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Becoming a Clear Vessel

When I started taking classes, researching and diving into this work, I spent a lot of time really navigating through my old stuff, the past experiences, trauma and hurt. It was difficult, sometimes painful. Those closest to me would ask why I kept going. Why do you keep taking these classes? Why do you keep searching out answers? Don’t you get tired of constantly being curious and asking the question? I always said, no, I don’t. It’s true that I didn’t always know exactly what I was doing it for and certainly didn’t know what this was going to look like at the end of the day, but what I did know is I wanted, and it’s still my desire, to be the clearest vessel possible in order to help people navigate their own journey.

In fact, I wish everybody did this. I wish everybody who is in a place to hear and help and understand other people did this. Because it makes a difference.

When somebody comes in to have a conversation or brings forward a situation that they’ve been navigating, I want to be able to see them and their situation in the most unbiased, nonjudgmental way possible. I want to reflect love and compassion.

When we are not clear vessels, when we are still clouded by the clunkiness and energy of our own experiences and some of our own triggers, the conversations we have with someone else get diverted into conversations about ourselves. Suddenly, we’re no longer in the conversation with that other person. The conversation is taking place in our own mind instead. That’s when we say something like, “Oh, my gosh, I know exactly what you’re going through.The same thing happened to me.” We start getting riled up about it and suddenly, we’re trying to solve their problem in order to solve our own.

It’s kind of like playing a record. The person is talking, the record is playing and you’re listening and really understanding. Then they hit a point that triggers something in you, and you pick up that needle and you take it right back over to the beginning. Suddenly, it’s too much. You’re triggered to a point where you can’t ask that next curious question to help the person who came to you. You can’t take them around another turn in the maze, because it’s become too terribly uncomfortable.

We’re not serving ourselves or anybody else by not navigating through our own experiences, our own emotions, or our own traumas, because when we don’t, we’re not able to see somebody else clearly. In order to do this work, I have to overcome every fear connected with my own experience. A lot of people aren’t willing to do that. That’s the hard work, but that’s also where bravery and courage come into play.

For me, it started by declaring that I would not live my life as a sick individual, so I had to do whatever it took to heal. The insomnia was so frustrating. I’d come to hate the world at 4 A.M. because I’d lay awake, frustrated and crying, night after night, while the rest of the world was sleeping. That’s what started it.

So I asked my questions, took my journey, and healing came. Then I realized that, if I can navigate healing for me, I want to be able to help other people navigate it, too. I want to be a really honest, open, and amazing friend. I want to be a really compassionate individual who navigates through this world non-judgmentally. I want to be able to see people for the beauty they are.

We are misguided by our own reflection. When we look in the mirror, we’re looking through the constructs of all of the tragedy, all of the emotion, all of the experiences, the subconscious mind, and the limitations. We can’t see the truth that lies inside of us. Looking in the mirror is a static activity. We have to pull the thread. We have to take action. The only way to see our truth is to pull off the scabs. Layer by layer, pulling the thread. If we do that consistently, eventually our reflection will shift and change, and then we will see ourselves as the pureness of that clear vessel.