A late rebellion...

There's so much more.

I was not a rebellious teen. I was a jerk, probably. But not rebellious.
I loved rules and I loved getting ‘conscientious’ on every single report card I ever received.
I absolutely did not have ‘party days.’
I had Potter days. Where I stayed in bed and read about Hogwarts.

In my early twenties, I recall attending a women’s conference where the theme was ‘There’s so much more.’
I got a free umbrella with this phrase on it. (Please note: This will be the first of many references to the fact that I love free stuff. I come from a large family where affluence was something that happened when you ate beans.)

In my mid twenties, I hit a wall. Completely devoid of energy and the ability to get out of bed, I began exploring diagnoses such as chronic fatigue to find some answers. I felt as though my battery was constantly flat. Any responsibility made me very anxious and overwhelmed.
I could no longer human the way everyone else was human-ing.

I spent a very long time wondering if something was wrong with me.
Or if, in fact, I was deepening into a mystical truth about how far current life and culture has strayed from being anything even remotely sustainable.

I quit work and decided to just try and sort myself out. I always thought I’d make a great detective.

It seemed to be some combination of mental, emotional and physical exhaustion, but the origin was somewhere deep in my soul.
I opted to name my recovery ‘Restoring The Heart,’ as an ode to my favourite mythological tale, ‘Moana.’

Something had gone missing somewhere along the line.
A vital life force.
The repercussions were deep and wide, and left me full of lava and bitterness.
I was the TeKa to my former TeFiti.

It was here in the depths of a forced stillness and solitude, that I began to pull apart life (and myself) as I knew it.

I didn’t start big. Or passionately.
I didn’t ‘go hard or go home.’

I reluctantly began to walk.
I walked and I wondered.

And so began a journey of questioning. I questioned everything I had ever held as truth, or understood as unmovable fact.

* Why had I spent most sunlight hours and my most playful years, at a desk in classrooms that taught me little about life and a lot about obedience?
* Why, in Christianity, is every intuitive knowing and every profound mystical encounter held under the subjective scrutiny of ‘is it Biblical?’
* Why are people working so much and dying so much? (Linked these for a reason. Think I’m pretty clever…)
* Why is everything so compartmentalised? Gym session. Family time. Work hours. Down time.
* And WHY is everyone washing their faces so often?

Each day, I would go for a walk down the dirt road we lived on.
I would converse with the great spirit of the earth.
I would greet the trees and thank the sun for her medicine. Yes. I became a hippie. There’s no going back now.
I cried and laughed and raged and pretended I had been running the whole time, on the rare occasion that a tractor drove past.

And so began my sacred rebellion.
Where the world began to shift and expand, and so too did I.
I learnt that there really is so much more.
This became a guidepost for my wonderings.
It was mysterious and confusing and spiritual.

It was a rewilding.
A Mystical Rebellion of sorts.

A freedom I never knew I needed.