Here Comes Trouble

I had another interesting dream last night (awww Mercury in Pisces, I love you).

Within the dream, I watched as a group started to pack up a mobile museum into the back of a large pickup truck.  I don’t know whether it was the mascot or what, but there was a live horse that was a part of this group.  They had packed him into the back of the truck first . . . like he was one of the inanimate objects of the museum.

He was laying on his left side.  His legs folded up and against the side of the truck closest to me.  He had straps going across to secure him and keep him from moving around too much during the trip.  They were going to pack the rest of the things in around him.  Someone was giving him a food dish, and said that he’d also need water so he didn’t die.

During all of this, my dream became more lucid.  I didn’t understand what was going on, so I was just observing.  But something was pulling on my feelings about it.

I never stopped looking at the horse . . . he was an off white color.  I very slowly continued to approach the vehicle as I tried to understand what was bothering me.

He just laid there.  He had just let them arrange him however he needed to be without fight or struggle.

This wasn’t setting well with me.  But based on the situation and how everything appeared . . . how everyone acted . . . there was nothing wrong.  Everything was exactly right and proper.

But I had a distant memory nagging at me . . . “but where is his spirit?

I had this distant knowing or memory of horses not being like this.  That at one time horses were symbolic of being wild and running free.

Why was it going against what this reality was showing me?  Why did I keep getting glimmers of  a feeling like I wanted to cry?  Why did something not feel right about this?

I looked into the horse’s eye.  I felt a connection with the horse.  It pulled on something deep within me that I had forgotten.  The feeling of wanting to cry kept coming and going from me like breathing.

The deeper I went into the connection between me and the horse, the stronger the need to cry became.  The more a forgotten memory started to come back to me.  The more I started to become aware of something so incredibly painful inside of me that I had purposely forgotten in order to get relief from it.

But it was also something I desperately missed.  Within that pain was something that I missed with all of my heart.

His will . . . his will was broken.

My will . . . my own will was broken when I was younger.

When trying to domesticate a horse . . . they must be “broken”.  To break an animal or a person is to break their own personal will in order to do the will of another.

There’s refining someone’s will in order to fit into society and get along with others.  That’s the whole Aries –> Libra axis.  When we’re first born, we have raw personal will.  As we grow older, we learn how to refine it into something more polished and hopefully more beautiful . . . but the person should still retain something of themselves in that process.

They should still have their own personal will.  This is the energy or thing that motivates us.  It’s how we know what we want.  It’s how we go after or approach challenges.  Do we go after what we want . . . or do we let the forces around us decide for us what we’re going to do or not do?

The wilder something is . . . the harder it is to break.  There are some things that aren’t meant to be tamed or domesticated.  Being wild and free . . . is who they are.  To see them broken . . . like the horse I saw in the back of the truck . . . is almost too much for my heart to handle.

There are those who are so controlling and filled with ego, that they will go to any length to break a wild thing’s will.  To show dominance.  To have a trophy.  To feel good about themselves because they are so lacking in confidence and will themselves.

Sometimes they think it’s for the wild thing’s own good, either they break it or the world will do it.  It’s perceived as an act of love.

Let me break you . . . so that you won’t have to suffer the pain of the world breaking you.

What a tangled web human’s weave.

In my chart . . . I’m about as wild and untamed as they get.

I had such willfulness when I was younger.  To the point that I had no concept of asking for permission to do anything.  If I was playing with some toys in the house and suddenly had an image of the park flash into my mind . . . then I’d simply stand up and walk out the house and go to the park.

I can’t imagine how many heart attacks I gave my parents.  I knew what I knew, and I knew what I wanted.  What they wanted did not register into my awareness at all.  It didn’t even make sense to me.  What did my wants and needs have to do with them?

My dad is from the Appalachian mountains.  You don’t get away with shit when you’re from the Appalachian mountains.  You either do as you’re told by your parents, or your ass is grass.

My ass was frequently grass.

This comes from having to survive in very harsh conditions in the mountains.  My dad’s family is from Irish heritage.  The Irish weren’t really wanted over here.  So they were forced into the areas that nobody else was able to survive, and forced to find a way to survive.  And they did.

I come from strong stock.

But it also forced the families into living in constant survival mode.  This means everything is a life or death circumstance.  This means, when your parents tell you to go do something, you don’t sit there and whine and break down that you’re scared.  It means you suck it up and get your ass out there, or everyone may die.

So then the getting your ass whipped every time you disobey becomes understandable.  It’s to keep you from dying.  It *is* being done from a place of love.  The thing is, after a few generations . . . you no longer remember why it was done, only that it is.

So even though I didn’t grow up in those circumstances, I was raised as if I was.  But obviously, something needs to change.  This means that eventually in one of the generations, someone is going to be treated that way as a child . . . but they’re going to have to find the strength and will to overcome it and NOT break the will of their own children.

And that someone would need to have an enormous amount of will.

So . . . ta-da.

As my favorite shirt said when I was growing up, “Here comes trouble”.

All I know, is that my dad must’ve REALLY loved me.  Because that man did not back off or give up in trying to get me to understand the rules.  I would’ve been exhausted trying to raise me.

My mom’s family is more from a refined societal background.  I supposed considered more “civilized”.  But the dark side to Libra, or the sign of refined manners and all things beautiful and harmonious, is in becoming so passive that you basically check out of doing anything for yourself.

So my dad did severe disciplining, and my mom stood back and did nothing and just kind of checked out and became a victim.  Libra can also be kind of judgey.  Sit and judge the “animalstic” behavior of others, while not seeing their own part in what is playing out and not doing anything about it for themselves.

My dad always looked like the bad guy.  My mom always looked like a victim.  But if one had the ability to look at the energetic dynamics playing underneath the surface of what was being shown . . . and I did and I do . . . then you can see that my mom was equally at fault.

But our society is only interested in making judgments based on what can be seen and proven, and so until we get past such juvenile thinking . . . we will continue to have aggressors and victims and cannot progress past wars and people going hungry.

So I’m not interested in hearing that I was severely abused.  Maybe I was.  Maybe I wasn’t.  It doesn’t matter.  All I’m interested in, is stopping the bullshit from continuing past my generation.

However, I do need to recognize what happened when I was younger so that I can put myself back together and be an agent of true change in the world.

My will was broken when I was younger.  It was so severe, that I literally broke my lower back when I was around 6 or 7.

I was in Germany and sledding by myself.  The snow was so slick from all the people sledding earlier in the day, that my sled went way too fast.  In short I ended up face down in the middle of the road, paralyzed from the waist down.  And down the hill to my right was a big ass car coming, and they weren’t going to be able to see me in time.

So I closed my eyes and pulled on everything within me, and I willed myself to move.  I didn’t want to die SO BAD . . . that I literally willed my paralyzed self to move enough to get to the sidewalk.  I got out of the way in time, and the car stopped anyways to ask if I was okay.  I said I was fine.

I spent the next hours in excruciating pain crawling an inch at a time to get back to my building and up the stairs.  The whole time I was willing myself better.  By the time I got to my mom, who was thankfully at a neighbors on the first floor instead of our fourth floor, all I could manage to get out of my mouth was that I had a stomach ache.  I said I wanted to throw up.

So she gave me Pepto-Bismol and had me lay down.  That was the last I thought about my lower back, until years later as an adult, when I got a 360 degree x-ray at a chiropractor’s office and the guy’s eyes about fell out of his head.  He wanted to know when I had broken my back.  I looked, and yes . . . it was scary looking . . . but mostly because it wasn’t until then that I had understood fully what I had done all those years ago.

It had snapped, twisted a little and fused itself back together, causing a slight curve in my spine.

So will.  I haz it.  Or I did.

After that day . . . my will became less and less.  Because I was young I had a lot of energy still . . . but never quite the willfulness I had before.  I quit fighting things so much.  I quit wanting things my way.

I had been broken.  Literally.

I do believe that things happen how they’re meant to.  I needed to know life without my willfulness so that I did understand the Libra side of things.  And the only way that was going to happen, is if it was severe enough.

Once I had done what I needed to in that broken state . . . it was time for me to heal that break in me and come back to myself.

So while staring into the eyes of the horse . . . I began to remember a previous existence from when I was a younger girl.

A time when I had such spirit and a strong will to live.  A time when my spirit ran free and I believed I could do anything.

A time when I wasn’t afraid of being myself around others.

I’m returning to that part of me, but there’s a difference between now and then.

Back then, I didn’t know what it was that I had that the other’s around me lacked.  I didn’t know what set me apart from anyone else.  I didn’t know what to call the energy and joy and spunk that naturally came out of me.

But now I can see that it was will.  It was confidence.  It was an open-heartedness to life.  It was love.  It was joy and hope.  It was the essence of life itself.  A flame of life that lives within me.

After having gone without it for so long, I now know the value of what I hold inside of me.  I know how rare and precious it is in the current world, and it’s up to me to protect and guard it . . . to never let it go out in me again.

I am and have something of value.

When I’m respected and valued by others, I am more than happy to share all I have with others.

But try to take it from me by force, or keep it for your own, or treat me like I’m not worth your time . . .

Then Here Comes Trouble.

zebra kick to the face

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