited energy was probably too much for her. I was pulling at the bit and she took off. I only remember screaming and gripping onto the saddle as she galloped through the field at the back of the riding school. Finally, she charged through the stables where several instructors, including mine (not sure where she had even gone?!) managed to calm her down. I slid off the pony and down onto my knees. No one could believe I’d hung on. Sheer willpower I suppose.

My mum and cousin were still waiting in the car. They had seen everything. As I climbed in the back, my instructor looked through the window and said ‘I don’t know how you didn’t fall off, well done.’ My mum and cousin just looked at her. They didn’t say anything. I didn’t talk about it. But we all knew I wouldn’t be going back.

As frightening as that experience was, I saw something in those horses that I didn’t realise I had; the wildness and beauty of my own soul. I could envisage myself living in the field where I first made friends with those beautiful beings. I longed for the simplicity of such a life. To be honest, I still do.

As an adult I find it painful to talk about horses, not because of the experience at the stables but something I read about in the paper a few years ago which has stayed with me. I’m not going to write it here because it’s too painful to even do that, plus I wouldn’t want to inflict it on anyone else, but suffice to say it involves extreme suffering and cruelty, and there was a photo, which is even worse. It affected me so deeply that to this day I struggle to see a picture of a horse without thinking about what I read. I even wake up during the night sometimes thinking about it.

I am writing this post today to connect with the beauty that horses symbolised in my childhood; their innocence, purity, grace, as well as their power and majesticity, that made me feel at home in ways I didn’t with my blood family. I knew their hearts and mine were ultimately the same. Even Lacey, bless her, who was probably scared witless of me poking her about and longing to break free.

As souls, we all want to break free. We long to live in love, free of cruelty and suffering. Despite the sadness in the world, we each have the capacity to remember our true nature – beautiful, wild, and free.

Book Review: 11/5

/ sarahlissyjenkins / 2 Comments

It’s not often that I post book reviews, but I’m writing this for a friend who has published his first novel ’11/5′. Based on real life experiences, it’s a beautiful, heartfelt account of the perils of forming a connection with someone over email before travelling abroad and starting an exciting long distance romance. For a time, things seemed perfect. But everything is not as it appears.

Thomas had always felt different and longed for a likeminded, sensitive soul to share his life, and for a time it seemed that Elisa was the perfect girl. Vibrant, funny, she was everything Thomas wanted. He was certainly everything SHE wanted. Okay so she had a difficult past, she was unpredictable, but he understood. He wanted to be with her, no matter what. Didn’t he?

Through the novel we experience the deep connection between the two characters over email; intense, vulnerable and passionate. I was braced for the moment Thomas and Elisa met, keen to find out how the in IRL chemistry would be and whether they could build on what they’d already built online to form a lasting relationship despite the distance – and Elisa’s rocky past.

I felt the novel was a very moving portrayal of how hard it can be to find the right person to share a life and navigate the complicated waters of traumatic pasts and present expectations. I could relate so deeply to the desire for a companion to share my life but feeling overwhelmed, doubting my feelings and perceptions, often wondering if I’d rather just be on my own. The author is also an HSP (highly sensitive person) and spiritually minded, and I believe if it’s harder for those of us who are more self-aware to truly fit in when it comes to relationships, or indeed anywhere else!

The author’s native language is German and his written English is not perfect; however, I find this makes the novel even more readable. He has a very unique, chatty style which engaged me from the first page. The title and illustration depict a sense of anticipation and urgency which is carried throughout.

I wish the author well with his novel. I’ll definitely be looking out for more from him!

The quest for happiness and finding peace

/ sarahlissyjenkins / Leave a comment

Yesterday I was reading one of my journals from 2008, in which I wrote:

“Everything is like an endless struggle -wanting happiness but never really getting there “

I believed that happiness was waiting for me ‘out there’ in some distant place or state of being. It made complete sense given the fact I was caring for my severely disabled and very challenging 7 year old son while being extremely unwell myself. The situation was unbearable. While social services had thrown all the help they could at us, I was barely surviving. I wanted my life – as I knew it – to be over. Whilst I did go into some very dark places, I had enough presence of mind to know that I didn’t actually want to die. I didn’t want to leave my child. I wanted to be happy, I just didn’t know what it was or where to find it.

I didn’t realise then that happiness does not exist in some other place or even necessarily in the present moment because – if we’re honest – many people’s present moments are absolutely horrible. And while they may help, quite often no amount of shifting perceptions or affirmations or prayers change the realities that some people are unfortunate enough to have to endure. I tried all of them. I thought if I was spiritual enough my situation would improve: I’d recover, my son’s behaviour would become manageable, and I’d finally be happy. What I now realise is that it was never really happiness I was after in the first place; it was inner peace.

Happiness is a temporary state that usually depends on external circumstances. Inner peace goes deeper. It’s our true state, existing beyond shifting thoughts and emotions and circumstances. If the self was a lake, happiness and other temporary emotions would be the ripples that come and go, subject to disturbances such as stones and twigs and boats, whilst inner peace is its depth.

When we go deeper, we realise that the present moment truly is the holy grail because it is only when we stop and pay attention to the now that we tune into the stillness of the lake that exists within us. We are no longer being thrown around at the complete mercy of what life throws at us. Whilst outer circumstances may be dreadful and cause immense pain and apparently endless suffering, we know that the strength and magnificence that lies within us is truly endless.

Moreover, when we connect to the stillness within, we access our Divine truth. We don’t see our thoughts and perceptions as the ultimate reality because we have experienced a greater reality. We will have the wisdom to know whether we can and should change the situation we are in, or whether to walk away, or there is nothing to be done but tap into the Divine power of acceptance.

This is far from easy. In my case, it took me seven more years before I reached rock bottom and realised what Divine wisdom was asking of me. It went so against the grain of what I, my ex, and indeed society, thought a mother should be. I was brought to my knees and you know what the saying goes – if life brings you to your knees, pray. Well I was so angry at God that I neglected my spiritual path for quite a few years. I didn’t understand why I was so ill, why I had a child with such difficulties, why my life had to be so hard. I still feel the pain. I had to make a very tough decision that affected me and those around me for many years. I felt immense guilt for a long time but it was the only decision I could have made.

I’m not in the terrible situation I was back then; in fact my outer life is quite peaceful all in all, only my thoughts and emotions cause disturbance. I am not always happy but I understand that happiness was never something to gain; it is something we experience at times, if we are fortunate. Being in touch with our natural state can inform our thoughts, emotions, and experiences for the better, but sometimes circumstances just hurt. In such times I remember the calm lake that is my true Divine nature and know that whatever disturbs me in life, I am safe. I connect deeply with my inner self, and I am at peace.

Self mastery, inner power, and justice

/ sarahlissyjenkins / Leave a comment

I wish I had the energy to write about all my tarot spreads but I’ve been struggling with a flare up of my health condition recently and had to take a step back from a lot of things. However, today’s spread is so fascinating that I just had to say something. I’m trying not to get caught in interpreting my spread too rationally and instead come from a place of intuition. The temptation can be to overthink it, especially as a beginner. But as soon as I pulled today’s cards I thought ‘wow’ and listened to my heart.

This spread is about self mastery. It points to ownership of my inner power. I am in touch with both sides of my nature – masculine and feminine- and I understand and work with my thoughts (swords) and emotions (cups). I have a good balance between emotions and rationality, or at least the potential is there to achieve this, and consequently I will experience greater intuition and creativity in my life. I am slowly feeling more stable in the midst of my emotional storms and know they will pass.

The minor arcana are positioned around one major arcana – The World – which represents completion and fulfilment. I am integrating all aspects of my being- the light and the dark. The fool is holding the wands of both of magician and the chariot – indicating that I have reached a place where I can embrace my inner power, which emerges from my soul, and willpower, which stems from the ego.

It is interesting that the Justice card is the over-riding one in this spread. Justice is concerned with morality and fairness, particularly on the physical plane, and the need to act in accordance with one’s greater good. A shadow aspect to this card is the fixation on life being unfair, especially in the case of a very challenging life, and I have my share of complaints. I think this card is reminding me that life IS fair and just in ways I do not understand, but my soul does, and I can choose to hold the vision of my greatest good in everything I do. In addition, it is a reminder to stay balanced and aware even in the face of great personal struggle.

The power of human kindness

/ sarahlissyjenkins / 4 Comments

In case anyone ever doubted it, even the most small acts of kindness make a real difference.

Years ago as a sixteen year old I went on holiday with my mum. It was a particularly painful holiday for me because I had to break up early for the summer break at college and miss a final week with a teacher who I was deeply attached to. Also, while away, I became very sick with some sort of bug, or possibly sun stroke, and ended up vomiting for a couple of days. Then, on the final day, my mum got very ratty with me although I can’t remember the details of this (probably blocked it out) only that it may have been over having little money as we were poor, albeit still had enough to scrape a summer holiday, but she blamed our financial situation on my father, just like she blamed everything on him.

My mum’s emotional state always affected me horribly, and I developed a severe headache while waiting in the hotel for our pick up bus to take us to the airport for our return flight. By the time we reached the airport and were standing in the queue for check in, I had a full blown migraine.

My mum was no good in these situations. As an adult myself, I now know that it wasn’t that she didn’t care; she just had little or no emotional energy left for me. She had depression while I was growing up, understandably given the circumstances we lived in, and her focus was on survival (and blaming my dad for everything). She has always been strong and resilient which serves her well now in terms of her ailing health, but back then her determination to plough on and give no time and attention to her emotions meant that she had little patience for her very sensitive and introspective youngest daughter (me).

I can’t remember what she said or did, only that she was sharp with me, and I went and sat on a seat in the centre of the airport where I could see the line of people queuing. I had my head in my hands. The pain was horrific. I’m not sure what was worse, the physical agony of the migraine or the sadness weighing on me. I can’t remember how long I sat there but at some point a man came over, sat with me, and asked if I was okay. I told him I had a bad headache. He went off to get me some painkillers and water.

Such a simple gesture but I still remember this 28 years later. It sticks in my mind because the loneliness I felt then – the disconnect from my mum and not being able to spend the final week with the teacher who I’d formed an emotional bond with – was debilitating. I didn’t even realise at the time how lonely I was because such devastating feelings are too much to process when the support structure isn’t there. A total stranger reached out and helped me when I most needed an act of kindness. That is why so many years later it still touches me.

Never underestimate a small act of kindness like this. It can absolutely make a difference, however insignificant it seems to be. One can never know how much it might be needed in ways that go beyond the surface. Knowing someone cares is the most powerful thing of all.

An ode to journal

/ sarahlissyjenkins / 2 Comments

Starting in childhood, I’ve been a prolific diary and journal writer, filling out pages upon pages with introspections and often deep emotional pain. I’ve kept them all. I rarely read back over them as I’ll be honest, most are horrifically painful to read, and easily send me back into a dark place. But neither can I throw them away. Sometimes I wonder whether holding onto them is the right thing to do and all I’m doing is clinging onto a past that has gone. Surely I should be willing to let them go, like everything else? The truth is that I can’t. The journals are the voice of the child, and later the teenager, who had virtually nothing and no one else, and to throw them away feels like dismissing her strength and courage to be her own person even when she felt invisible to the world.

It’s an interesting dilemma though and I often ponder how I’d feel if the journals were taken from me. Would I be devastated or relieved? Would I feel lighter and more present to my day to day self or as if I’d lost a part of me? The time may come when I won’t feel the need to keep them anymore because what they represented has become fully alive inside the self that I now am. In truth, I’m already there, but for now I am honouring the child through their presence.