Tag: wisdom

The Greater The Depth The Darker It Gets: Pioneering The Pathless Path

Whether the ocean, the earth, the cosmos or the psyche….the greater the depth the darker it gets.

Shadows still exist because they are the egregores of our ego. But, their borders bleed into the blackness. Doing the inner work here is harder. You can’t see anything at all. You can’t feel anything at all. You can’t smell anything. And, there is no flavor. Yet it is not “nothingness.” When taken to this depth you experience sensory deprivation and your integration process looks much less coherent than what is trending and being discovered in even the health and holistic wellness world. Things like Kundalini awakening, or plant medicine trips, or exorcisms, carry a busy energy of a human life trying to survive and progress. There is a frenzied, frenetic, frantic, or even euphoric feel to these processes.
And while they all are wonderful rites in and of themselves they are also in and of themselves mere entries into a life that is pure consciousness, awareness. They can serve as portals to important journeys but they are just that….keyholes through which we get to peer into what’s next….beyond the body and beyond the mind.

As one who speaks from the deep….I’m understanding there is a disabling stillness that overtakes the psyche that forces the soul to switch off to allow our spirit to come online. We depart from understanding the world and the people around us physically because we experience a break, a disconnect from the physical even while we are still in the body and we sojourn into a metaphysical knowingness.

From physical understanding to metaphysical knowing. This is the path of shamans, healers, oracles, prophets, and poets. This is where the pathless path begins. This transition is the junction where we meet other souls who are longing to go deeper but need the guidance of those of us who had no choice but to pioneer the poignancy of what its like to live between worlds.

For years I’ve felt a jealousy, a scornful envy even of those who never seem to venture below the surface. The ease that they experience in their unawareness has seemed so unfair to me. And up until my mother’s death, which has carried a level of complexity that no one should have to experience, I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand why so many people get to walk around having done little to no inner work, existing in pure ego completely unbothered, and untouchable in spite of the harm that their willful ignorance has caused.

But, now I do. I do get it. I believe there is a subconscious mechanism within each of us that will allow us to go only so far into understanding humanity, emotions, spirit, soul, shadow. It is the “thing” within us that determines when it is our own unique time to learn certain lessons. And until it’s time to learn those lessons….these people act as lessons to those of us who are inwardly turned.

We learn how to deal gently with a collective that isn’t ready. We learn how to meet people where they are….without judging who they are. In the end its all about survival. The survival of the body. The survival of the psyche. The survival of the soul. The survival of our spirits that get so attached to the identity of our physical existence and feel terrified at the thought of the moment it loses the body. Because that will happen for all of us. We are all moving towards that moment of no longer being “the us that we know.” The us that is grouchy when we wake up. The us that looks in the mirror and sees thinning hair, banging bods, stretch marks, chiseled jaw lines, on point brows, and unwanted chin hair.

There is life in the deep. Beyond the body. And, beyond the mind. I’m here. But, I’ll be back. And, when I come back…I’m bringing my soul with me. I’m not politically correct. I’m not religiously correct. I fit in no where but because of this I’m equipped to go everywhere. Spreading boundlessly as threads of my energy finds the energy of other wandering souls like mine.

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Alchemizing Our Loads: A Dedication To The Women In My Circle

I am a tree of life but my branches are breaking

And the thought of enforcing boundaries leaves me shaking

I knew this day would come. The catalyst has arrived.

But her appearance is nothing I could have surmised

The cool soil beneath the souls of my feet

This well-worn path formed by my heart beat

Everything! Everything is important to me. My heart wants to hold it all

My wise woman’s words telling me I can’t carry it all or I’ll fall

From an ancient wild forest she emerged from a bank of dew-laden moss

And she says to me “no, my child some of what you’re carrying is dross”

Statuesque with a tall basket upon her own head

She pulls from my load things that I dread

Complex emotions and situations from my past

I hadn’t realized so much had amassed

Ancestral traumas and narratives that defeat

She placed her hands on my own and laid these at my feet

We’re going to the stream she said…there’s cleansing work that needs to be done

We’re going to alchemize your load until your battle is won

Wading out into an emerald green pool

The water so refreshingly cool

Together we reached a briskly swirling eddy

She looked deep into my eyes and asked, “are you ready?’

“Lay your burdens down in the stream and watch them flow away

I’m teaching you how to release through the magic of play”

As I laid my burdens down into the bubbling flow

I felt a rush of tickles on my legs as I watched them go

My consternation gave way to a relieved smile

I looked at the creek bank where there was waiting for me a tiny pile

The wild wise woman began splashing her way back to the shore

I danced in her wake and reveled in her lore

Through her parabolic ways I learned how to discern piece by piece

What to carry close to my heart and what to release

As we stood together on solid ground I gathered to my chest

My lighter load that resembled a nest

Suddenly I noticed I had grown wings

And that they were made up of broken things

This leg of my journey now felt so complete

My energy and joy had become replete

It truly did all work together for my good

The profundity of my strength was being understood

As she walked away the wise woman gazed up to a clear bright sky

As she uttered the words, “and now you know why”

© Cozett Dunn July 25th, 2023

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Naked In The Wake Of The Reaper: Reflection On The Emotions Of Moving Forward While Mourning

Navigating forward through grief to get back into daily routine feels like crawling through a briar patch. Trying to present yourself to the world as grounded as one possibly can be 35 days from something that was so dark and complicated and even macabre can feel unfair. inauthentic. I’m calm, kind, productive, caring, sensitive, and…trying. But, there is an inherent awkwardness in this space. It’s like being in public naked but trying not to “feel” like you’re naked. Being naked but trying to obscure the more offensive parts of yourself so that you don’t end up incurring the misunderstanding or discomfort of others. As a trauma survivor and an empath who is doubly sensitized from trauma the discomfort of others….feels dehumanizing to me.

I never could have anticipated the tangled mess of absolutely contrasting emotions that would arise from my mother’s death. And this bothers me because I’ve always been able to anticipate my own emotions. It’s kept me safe since the age of 4.

35 days….and I feel as vulnerable as a 35 days old human. There is a strange rebirth of me that has happened since she died. A new me that is washing in piece by piece with the tides of this new chapter.

This part of my life has started but I never got to have an intermission. There is a scene change that I never got to get dressed for. I’m a new character who didn’t get to see the script before it was show time. Yet, now is not the time to improvise. Now is the time to acknowledge that my own curtain call is coming. What happens between then & now is critically important if I’m to leave the world stage with a standing “O” rather than have rotten tomatoes thrown at my funeral.

I’m still covered in the dew of death. Naked in the wake of the reaper. As I watch him go all I hear are the words, “break a leg.”

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Grief And Poetry

Grief is one emotion that I’m finding doesn’t play fair with me.

As a childhood trauma survivor I learned so early how to anticipate what emotions I might feel as I was constantly being wounded. Being able to anticipate the emotions I was able to brace and steady myself before they hit me and so I could anchor myself for the myriad of storms.

I’m the kind of person (like many of you) who has mastered the art of a calm exterior while unspeakable things rage inside me that no one ever picks up on.

But, with grief…..and mourning it hits me before I can feel it coming. When this happens I feel instantly disoriented because I’m struggling to behave appropriate to my setting. I feel disappointed because I “should” have been prepared before the tears started falling. It makes me feel like I’m losing control of my general state of poise and that scares me because it makes me feel like I myself am closer to death.

This inability to perceive the approaching waves of grief feels like it underscores one of the painful features of mid-life and that is that we don’t live forever and we are half way over even if our legacy lives on.

There is an inherent weakness against the battery of grief emotions and that makes me feel easily surmountable and dangerously exposed to emotional elements I’ve been able to protect myself from since I was a child. It forces me to see that I am aging.

I am not my surest fortress for the first time and that scares the hell out of me.

My place of refuge these days has been the tender & patient presence of my friends and family. Their unrelenting patience & presence to me is deeply humbling. And even that forces me deeper into my shadow and causes me to review whether I have been as available and as present. It’s hard to admit dependence on another human for sustenance (here in American culture anyway). There is an element of shame that comes with it. And shame is something that can get you disenfranchised quick. When you’re already struggling to stay established it makes it all the more horrifying.

These emotions run deep & I have no choice but to be committed to the process of tending a wound that will never go away I think. It’s going to weep for a long, long time. And like all wounds it will be subject to infection should I sustain more losses in the near future. The energy it will take just to manage it so it doesn’t get worse is more than I have.

Because of this I find myself in succumb. I have no brute strength of will to stave off any more pain or difficulty.

I feel like a lone wounded animal on an open Sahara. At some point the pack or the herd will have to move on and I’ll have to hold on to the moments of gratitude for how long they stayed until their own survival needs moved them on from me.

Poetry I suppose will be my last stand.

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Culture Cocoon: Metamorphical Grief

I want to be in #turkiye, #india, or #dubai right now. Curled up in a hotel bed while the sounds of mosques and temples whirl around in the air outside my window as I write poetry. That’s all. That’s all I’m asking.

I am longing for the other side of the planet 🥺

Tomorrow will be 30 days since my mother passed and I still don’t feel like myself. I just want the space and the distance and the cradle of a new culture to comfort me as I immerse myself into an abysmal depth of poetry writing, shadow work, reflection, and introspection. The cocoon is of course an unfamiliar place to the caterpillar. It is foreign. And just as the caterpillar emerges from the alien place of cocoon so I want to melt inside some foreign landscape until my transformation is complete and I’m ready for a new journey with a new physicality. I want so desperately to go from crawling to flying.

Sadness is a universal language. It is understood with the eyes & felt with the heart. Whether the language is Turkce, Punjab, or Arabic a great deal of communication & connection can take place without ever speaking the first word when it comes to this common rite of passage of all humanity.

My mother….she is now….away. And, I want to be as well.

I want away….from here. I need….to be there. Not here. And, I suspect even this simple need is yet another mirror…..

Love, Cozett

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No Water For The Wolves

Lying in the silence. All is black around me save my phone and wifi light. And all I can think about is how my mother’s death is stirring in me an even greater fire and resolve to be living light. I want my light to shine into the cosmos and to be a home to every human without exception.

I want to be….wide, long, deep, tall, ever expanding light, warmth, and peace and safety.

I want my table to extend into the nations.

Where there is light people feel seen, where there is light there is clarity, there is life, there is strength, and hope.

In a world filled with humans who despise what they don’t get, fear what they can’t understand, and murder either with their thoughts or hands those who are divergent…..I want to be different.

Love is beautiful anarchy

Light is the epitome of rebellion against darkened understanding

Brilliant bright light so the world can see
Recklessly loving us all into anarchy

While the planet is threshed wheat from tare
I’ll gather and glean to me those in despair

It is enough for those standing accepted in the sun
To carry the status of a chosen one

I’ll cast my lot with the vagabond parade
I vomit at the charity of pretentious charade

Babylon, Babylon, can’t you see she’s imploding?
Or are your ears deafened from your own gloating?

Superiority, elitism, white washed graves
Their throats lie open like wilderness caves

But they won’t catch me or mine
Unbeknownst to them we are made of brine

And, I refuse to give them water…

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Cozett Contemplates: Your Write To Heal…

Cozett Contemplates writing to heal trauma…

For trauma survivors it’s hard to feel like you can ever again be fully safe. High-alert is a constant state of being. And, appearing relaxed and “normal” becomes a survival skill.

This has been one of my most honed life skills. I learned early on that to show disquiet…distress…or to speak out…would rock the boat. The fact is, is that when people become uncomfortable…things slow down as they try figure out:

1. What’s wrong with the person who’s upset?
2. How do I feel about what I’m hearing and seeing from this traumatized person?
3. Do I believe what I’m being told by this person?
4. How can I help in ways that won’t disrupt my own life?
5. Should I reach out to others to aid me if I help this person?
6. Are there problems too much for me and should I just keep moving and trust someone else will help?

These are just a few of the processes people sort through when thinking about how to help the traumatized.

As you can see not only are trauma survivors sorting through a lot of emotions and questions but so are those with whom we open to.

Because of all those processes and the time and energy it takes I decided as a child that I wouldn’t seek help. I couldn’t waste energy getting rejected over and over by people who didn’t have the capacity to hold space for me. I needed that energy to keep moving. Because life doesn’t stop. Even for the wounded.

As I’ve sojourned into middle-age and resolved to become more authentic, unapologetic, shameless, proactive, and courageous….I face the challenge that vulnerability brings.

Vulnerability, even for non-traumatized individuals is hard. But, as someone who has known what it is to be stripped bare of any ability to trust and feel safe it is especially…hard. I know I’m not alone with this?

This is the original reason I began to write to begin with. It was never because I thought I was good at it, or because it was a hobby for my free time. It was never because I had writing peers or was part of a book club or even a poetry lover! If you know my poetic soul that may seem surprising. 😆

I began to write because there weren’t enough tears. I couldn’t cry enough to even come close to releasing and processing all I’d been through and was going through.

I had so much pent up pain and agony that I needed the entirety of my being to release and cry as much as I did it just wasn’t cleansing me.

So I took to my keyboard. While hot tears streaked my face the fire of my words set ablaze my laptop and phone screens.

I held nothing back. There was no person who could hold space for me….so I created my own space. Private. Free from scrutiny. And it was as wide and as long and as endless as my pain.

My writing space could hold everything. And therefore it could hold me.

I want to encourage you today, if you’re a trauma survivor to know that even when humans can’t hold space for you…that there is a wide open and endless space available to you that can be curated by and for you.

Maybe you’re not looking to publish but you would like to heal? And you’d like to not do that alone?

I’m offering spaces for you. If you’d like to write to heal…alongside me….I’d be honored to hold, share and lead that space.

Reach out to me if this sounds like something your soul is calling for and together we will create the space for you to be held, seen, understood.

I love you. I really do.

Cozett Dunn

#cozettcontemplates #traumasurvivor #writingtherapy #lifecoach #author #healer #traumahealing #traumarecovery #traumainformed #mentalhealthmatters

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Sleep Trauma And Resolution: Shadow Work For The Shadowscape

Lack of sleep has been a growing crisis. Globally, since the 1970’s there has been a sharp decline in quality and duration of sleep. And, if you’re located in the U.S., the U.K., or Japan you are even less likely to be able to obtain more than 6 hours of sleep per night.

Sleep deprivation has been a factor in some of the planet’s greatest disasters. The nuclear disaster at Three Mile Island in 1979, the nuclear meltdown of Chernobyl in 1986, and the massive Exxon Valdez oil spill all had at the center of the incident…sleep deprived humans. (https://www.webmd.com/sleep-disorders/features/10-results-sleep-loss). So, why don’t we hear about that? There is a consensus amongst sleep scientists that citizens of capitalistic cultures are more prone to miss out on sleep due to the productivity demands of their jobs. Additionally, capitalistic cultures are known for “sleep machismo.” The old, “sleep when you’re dead” adage stems from this culture. Capitalism depends on 2 things: productivity and consumerism. When someone is sleeping…neither of those things are happening. And, so we find ourselves traumatized, and feeling guilty for this very necessary need. Now we even know that there are different sleep chronotypes and that we don’t get to choose whether we are a morning person or a night owl! So much has been discovered about the necessity, benefits, and genetic dispositions about sleep! But, it seems since most of us are sleep deprived and zombified we aren’t getting the education we need to experience better sleep. Our minds are numbed out and we are losing touch with the voice of our biological rhythms.

Because I had a childhood filled with frequent trauma, one way that my precious mamaw cared for me was by protecting my sleep. She knew if I was asleep I was healing from the stress and pain that constantly swirled around me. She knew if I was asleep, I was safe, and I was comfortable. However, all of this changed at the age of 18 for me. I graduated high school and moved to a larger city where I met my now, ex-husband. In retrospect I now understand that he was the morning person chronotype. But, for seventeen years I was railed at because I couldn’t get up early and hold an 8 am to 5 pm job. He constantly berated me and called me lazy even though I could wake up and work 12 pm to 12 am and essentially put in more hours than he did. Because I couldn’t wake when he did he felt I lacked ambition and motivation and wasn’t pulling my weight for our financial well-being. I want to note here that it was me, all on my own, who bought our first house, it was me who paid off his truck early, it was me who worked a full-time job, a side job, and did public speaking twice a week. All of this was simply because I couldn’t wake up early and he could.

I thought perhaps once I left him that I would finally be able to sleep without fear of being berated or criticized. But, after seventeen years a neural circuit had definitely formed. As I write this I’m struggling with the idea of going to bed (I left him 7 years ago and I’m still struggling with fear). I’ve been in therapy and doing neural integration for 5 years now and I’ve healed so much more than I ever thought I could. And now I’m finally to a place where I can focus on my sleep.

As my mind has pondered going to bed I’ve noticed a pattern with myself. I always feel this last minute “push” of sorts to work and not allow myself to get drowsy when it comes time for bed. So tonight I’ve decided to sit with the feeling rather and ask it questions rather than get up and go on a cleaning spree or “crank out” content. This is content I guess, but it’s also a journal entry, a therapeutic release that I hope will help me…go to bed and fall asleep.

As I’ve focused on this feeling of doing trying to push myself when it gets bedtime I’ve been able to hone in on the specific motivation behind the feeling and that is the motivation to feel…resolve. I need to feel I’ve resolved problems before I allow myself to get totally still. I find myself thinking, “there’s at least one more thing I need to do or think through before I call it a day.” Yet I lie in bed and try to solve problems until I at some incoherent point switch off. But, even then I feel like I’m too aware. Like I’m not totally asleep. I’m still somewhat alert.

My goal is to work on this need to be alert. This need to find resolve. Maybe this is what you need to?

All I know is that I’m not alone. I know that 6 hours or less is NOT enough for my body and mind. I am so ready to recondition myself. I am ready for a sleep revolution.

What about you?

Yours in the dreamscape,

Cozett

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Visions And Dreams Of Turtles And Elephants: The Importance Of Your Voice Being Found

I remember the first vision I had. I was 21 years old and was attending a conference out of town. When I got into my bed for the night I was met with a disembodied set of eyes looking into my own eyes and then down…into my soul. I jumped and could hardly believe what had just transpired. This happened two more times, sequentially. The second set of eyes in front of my eyes looked smoldering and powerfully seductive. Again, I jumped! They just appeared from out of no where. Then again a 3rd set appeared in front of me. These eyes looked like cartoon eyes. This time I sat in the silence. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me but I knew it wasn’t natural. It wasn’t normal. I finally was able to chill out from the experience enough to lay down and decided to go ahead and try to allow myself to fall asleep.

That was 23 years ago. Since then I’ve come to understand these are my visions. They are gifts to me. Given as tools of understanding. But, not just simple understanding. They’re very much like riddles. Exploring their meanings is truly a brain exercise for me that is helped along and aided by the supernatural realm. At first I wasn’t sure what to do with them and to be honest it’s only been in the last 4 or 5 years that I’ve really been diving deep and digging into them. What this process feels like for me? It feels like tiny but powerful nuggets of gold that are buried in the deepest part of the ocean and I am a woodpecker. I dive to the floor of the deep and peck into the sand until my beak feels the nuggets and then I begin to fish out what lies inside the gold. Ha! How’s that for a visual?? But, that’s what it feels like for me.

While I have a near endless list of visions and dreams and their interpretations I could share, I felt particularly called to write about my most recent visions of turtles and an elephant. I feel perhaps it could be like a timely message of sorts. We shall see.

About 3 weeks ago I began dreaming of turtles. Most of them were sea turtles, water turtles. I would wake up and the imagery of the turtles would linger in my mind. For instance, in one dream I was walking up a hill to what I would discover was a tall, muddy bank. Probably 15 or 20 ft high. It went straight down into a mud pit that had water in it. As I stood and looked into the water I could see dark images coming to the surface. The water was so muddy I truly couldn’t make out what it was that was actually surfacing until they broke the surface of the water. I was astounded and surprised to see in the seconds before the water was broken that it had been turtles I was watching and were coming up from the deep. After, I woke up, the words, “up from the deep” ran through my mind. Then immediately I went into a vision. In the vision there was a juvenile elephant with its back towards me. He was partially hidden in some trees. Then I heard the words, “hidden memories.” For a moment, I thought, “what do all of these scenes have to do with each other? Hidden memories??” Then one revelation came, “elephants are known for their memory capacity. It is said that, elephants never forget anything or anyone. Ever.” So the hiding elephant meant there are hidden memories and the turtles surfacing followed by the words, “up from the deep” tells me there are some internal things I need to both see (since they were “sea” turtles) and remember (since the notorious memorizer, the elephant was hiding from me.) See how that works? Just the process of interpretation alone….is fun. It is something I wish to lead others through because it is an amazing tool for shadow work! On that note, if you’d ever like to work with me doing this, please reach out! I would love to facilitate profound discoveries for your life and path.

Beyond the revelations, that I am certain will coincide with my practical research, there are some key takeaways that I wanted to present you from my studies about turtles. I think you will find these fast facts…deeply profound if you think through the implications of them.

  1. Turtles have existed for millions of years. They have studied…us…much longer than we have studied them. Therefore, in my mind, it’s not so much that humans are turtle experts (which those with the education or training certainly are) but more like turtles have a better read on us than we do on them because they’ve been here longer than you or me. Think about that. Some species of turtles can live upwards of 150 to 200 years. Animals are like sacred wisdom keepers of our earth, ocean, and air. They have their own technology, their own unique intuition, and sensing mechanisms. And, because they are animals and their senses are quite different than our own we as humanity, even the experts amongst us, have made the mistake to presume that the animals and their technologies, their sensing abilities aren’t as advanced as humans, in most cases. Did you know only in the past few years has it been discovered that turtles actually have “voices” and talk to each other? They talk to each other while they are even still in the egg…and they coordinate a simultaneous hatching for themselves because their natural born intuition tells them that there is strength in numbers and that they will be less vulnerable if they flee to the sea all at once, and together. In the egg they have this wisdom and ability to communicate and coordinate for their survival! Now, let’s talk about their voice….
  2. Turtles do indeed have voices. Thanks to the research of Dr. Peter Praschag and his center, Turtle Island in Austria, (https://turtle-island.at/en/about) the world, other scientists now have evidence of turtle communication. He has been able to decipher several meaningful conversations the turtles have with each other, for example, females will call to each other when its time to go ashore and lay eggs, turtles will call each other to dive deeper if there is a more abundant food source or if a storm is coming, males will communicate to each other & with females when they want to mate. So, how did we not know this until now? #1- Their communication isn’t audible to the human ear. They communicate in clicks and frequencies that have to be modified with special equipment in order to be heard by the human ear. As diligent as researchers and scientists around the world have been they long believed that these reptiles were both mute and deaf.
  3. Until we knew they had a voice…we were dooming them to failure, unknowingly. In the wild when baby turtles hatch they have their mother leading them into the ocean. They observe how she does it but more importantly…she communicates to them what they need to know for a successful and safe launch. Per Dr. Praschag, there were turtle conservation efforts for up to 40 years in Malaysia, where the eggs were separated from their mother & released into the ocean by conservation teams. And, the survival rate of these releases were consistently and devastatingly low and after 40 years did nothing to help the populations recover. You can see and hear about this here (around the 10 minute mark a bit before and at least 17 seconds after.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_4l950Tmis
  4. Because we didn’t know they had a voice we were contributing to their decimation. “Ignorance is the mother of destruction.” Is it not? Sit with this.

Now, this is just a snippet of all that I’ve taken away from these rich visions and dreams. I hope to share more later. But, here I wish to convey the facts you’ve read above into some bulleted food for thought for you….and myself.

  1. Mother wounds- what happens/what has happened to us when our mother’s voice was absent, misguided, manipulative? Just like the hatchlings…we lose our way and our launch isn’t as successful as it could have been.
  2. Lives on mute- simply because others do not believe us to even have a voice. Experts nonetheless! Authority figures. If they say it must be true, right?? Now, did the turtles EVER stop using their own unique voice because of the experts? No, they didn’t. But, because they weren’t being heard without intervention, the experts themselves lent to the crisis of their extinction. It is because of this, I think many of us, need to partner with others who have the medium, the technology, the platform, that it takes to ENSURE we are heard. We need each other. Because of one man’s compassionate heart and curious mind about his beloved turtles he has singlehandedly changed the game of biological research and not only has he GIVEN the turtles the platform for their voices to be confirmed as a factual existence, he can now turn around the extinction crisis. The salvation of these populations has come because their voices have been found, confirmed, validated. Think about that and what it means for you and maybe the voiceless populations you serve or the underdog family members, and friends you love and wish the whole world could hear them, their story, their voice and thereby preserve the deep treasures that lie….ONLY within them. Treasure that can only be catalyzed by being given a platform or medium through which they can work to raise and elevate their voice. To tell their story. My story. Your story. And thereby save the dying things in us and about us.

I want you to think on these two things my friends for they are profound and powerful and I truly believe are messages for such a time as this.

I would love to hear what you think about this and how it applies to you. I would love for you to share this far and wide if it resonates with you, encourages you, or someone you may know.

We are all in this together. And, if you have a voice, a platform or a medium through which you can elevate the “unheard” I encourage you to call in those voices, quiet as they are. Remember turtle voices are clicks and frequencies. Just because we don’t speak each other’s languages doesn’t mean it has to be a barrier that leads to the extinction of voices that may very well save not only themselves, but their listeners too. Be intentional about going after speakers who are not famous, who are not stage savvy and elevate their voice until the whole world can share in the medicine within them and thereby enrich this beautiful living planet.

More later.

Cozett Dunn

The Catalyst

The Poet

The turtle

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The Energy Of Obligation: First Vacation In 11 years

I just got home from Perdido Key, FL in the US. It was only 4 nights but it’s the first real vacation I’ve had since 2012.

I am…home. But. I experience myself as a citizen of Earth. So, I am here….but will always be….there….and there…and over there as well….

Being in my apartment in Hixson…isn’t my dwelling time. It is a pause to rest then plot my next course. Which could be Thailand, India, Europe, Florida…who knows. All I know….is my soul is nomadic.

My sweet little mamaw told me the other day, “I’m so surprised. Shocked really. You never grew up traveling. We never did any traveling. It seems odd. But, I’m happy for you. I just want you to be safe. You’re braver than I am. Just be careful.”

There are few things in my life that…facilitate….me being able to fully feel any experience other than suffering.

One of those things is travel. It’s the only time I am fully happy. And, because this trip was the first vacation I’ve had since 2012 that I haven’t had to work and respond to calls, emails, texts, and more, I was able to finally release my phone without giving into fear of “letting someone down because I’m not immediately available to them.”

I’ve lived an on-call lifestyle 7 days per week since 2012. Sit with that. It’s emotionally devastating.

The energy of obligation even if you’re not fielding a bunch of calls….still depletes your energy stores, your joy isn’t full, your happiness is laced with dread, and some of my trips were absolutely ruined by customers or clients who chewed me out during vacation.

Sit with that. That’s freakin hard. A single woman who doesn’t have a college education. Who has multiple health issues that won’t allow for a 40 hour per week clock job without getting fired due to chronic conditions. Yet, not sick enough to qualify for any assistance.

The entirety of my life before 44 years old has been quite unkind.

I deserve the next 44 (plus) to make up for every tear I’ve cried, for every panic attack I’ve spiraled out of control, for every ER visit, for every expensive therapy session (that I really couldn’t afford).

I deserve the rest of my time here to make up for every man who has cheated on me, lied to me, compared me to other women, talked down to me, bet against me, body shamed me, mentally and verbally abused me, and abandoned me.

We are more than a social media feed. There are definitive reasons behind the decisions people like me make that do not make sense to, or offend others.

And, for those shortsighted or selfish enough to not think through the possible reasons I am (or you are) not meeting their needs…then maybe they deserve the discomfort of the decision I (or you) made. Maybe my lack of presence (or yours) will be the catalyst they need….to awaken. To understand that just because they are a: client, customer, family member, friend, etc. That their role in your life, whether it be personal or professionally based….does not preclude you from being autonomous….WITHOUT REPERCUSSION.

Because, let’s face it. When someone “punishes” you or myself by taking away their business, or freezing you out of the family or a friendship….that is in a nutshell….manipulation. An intentional willingness that gets off on causing those with less leverage in this life….to suffer.

More on this some other time. But, I’ve said all of that to say this…personal power is a right. And just because you enjoying your autonomy makes someone uncomfortable or feel some kind of way…is no sign that you have to betray yourself in an effort to keep them approving of you.

So much more is coming. Stay tuned.

Cozett Contemplates

#cozettcontemplates #thecatalystpodcast #autonomy #personalpower #relationshiprevolution #travel #travelblogger #traveltheroad #thejourney #lifepath #perdidokey #perdidokeyflorida #pensacola #sunset

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