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lazyyogi · 22 days

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Spring Renewal: Healing from Time

Feeling lethargic, unfocused, or apathetic despite the onset of Spring? You may benefit from the practice of Renewal.

In this post:

What is the purpose of renewal and why do we need it? -> How burdens accumulate through the passage of time -> Timeless = freshness

Technical elements of renewal practices: -> Recapitulation -> Defragmentation -> Trauma shard release -> Reclamation of loaned energies

When we rinse away the dust of wear & tear and shed the accumulated burdens of time, we experience renewal. We regain a feeling of the timeless brightness that was once so natural to us.

Time exists for us as memory of past and imagination of the future, but also in the way we interpret the present according to those memories and imaginations.

Time exists in this moment as the imprints we have absorbed in the form of judgments and beliefs as well as the ways in which our repeated experiences have dulled our senses.

Think of an older adult. How they are as living beings is mainly shaped by the ways in which they have accumulated time: the weight of lifestyle choices on the physical body, the definitions and perceptions fixed into the mind, and the various forms of conditioning programmed by life experiences.

A common reason for low levels of energy and enthusiasm in adults is due to the accumulation of time, which leads to a state of staleness.

Now think of an infant, a creature who embodies the very essence of newness: unburdened by imprints or conditioning, undistracted by thoughts of past or future, undefended in their naked experience of consciousness in the moment.

An infant radiates freshness.

Habituation and conditioning are the marks left in the subtle (energy) body by the passage of time. Some of that is useful and part of what makes us more functional than an infant. But much if not most of this is accumulated garbage.

Just as a diamond coated in dust still possesses its inherent luster and clarity, so too do we still possess that freshness of infancy. Such is the esoteric meaning of "innocence." It can be obscured but it can never be lost.

When we engage in renewing practices, we first recognize and then rejoice in our fundamental essence. It has not gone anywhere, nor will it ever. It is us. Only, it can be forgotten and therefore go unknown and unseen. So, we dust off the diamond.

There are many ways to discuss the elements of self-renewal. In this post, I will address four of them.

The first is recapitulation.

"You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them." ~ Maya Angelou

"They believed that by means of the recapitulation, however, they could acquire a degree of control that could permit them to separate their life experiences from their life force." ~ Carlos Castaneda

The events of our lives, and the way we experience them, invariably impact us deeply. Sometimes it's a good thing, leading to self-discovery and inspiration. Yet at times it can be traumatic, confusing, and weakening. Especially when we unquestionably believe that we are those experiences.

When this happens, our enthusiasm and brightness (in other words our energy) becomes drained and muted. Through recapitulation, there is a therapeutic and cathartic disentanglement of our living reality from our past history. We can still reference our memory of the past for practical purposes but we are no longer reduced or limited by our past experiences.

The next two elements are defragmentation and trauma shard release.

Like a computer, we don't always develop in an orderly and optimized fashion. It's not surprising when you consider the disjointed and fast paced unfolding of experiences from the moment we wake up to when we go to sleep. Unfinished thoughts, half-baked daydreams, subconscious micro-emotions, and more all swirling just out of sight of our conscious attention. In a sense, we play host to fragments in many forms within us.

Related to this is the piercing placement of traumatic shards within our minds and bodies. A trauma is an experience that overwhelms and bypasses our capacity for healthy processing. In an acute form, when its fresh, it can cause us persistent distress in several ways and we will consciously suffer. In a chronic form, it can be more subtle in the form of triggers, crippling fears, avoidance and dependance behaviors, and more. These tend to be semi-conscious due to the way the trauma has integrated into your sense of self or identity. Any suggestion of being free from that trauma can feel like an affront on your identity, your self.

Instead of dealing with the discomfort of the healing process, many will instead resign themselves to coping mechanisms designed to prevent the re-activation of their traumatic wounds.

The burden of fragments and traumatic shards are just a few examples of how we carry time inside of us.

Lastly is the reclamation of loaned energies.

Through our prayers, intentions, and karmas, we have become involved with the paths and energies of other beings--be they people, animals, or other forms of sentience. This may be positive or negative, such as beings you have supported emotionally or beings with whom you have engaged previously in repeated conflicts. Those connections can persist on subconscious levels, influencing and siphoning our energies.

Through the practice of self-renewal, we can call all of those energies back to us and sever the obsolete connections that remain. This leaves us fresh and capable of forming new connections while moving forward from a place more whole and wise.

For a practice to reach down deep enough to be more than just a momentary relaxation or distraction, it must touch our fundamental nature: primordial awareness. This is the stainless diamond beneath the dust of time.

It is from that stainless place of beingness within us all that we can find both the perspective and the power necessary to free ourselves from the accumulated burdens of time.

Next up will be a sequel post about combining these elements to find a renewal practice that works for you.

#renewal #spirituality #yoga #buddhism #consciousness #awareness #philosophy #zen #mindfulness #meditation #inspiration

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witchybitchy222 · 3 months

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Azriel x Reader | Renewal Chapter 6

Azriel x female reader

Alright here's where things really stray from cannon (like its not already a fanfic lmao) but I'm really happy with how this turned out. Hope y'all like it!!

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It was sunny the day your mother died. Looking back, you always thought that was odd. Something so evil should've been done under the veil of rain. It should’ve happened at midnight, when the shadows were thickest and the darkest of beings emerged from their slumber. Real life wasn’t like that though. Pain and evil were always there, and even the shadows couldn’t hide an evil this great.

Maybe that’s why the darkness and shadows always felt welcoming to you. If something so awful, so life-changing could happen during the brightest of day, nothing that bad could happen in the shadows.

You were in the sitting room when they came. Your mom was cleaning up dinner, fresh fish with rice and vegetables from the backyard garden. She was going to take you flying before it got dark. You were still unused to the cold air of the mountains. The icy nip of the wind against your wings was unfamiliar despite your Illyrian heritage. Mother had insisted you not come to the mountains until you were old enough to defend yourself. She knew firsthand the cruel way females were treated in the war camps, and even though she wanted you to know your heritage and your people, your safety was her top priority.

You knew your brother had spent a lot of time here, against your mother’s wishes. Father wanted him to be strong, resilient, hardened to the sight of blood and violence and fear. Rhys was the heir, he needed to be trained and shown how the world worked, his whole childhood was a brutal training for the title he would one day hold.

You, on the other hand, were extremely sheltered. Something snapped in the High Lord when he had a daughter. He wasn’t a particularly caring man, but seeing his daughter, winged and small, so similar to his mate, had changed something in him. He thought of himself as a protector. He’d saved his mate from ridicule and mauling by her Illyrian family, and now he could save you. He forbade you from meeting anyone but your family and you certainly weren’t allowed around Illyrians, save your mother and brother. You never met your brother’s friends, “the bastards” as father called them, but Rhys would sneak into your room late at night and tell you stories.

That’s why you were so shocked then, seeing who could only be the Spring lord and his sons, making their way up the pathway to your mother’s home.

“Mama!” you called from the window, “Visitors are coming!” Your mother walked up behind you to look out the glass, wings pulled in tight as she dried her hands on a dish towel.

Her brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of the spring males. You’d heard Rhys speak of the younger son, Tamlin. You thought he must be a friend. Maybe the males thought your brother was with you?

Your mother shooed you from the window and you went and stood by the fire, dreading the blast of cold air that would permeate the cottage when the door was opened.

“My Lord,” your mother began, opening the door just wide enough that she could see the three males approach. “ We weren’t expecting you this evening. I’m afraid my husband and son are at our home in the city. It’s just my daughter and I here.”

“Good,” you heard a male voice say, as he pushed his way past your mother and into the home.

Your mother stumbled back, grabbing your arms and placing you behind her, wings flaring wide to shield you from view. Something in the air had shifted, the cozy warmth of the cottage now feeling stifling, confining.

The male, the High Lord you assumed, sat down on the couch, spreading his legs and grinning like he owned the place. His sons stood stoically behind him, flanking him like guards.

“Now let’s not make this harder than it needs to be,” He began, motioning your mother towards the chairs by the fire. She stiffened, her grip on your arm tightening.

The High Lord let out a sigh, as if this whole interaction annoyed him, and with a wave of his hand, wind picked up, pushing your mother to her knees. You saw her grit her teeth, unable to move against the winds that bound her.

The male gave you a dark smile, “Now there’s the pretty little daughter, Y/N, isn’t it?” Your eyes flickered to the males behind him, the two on the right almost identical to their father, the same muddy blonde hair and light eyes, eyes filled with anticipation. Tamlin, though, looked almost uneasy. He was trying hard to mask it, but you could feel the grayish blue of it flicker in your senses, seeping from his mental shield.

“Have a seat, girl, before I make you.” He snapped, clearly losing patience with the situation, the hate in his expression shining through.

The older male’s eyes bore into you as you slowly lowered yourself into the chair closest to your mother. Something was wrong here, very wrong.

“You’re likely wondering why we’re here.” The High Lord began, drawing a dagger from his belt and staring into the gleaming reflection, the light of the fire glinted off it in the late afternoon sun.

“You see, your mate,” he pointed the knife at mother, “and your father,” he pointed the knife at you, “owe me a debt.” He smiled as you felt the color drain from your face. The human slaves… father had set them free, and now you and your mother were to pay the price.

“Now the only choice left for me to make, is whether to kill you or your mother first.” He looked hungrily at your mother’s wings, an Illyrian female with perfectly intact wings was rare. Your stomach churned as you wondered what he’d do with them, and you were suddenly glad yours were no longer visible, magicked away for now.

“Wait…” a choked sound came from your mother as she fought against her bonds to speak, “a deal…” Your eyes widened, head swinging toward your mother, she couldn’t possibly mean to negotiate with this horrible male.

“Interesting….” the High Lord began, “what did you have in mind?” He lifted his magic and your mother gasped in air, shakily moving to her feet beside you.

“Kill me.”

You choked out a cry, “Mama, no…”

She laid a comforting hand on your shoulder, a warning not to interfere. “Kill me, torture me, do what you will with my body, allow me to pay the debt for my mate’s mistakes, but let my daughter go free. Banish her, send her to another court, but leave her be.” your mother cast her eyes downward, clearly hating how she had to lower herself before this male.”Please.”

The blonde male’s head twitched to the side in consideration,

“You’ll comply with whatever we ask of you?”

“As long as I don't hurt anyone else, and my daughter goes free.”

You swallowed down your tears, now was not the time for emotion, the room was filled with a tense energy, like one subtle move could shatter it and everything would erupt into chaos.

“You have a deal.” The High Lord smiled, his eyes gleaming with delight as you watched a bargain mark spread across your mother’s arm. A rose, something so beautiful, for a deal so evil.

“No!” you shouted, standing from your seat and wrapping your arms around her.

“Bring in the witch.” One of the older sons left out the door, slamming it behind him.

“Shhh,” your mother ran her hands down your hair in soothing motions, “You’re safe, you’ll be okay.”

“But Mama,”

“No.” She said sternly, drawing back to look into your eyes, her hands planted firmly on your cheeks. “There will be time for grief later, but now you must be strong.” She placed a kiss on your head and turned as the door opened again.

The spring male came in, pulling along a female who must’ve been the witch. She was short, with white-gray hair cut close to her head, her brown skin wrinkled from years of life and sun. She looked at you with pity in her eyes. You felt the regret coming off her, stark blue, and crisp like the sea, she was dragged into this, same as you.

“We originally brought her to heal you.” He looked at you, still wrapped in your mother’s embrace, “So we could break you again, of course. According to our source you aren’t due back for another two days, so we have plenty of time to have fun.” Your blood ran cold. They would torture your mother for days.

You looked again at the witch, she took a deep breath, eyes closed in pain. Fae often propositioned witches to do their dirty work, the fae healers took an oath to the realm, rendering them useless in morally dark situations such as this. That didn’t mean the witches enjoyed it though, they’d been prosecuted their entire existence, this was just another way for those more powerful than them to exploit their abilities.

“How far away can you send her?” The High Lord asked, lazily flipping his dagger from where he sat, still comfortably sprawled on your mother’s couch. The witch didn’t answer. She only held your gaze, dark eyes blazing with determination.

The High Lord gave a sigh, and quick as lightning, the younger male’s hand shot out, connecting brutally with the witch’s face.

She fell to her knees, blood dripping from her shattered nose, you felt her pain hit you, red and throbbing, and you closed your eyes tightly against it.

Finally, the Spring Lord rose from his seat, boots stopping just in front of the puddle of blood rushing from the witch’s bruised face.

“You and I both know, I can make this harder than it needs to be. Just do what I ask, and you’ll be free to go.” He looked down on her like he was scolding a child, impatient and stern.

The witch lifted her head, her eyes once again connecting with yours, the blue stream of pity overwhelming the pain that still lingered. “I can send her as far as another realm.” She spoke quietly, resigned to both of your fates.

“Perfect.” The High Lord grinned, turning to look at you.

“No!” you screamed clinging to your mother. One of the sons came forward, prying you from her warm embrace. Her tears were flowing freely now, but her face was calm, yielding to the fate that played out before her. She may have accepted what was coming, but you could not. You bucked in the male’s arms, bashing your head into his nose and stomping down on his foot. You ran towards the door but were caught around the middle by the unyielding arms of the High Lord. He threw you to the ground, the bones in your arm cracking upon impact. You yelled, crawling across the floor toward your mother. She was restrained again, face in agony as her body was contorted back, using all her strength to mouth the words “I love you.”

The witch’s bloodied face appeared above yours, “I’m so sorry.” she whispered, and everything went black.

It was dark now. Late into the night, the shadows crept into the library as you stared into the empty hearth and showed your brother everything.

Your brother. It was so odd to see him again, after all these years. He looked so similar to you, to your mother. Same dark hair, same violet eyes, same tremble to his jaw as he tried to hold back his tears. You had warned him when he asked to see your memories of that day how painful it would be, but nothing could’ve prepared him to see that, or you to relive the worst day of your existence.

Rhys let out a choked sob, hand coming to his mouth as tears flowed down his face. “I am so, so sorry, Y/N.”

You shook your head as your own tears began anew, “No, Rhys, No. None of this is your fault, neither of us could’ve prevented what happened that day.”

Your brother looked at you, sadness and pain radiating off him in waves of gray, mixing with your own tumultuous emotions. “I, I should’ve known what had happened, I should’ve looked harder for you, not just assumed you were dead,” He stood, knocking over the chair in anger, “I should’ve recognized my own damn sister when she showed up in my court.” He sent a blast of power at the chair, reducing it to shards of wood and fabric in an instant.

“Stop.” you stood, walking to him, your hands going up to cup his tear stained face. He looked so different from the composed High Lord you’d seen earlier that day. He was rumpled, disheveled in a way that seemed so at odds with who he was. His hair stuck up at odd angles from pulling it in distress.

“I was sent to another realm, glamoured for centuries by a powerful witch, I didn’t even know who I was.” Rhys closed his eyes, resting his head on your shoulder.

“It just seems so obvious now that it was you all along.”

You stroked his hair, comforting him the way mother used to, “It’s okay, you’re the reason I’m back to myself. And now I’m here and I’m not going to leave again.”

@strawbwebbie @judig92 @bankerfrog @meritxellao @amdiriel @kristalhi @everyonehatescarmen @reareaikea @nothxney @toothhurtyam @goldentournesol @poetryinshadows

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #witchybitchy222 #mine #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar x reader #renewal

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