A mythic approach to purpose work

For years I felt inadequate when it came to actualizing my soul purpose. I knew what I was yearning and called to do, but when it came to making steps towards it, I kinda collapsed.

I was surrounded by people, including my partner at the time, who had it all worked out. Who were able not just to name what their purpose was, but to build a business based on it. I often felt insufficient around them. I was suggested several ideas by well-meaning friends, as to how I could take next steps, was connected to people who might be able to inspire and support me, ... and no. I stayed stuck. I was not able to go ahead. It was a horrible feeling. This is not my way, was all I could say.

My way? What was it, then? I did not know much back then. What I did know was this: that every time I closed my eyes and connected to my purpose I saw green. Green moss, forests and hills. I felt a shiver in my body, and heard a distant voice, whispering words in the language of the soul. It sang of the life-death-life circle - but mainly about the death part of it, it sang poems of ancient myth and the holy womb, of Artemis and Baba Yaga…only then I didn’t know Her names.It told me to become one with the soil of the forest, to lay down into her and to decompose.

Now what was I supposed to to with THAT? How was I supposed to package THAT into an offering, to *finally* earn money with my purpose?

And that’s where I got stuck.

a) I did not fully trust the trueness of my call.

b) I pressured myself to focus on the outcome.

c) I was afraid to die. For once simply because I knew this was part of my initiation and I sensed that death would be my companion for many years, and secondly because I was afraid to get strangled once again for speaking out my truth as medicine woman (disclaimer: I own that I was just as much the abuser and killer in previous lives as I was the hunted, AND I have clear memories of ways I was killed for speaking my truth).

So I stayed in this in-between state. And it almost killed me. Or rather my soul.

Until I allowed myself to believe what I had felt. I started going into the forest and making myself a bed on the soil, where I lay for hours on end. Brown bear, raven and slug became my allies (again). I went to Scotland for a week of nature, ritual and soul. I started relaxing into the idea that my purpose was working me, that my role was to dream my next steps into waking, not pursue them with a bow and arrow. Well, AND I received an arrow which did support my underdeveloped masculine to become alive, and boy he was alive. Granite and volcano and desire.

I gave myself rest and forest walks and started honoring my blood. I gave birth to my child and met Kali while my body was torn open.

And even though I am still not where I long to be with manifesting my purpose, I feel content. And I know that myth and nature are necessities for supporting my path, not just fancy add-ons.

Now, I respect and appreciate the very goal oriented, straight forward approach to purpose work. There are lots of exercises and programs out there that are incredibly effective. And they have, in part, supported me on my journey.

But there is also a different approach to purpose. The one of dreaming your soul into manifestation. The one of listening to stories of myth and archetypes around the campfire. Of allowing yourself to be initiated out there by silver moon or singing river. Of inviting death as your companion.

Let us remember this, too.