I recently returned from a ceremony, working with one of the great master plants.

My intention/ prayer was to rest in true stillness, the solid ground of Being.

I arrived exhausted on a level that goes way beyond the physical. A depletion, heaviness, an unspeakable sadness…. perhaps you know the kind.

For weeks and months, huge life decisions had left me floundering in a tumultuous sea of indecision, bereft of a clear vision.

Unfamiliar skies for me, who for so long has soared with the Eagle.

Now it was time to be the amoeba. Bring it back to basics. Dirt time, with the worms.

Decisions around relationships, commitment, where to live, how to live, how to choose between visions that on one day seemed let-go-able and then the next utterly non-negotiable….

….hearts on the line, mind torn asunder, flip-flopping from one idea to the next, selling to myself like a Persian rug merchant, lurching forward one moment, scurrying back the next….

All the while an anxiety building like plaque in my gut….

Pain, anguish and fear…. from bush fires tearing through Gondwana land’s ancient rainforests….. and crackling hot through collective consciousness …. infiltrating my psyche like thick smoke…

Then there was the Vision Quest, a beautiful ordeal that left me stunned, reeling and cracked open from a humbling so needed yet so severe…. my ego took a mortal wound.

In the raw aftermath of Quest I had had the audacity to casually claim this land we quested upon was for just for men’s business.

What arrogance. I didn’t even check in with She who invited us onto the land!

Days later I received a stinging message of wrath from this Wise woman who has been chosen to be the custodian of this sacred valley we Quest upon…..

In the arrows she fired was a witches spell, and an unavoidable truth I could not look away from.

I saw the ways of my father in my actions…. and his father, and his father and all the men going back to I don’t know when….

….standing over, claiming, pressuring, conquering, dominating, owning, burning…. ideas, women, places, forests, temples, land….

I couldn’t look away or un-see once the wound was open…. and all the subtle and not so subtle thoughts, patterns and behaviours paraded themselves across my mind and jabbed into my open heart.

Vision Quest energy will smack you in the face, uppercut to the balls, double-barrel shotgun to the chest… whatever it takes to get you curled up on the ground begging for forgiveness.  

Initiation business, rites of passage… rituals of remembrance.

This is serious shit, to change time-lines, and heal the trauma of belief and prejudice epigenetically passed on through DNA on the great tree of ancestry.

Becoming a (hu)man requires feeling the wounds passed down, so new choices can be made, new scars can be inflicted, skin shed to mark the transition…. Gotta earn your dues. Arrogance will be punished.

…and so for weeks I have been a silent witness to the pus seeping from ancestral wounds, and I have been doubled over in grief, the wind knocked out of me…..  humbled good and proper.

Deep, body-wracking, quivering grief. Curled up, sobbing, heart aching tears.

The hitherto un-reachable pains of my ancestors shaking through me… detonation, aftershocks, tsunami’s of grief smashing, tearing, destroying, slashing through my ego-mind…. burning through cellular memory files, rewiring my DNA… breaking chains of inherited separation from the Great Mother.

After the wildfire of pain was the confusion…. the sheer potentiality of rebirth was too much for the limited container of mind.

And so I spun leg over arm, shoulder over bum through the cosmos, unable and unwilling to trust my mind, or any personal identity I had previously decided to anchor to….

Falling and falling…. spinning and spinning like a leaf that falls from the branch, into the void…..


Have you ever lifted an ancient rock… one that has almost certainly not been lifted from its resting spot on the Earth since some eruption or Giant from the other world hurled it?

I have lifted such rocks, and peered into the black soil, to where the sun has not shone for millennia.

Black gold. Ancient stillness. Pre-cognitive silence. Pure potential.

It was in that place I found myself in a few days ago, in the ceremony.

And in it I lay, and silently shook out the trauma, wobbled out the grief from my bones, sinew and flesh… sung out my prayers of remembrance and renewal.

And I found what I prayed for, the depths of Being… and the Earth held me solid, listened to my songs, honoured my sincerity… and prepared me for re-birth.

Here is a poem about  where I went to prepare:

~ The Temple of Knowing ~

I came home
To the place
Of no beginnings
Or endings

There I stayed
A while,
Put down my
Took off my shoes

I let my body
Be soothed
By the caress
Of gentle waves
Lapping on the
Shores of eternity

And witnessed mind
Be emptied clean
Of ideas, beliefs
And cravings

I shimmied free
Slid and wriggled
As a once caught fish
Back into the lake
Of original wisdom

I lifted the
Great stone of time
And lay in the dank soil
With the worms

To do
But expand into love
And nowhere
To go but deeper
Into silence

I stay here
And become reclaimed
By primordial stillness
I once ran from,

Allowing each
shivering breath
To imbue every
Vibrating cell

With the peace,
Joy, Bliss,
And the remembrance of wholeness
That resides within
The deepest sanctums of
This most sacred place,
The Temple of Knowing.


And so we arrive, at the end of the year, a time of new beginnings. This year for me has been about self-initiating, guiding myself across frontiers to become worthy of the work I do.

Next year, we step up again.

2 Vision Quests, countless ceremonies, The Flow School will open…. there will be much celebration, dancing, singing and praying. Come join us.

Sending you the deepest blessings on your journey to remember the wholeness that you are.

in flow, Jiro

[Image by Jordy Meow from Pixabay]

Also published on Medium.

Jiro Taylor

Author Jiro Taylor

I'm a mystic, artist and founder of Flowstate. My jam is connecting with the source of life and joining its flow.

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