By Vera Mygdala
I can’t even say how many times I have died in only this lifetime. I’ve become really good at it.
I went through so many cycles of death and rebirth. So much that was not „me“, not „my essence“ was dying off. Mental concepts, individual and collective non-spiritual and spiritual stories, emotional trauma and conditioning, all kinds of limiting beliefs I had about myself and the world, about relationships, about love, about good and bad, dark and evil, about lack and money and fame… I can’t even name all the things and stories and roles that I (or my ego) had identified with in order to have a sense of self and something that would define me, as ME.
Countless times the ego tricked me back into new identities to attach to, new stories to believe and fully engage in, either making me feel minor or small, or more important and more powerful than others. The ego just needs this separation and comparison to even exist. Round after round, I died, I rebirthed, I died, I rebirthed. As the shy kid that had no friends in school, as the aggressive teenager that took what she wanted, as the poor hotel employee that had a lot of extra jobs to make her living, as the good house wife, as the rebel anarchist punk girl groupie, as the university A-Student, as the professional badass Head of Corporate Communications and Marketing, as the mesmerizing public speaker, as the journalist, as the Twin Flame, as the Lightworker and Wayshower to save the planet, as the New Earth Prophet, the gridworker, the Life Coach, etc. etc.
It did not matter which narrative and identity I chose, I did not end up feeling happy and fulfilled. I was still searching for something outside of me. Still attached to some hope or dream in the future.
Until I died the death of identity in January this year. It all just fell off. Complete detachment. I could no longer plug into or engage in any story out there, or any story I had made up about me. It became so irrelevant and meaningless. I lost any interest in other people’s stories. My magnetics reversed and I was no longer driven by anything outside of me. I started creating from the inside out.
That is when physical embodiment actually started. I could feel my physical body disintegrating. Time capsules that were stored in the cellular memory, like opening a compressed zip file exploded and released randomly, bubbles of deep cellular trauma from countless generations, collective identity and pain from the whole family lineage just bursted and brought me onto my physical knees again and again, into a phyisical exhaustion I had never felt before. There were no stories attached, just feeling emotions as the energy left. My body was changing shape and form every day, blowing up and then losing weight again. I could feel the whole cellular structure imploding, reordering and restructuring. Nerves were activating and electricity was running through my body. I often felt so sensitive as if I had no skin. Any physical touch was too much. It feels like the nervous system completely connected into the energetic system, and I needed to get used to this physical intensity of feeling. Old ways of enjoyment, be it food, sexuality, kissing, physical excitement (my favourite sports) became meaningless and boring.
Step by step it took me back into the phyical zero-point before all creation started. I realized that everything that had kept us engaged in the old game is us trying and working harder for the goals our mind was choosing next. The carrot that kept us going. The moment we let go, and we actually go backwards, until we are that innocent child again before all conditioning happened, changes everything and speeds up our transformation in unprecedent ways.
I am in a physical zero point now. A complete nothingness. Nothing to do, nothing to feel, nothing to look for, nothing to strive for, nothing to change, nothing to save. I am back in the womb, feeling a physical birth into a new world coming. Until then I am just floating and letting the inner transformation happen. I cannot plug into the old physical environment anymore. I have no interest in being in a city or in a house built in a linear way. I have no physical activity I feel I still need to accomplish before I can leave. No travels, no sports, no adventures, no places, no people to meet. Nothing to build in the old way. No desires, no wishes, no hopes, no dreams. Just NO-THING. The only thing left is the growth pain, as the shell and linear structures of my old physical body are changing and preparing for a new, unknown world outside this womb I am in. I feel an inner peace like never before.
When I went through the death of identity, I wrote: „I am not sure if my physical body will come along“.
I know now – it will.