Discernment about a longing
by N J Howell
Have you ever just felt like you wanted to live somewhere in particular? Have you felt drawn to a certain area or part of the world? Have you thought that something was calling you to be there, perhaps your soul calling you to a different life in a different place?
I have felt this several times in my life. I've discovered, in actually pursuing the urge, the pull, the being drawn toward, that sometimes, what was drawing me was my woundedness and not my I AM Self.
The intriguing way this first came to my attention was when I went to Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. I had done an online test to see where was the one place on the planet I would like best and Truth or Consequences was the answer.
When I finally did go to Truth or Consequences, probably a decade after the longing set in to be there, it was not at all the experience I expected. I saw that there were elements there directly related to wounded aspects of myself from a decade ago and that my Soul had protected me.
I saved myself from going somewhere that, instead of helping me become more of my I AM presence in the world, may have plummetted me headlong into a wounded existence for a long time. I'm grateful I didn't go when the longing first surfaced.
In saying this, I'm not saying that Truth or Consequences is not exactly right for some folks who feel drawn to go there. What I've noticed, though, is that each city has history on both sides of the vibratory track. There are dense thoughtforms and energies as well as enlightened, lighter vibratory energies.
What was drawing me to T or C a decade ago was definitely the former. When I went there with a lot of that woundedness healed, I realized I did not resonate with the area whatsoever.
History Repeats Itself:
Asheville, NC is an area I've felt drawn to for at least the past 15 years. I finally went and took the trolley tour. As I rode down the streets and listended to the tour guide, it was as if I was listening to a guide tell about different aspects of my young life, around age 12 thru 18.
I heard about the TB sanitariums (my grandfather died with tb and at one time, I thought I had it because the health department didn't do a very good job of explaining my test results).
Although I don't recall knowing there were sanitariums in Asheville, I did read a book on them in case I was sent to one. In that book, the sanitariums were described as these light-filled rooms where people bathed in the healing light of the sun. That sounded wonderful to me.
I saw the place where Zelda Fitzgerald died in a fire, chained to her bed. She was chained to her bed, as were the other patients who died that night, because of electroshock therapy. She was in a psychiatric facility that burned to the ground from a fire of unknown origin.
I was pretty much obsessed with Zelda at one very wounded part of my life. She was brilliant and romantic and poetic and tragic, just like me at that time. I felt such a kinship with her and also with F. Scott.
I rode past the hotel where F. Scott partied til dawn, living a life I thought I wanted because it was nostalgic and romantic and poetically melancholy. It felt like a way to make the tragedies in my own life softer, to see them through the rose-colored glasses of distraction.
I rode past Tom Wolfe's house and heard how he grew up, having to sleep with strange people in his mom's boarding home. Back then, if they had paying guests, they'd just put them in bed with each other. Hard to believe but true. So, he never had space of his own. Having space of my own has been a lifelong desire and Tom was yet another promise that something good, creative, inspiring might come out of my pain.
Tom Wolfe died of TB of the brain. Who even knew there was such a thing? My Grandfather died of TB and what used to be called heart dropsy.
Even the arts district, which I thought would stir in me a reason to be there, looked run down and plain and not attractive at all, though I realize this area would have been very attractive to a younger me who thought it romantic and poetic to be a starving artist in a warehouse loft apartment.
I began to recognize that the person riding the trolley that day was not the person who was drawn to live in Asheville. The person who had been drawn there no longer existed. She had released her woundedness in those areas.
So all this brings me to a realization that just because I am drawn toward something, that doesn't mean I resonate with it. I may well be dragging along some old tapes about myself and what I want.
How do I tell the difference? One clue is linear time actions. If it takes me ten years to get somewhere, that might be a clue that my soul is dragging my feet for a reason. If the choice is in alignment and I am being drawn for a soul-level reason, there could be more flow and a rapid shift toward what is drawing me forward.
Important Note: In speaking about what drew me to Asheville, or T or C, I am not saying it isn't the perfect place for many others. As I said before, there are light and dense energies in any city. What was drawing me was the darker energies and frequencies of Asheville's history.
There may also be those who are drawn to specific places to directly confront their woundedness and gain mastery over it. For me, that seems the old way and tied to a lot of struggle and hard work that no longer "works" for me.
To release thoughtforms and beliefs that are limiting me, I choose to go to a place where there are vibrational energies that are higher and stronger than what I am ready to release.