Today's topic is: Spiritual Deaths.
Fun, right?
Spiritual death is part of the life-death-rebirth journey that cyclically plays out in our lives. It is not something that is particularly fun to go through--it feels horrible while you’re in it--but it is something that moves you forward.
Spiritual death moves you somewhere better, closer to Wholeness, into deeper relationship with the Divine.
After encountering multiple spiritual deaths, I surrender more quickly than I did when I was younger and had less experience. I approach them more willingly. (I still hate it. It's still awful. I still kick and scream and throw temper tantrums. I say "fuck this shit" a lot. And as I'm doing that, I'm also surrendering to the process. Yes, shouting "fuck this shit" is part of the process.)
Each spiritual death is unique to the individual and also to the space that individual is in at the time. The deaths that I went through as a teenager, and in my 20s, and in my 30s, were all very different experiences. But they hold some similarities.
One of the similarities is that you get into a funk: things don't feel right. When it’s time to let go of one way of being in the world (spiritual death), something has to make you move.
There is a point where moving is less scary than staying where you are.
So when life starts feeling really hard, that is an indicator. Not hard like "oh, I have a lot of hard things I need to get done, this is challenging,” but an internal sensory level that something's off. “I don't feel connected. I don't feel grounded. I don't feel centered."
When talking about internal processes, it is extremely useful to choose a metaphor that speaks to the journey. The visceral images contained within the metaphor locate your current position, identify where you want to end up, and show how to get there. They help you process through and understand the journey you are on. There are a diverse variety of metaphors to explore, such as Darkness, a Cave, being Underwater, a Burnt Out Fire.
For this example, we'll use the metaphor of a Path.
Imagine you're on your Path. You're walking along and things are going pretty well. You're doing what you need to do, one foot in front of the other.
You come upon a Thicket of Briars. You start feeling your clothes caught, you're getting pulled back and down. Or unexpectedly it's nighttime and there are weird, glow-y eyes in the bushes and odd sounds. You feel alone, like just a moment ago you were protected and now things feel scary. You might feel sorrow, longing, anger, or fear, or all of those feelings at once.
A common response to seeing the Thicket of Briars is to say, "oh, no. I'm not going in there. That's stupid. I'm going to go back the way I came." That's a totally legit response. You untangle yourself from the briars that cling to you and you head back to where you were before.
Retreating usually works for a while and likely you will be confronted at another point with the opportunity to die. Because that’s how we progress. How we level up. It might not be a Thicket of Briars next time--maybe it’s Quicksand or a Cave or a Whirlpool--but something will present itself as an opportunity to go through a death in order to be reborn. We want to be reborn, we want to evolve, we want to further ourselves. Spiritual death is an instrument for growth.
Another scenario within the same metaphor is that you don’t remember stepping into it, but suddenly a Thicket of Briars has grown up around you. In this context, no matter where you go is going to involve a lot of work.
A common first response to finding yourself in the Thicket is to sit down and refuse to move. In fact, part of the process can be to collapse into a heap and refuse to move for a bit.
Maybe you weep a little and feel really sorry for yourself. Again, totally legit. But eventually you have to get up and move forward.
If you are in a Thicket of Briars, you're going to have to move through briars. You have to figure out how to move so that your clothes don't get caught--or maybe you just take off your jacket. To endure the you might have to move in a different way than you are used to, wear different clothes, identify new defenses. And you might need to find help.
Help is often in our vicinity when we need it. Perhaps off to the side, or up on a branch. We can't stay with our head down, mourning our situation.
We have to raise our eyes and look for where that help is.
Who can offer sound advice?
Who has left a gift for us? (“A new pair of pants, perfect! I needed a new pair of pants!”)
Who is available to give you a boost, a lift, a hand?
And then, ta da!, you can move forward through this Thicket and come out on the other side.
It will still be challenging, there will be frustrations, you're going to get scratched, but you will make it through. When you emerge, you’ll probably be very dirty, possibly a little bloody, but you’ll be okay. You'll be alive. And not only will you be alive, but you will be alive in a new way.
You'll be reborn out of a Thicket and able to perceive and engage the world in a new way. And perceive and engage yourself in a new way.
You continue along your Path. Eventually, you'll encounter another opportunity to die. Because that's how it works. That's the Mythic Cycle we embody as individuals, as a culture, as a world: life-death-rebirth.
After a few deaths, you’ll recognize the signs that death is coming. “Oh yeah, that's totally a spiritual death coming at me.” And you can surrender to the process.
Using the Thicket example, you might say, “alright, that's a Thicket of Briars. I know I want to be on the other side of that. I know I have to go through it, so I'm going to protect myself. I’m going to wear heavier clothes. I'm going to bring a snack. I’m going to look for where someone's gone before me and utilize their clearing away of the path."
When you prepare appropriately, you can get through death a little easier.
Now “easier” still sucks. That’s how death is. Death feels like you are dying. You can't fake it. (Well, you can fake it for a little while while you find the groove.) You have to befriend the animals. You have to answer the riddles. You have to complete the tasks. It's a transition. You have to do the work in order to get through. And you can get through.
It sucks so much less if you have someone to give you good guidance, to point out what the dangers are, to throw you a lifeline when you need it.
Someone who helps you find the humor, who sheds light in dark areas, who understands how shadows work. It's valuable to have the counsel of wise humans who have gone before and understand how these transitions work.
Traveling interior landscapes with a companion makes the journey more joyful because you have someone on your team, on your side. You feel more uplifted and more confident. You laugh more. You are better able to enact your healing. Your guide supports, affirms, gives you good information, and sometimes gives you a kick in the pants.
You do the actual work and you heal yourself.
Here are some questions to ask yourself when you find yourself in that “off” space:
What in your life needs to be confronted?
What needs to be resolved?
What metaphor resonates with you for this process?
Where are you now? What is the landscape? What is the topography?
What are the dangers and what are the gifts--and how do you identify them?
Make notes of what works and what doesn’t, of missteps so you don’t repeat them. Perhaps during a previous death what you thought was a healing remedy turned out to be a poisonous plant. The next time you’ll avoid that mistake and your guide can point out the medicine across the road.
Full disclosure: When you're reborn it is usually not a triumphant climax with angels singing. It can be, but more often it is its own kind of struggle.
It is difficult to re-enter into the light after being in the dark. It is difficult to re-enter the world with a new set of qualities, new ways of seeing, new ways of hearing.
You’re not the same as you were before and you have to figure out how you now operate in the physical world, what nourishes you, how you contribute. This is literally awesome. And also arduous at times. Keep your third eye open for precious and vital kindred spirits.
Recap:
Spiritual deaths feel dreadful, but lead to new life.
Get help when you need it.
You got this.
When you need someone to accompany you through the forest,
help you out of the pit,
or illuminate the gifts hidden just in front of you,
Katie Carey is a spiritual midwife, community herbalist, and theater artist devoted to real-izing the Emerging Story.
Katie spent 10 years doing theater in the Northwest, followed by 8 years of theater in Chicago. She then decided what she really wanted to do was raise a family in a hand-built hobbit hole in the middle of a mud puddle on a Montana farm. So that’s what’s happening now.
Katie's works include How to Re-Ignite Your Internal Fire, Foul-Mouthed Mystic, Vasilisa + Baba Yaga (or: How to Destroy Your Enemies without Losing Your Soul), Excommunicated! The Musical, New Creation Stories for the Emerging Paradigm, The Real Life Adventures of Lizzy and Rilla, and Solitaire.
Katie has degrees in theater and spirituality, so she can act like she cares.
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