Are You Refusing to Admit that Something’s Dead in Your Life?

The dirt path led me to the Women of the Woods.

I was in Chile on a health retreat that included shamanic sessions. All I knew about the women was that one used a bayonet instead of a knife. I didn’t know why weapons were needed in a shamanic treatment, but was about to find out.

The Women of the Woods, Helaine and Antonella, one dark, one fair, were both in their late 20s, charming and friendly.

I sat down and chatted about what was on my mind. After the ritual cleansing by Palo Santo, an invocation to the spirits of the six directions, the shamans cut the invisible energy cords that bound me with bayonet and knife. Or so I was told. Then, with much rattling and more Palo Santo, Antonella went on a shamanic journey.

She saw a jaguar carrying her dead cub in her jaws.

The Jaguar, Otorongo, is the totem animal of the west, the place of sunsets, death and rebirth. “Is there anything dead in your life that you’re refusing to let go of?” she asked. I shook my head. I couldn’t think of anything.

It was a total waste of time.

Later that night I burst out laughing at my stubbornness. I had lied to her and to myself without knowing it. My business was dead and I was refusing to admit it. It wasn’t literally dead, and while ailing could be turned around, 100%. But it was dead to me at the soul level. I was burnt out, in poor health, exhausted. My money management business, after 2+ decades, had stopped being a font of creative energy and was draining the life force from me.

That epiphany was at the same time tragic and hilarious.

It still took me a few months to accept the death of my precious cub, and then a few more to grieve, and even more months before I could take action and give my business a proper burial. I vacillated between trying to resuscitate it, and admitting that I could no longer feed it with my life essence.

When I finally cut the tie, I could breathe again.

We are slow to let go. We are too patient with the discomfort we are currently living in. We are too willing to lie to ourselves. It makes sense: To take action would disrupt our lives — disappoint people, shred our identities, introduce the unknown. We would rather be miserable than risk the unknown even if it brings joy and delight.

Take it from me, three years later. Take the bayonet, cut the invisible bonds to the dead truths that drain you. Life will start to trickle back into you, and you will rediscover joy.

In memory of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Humphreys, gift of their daughter Helen