I’ve been reflecting on disillusionment — how it comes uninvited, and yet always with purpose.
It strips away illusion, certainty, control.
It can feel like death.
I’m seeing it as a crucial initiation in the transformational spiral.
As the old order adopts ever more contorted postures to distract from its demise, we are in a global state of disillusionment.
The same old order is collapsing within each one of us and disillusionment can be one of the most painful human experiences.
This is a poem that came through as I sat in this space.
It’s tender, a little raw. An attempt to find words for my experience, to honour the pain of the transformational process and the courage it takes, and to bring our human vulnerability into the light.
I offer it in case you too are in the falling… and wondering if you’ll remember how to fly.
💔 The Pain and Grace of Disillusionment
The heart is cracked open
and all the bonds that have held you are fraying
like old ropes left too long in the sun and tides,
weathered and decaying.
The ground you’ve stood upon
has fallen
and you’ve become a slack puppet
hanging now above the aching void
abandoned when the puppeteer left the stage.
The web you spun so carefully
to hold, connect, contain you
is ripped like a bridal veil
and this sudden exposure to limitless space
is daunting.
The ego mind kicks in to do its job
creating a cacophony of blame and shame
while the emotions clamour
and cling hopelessly to the scattering debris
as it melts
and falls away.
This is a death
and I have no comforting song to sing to you.
You are not ready for deliverance
even though your gilded cage
has lost its lustre
and the door is open.
Your trust is not grown big enough
for this new adventure.
And yet you have no other choice
but to fledge
and fall
and hope you can remember
how to fly
and how the current will rise up to meet you.
