This Too Shall Pass, Hope

Dutch Galleons on a Stormy Sea by an artist of the Dutch School, early 17th century

What does it mean to try and understand that we will come through the other side of the trials we face? In a world seemingly gone mad, how do we find our ballast? What about when we are in the throes of nihilism or depression, that place of hopelessness from which there feels no return? Natural Dreamwork offers a way.

In my own work, I have suffered from a trauma-born pain/anger/nihilism cycle. When I am activated into a profound sense of trauma related pain/anger and I do or say things in reaction to that place that are not who I want to be, the outer edge of that storm is a backlash of shame and hopelessness. The story that the ear whisperers tell me is that “this is how it is”, “it will never get any better”, “there is something wrong with you”, “there were never any problems until you came along”, “you brought this on yourself and you deserve what you get” and various other versions of self-recrimination.

I have done a lot of work around this issue and today, during a dreamwork class on intergenerational trauma, led by one of my Natural Dreamwork colleagues, I thought about this cycle. I was not in the trauma reactive place, but in the place of remembering dream images which reflect that place and remembering what it’s like to feel that way: alone, isolated, hopeless, anxious, anguished. And remembering what it’s like to feel hope.

After the class, my body was vibrating with the memories and a old dream came into my field of awareness.

Dream:

I am led to the cliff by an old woman. Before us lies the vastness of the open ocean. I see a galleon-style ship way out to sea sailing along in the open waters under the bright sun. Ahead of it I see a terrible storm, a darkness with huge waves, rain and winds. The ship is headed straight towards it. I feel anxiety and curiosity, what will happen? The old woman next to me points and I see that beyond the storm are clear skies again, calm seas and bright sun. I see some sea birds wheeling in the sky. I feel hope and joy.

There are so many facets to this simple dream for me.

From my point of view on the cliff, I am safe, just watching. The being who I am with, a teacher perhaps the wise old woman, showing me something, gesturing towards the tableau: See! From this point of view, I can see both the smooth sailing, the coming storm and the smooth sailing on the other side. So an important layer of the dream’s message has to do with the idea of “this too shall pass”, which if you are in a depressive cycle can be very hard to know or believe. Standing on the cliff, I can see the truth. Can I remember it when I am on the Galleon?

The dream also shows a reference to the past, as this ship is a galleon and not a modern sailing vessel. So perhaps we can understand the nature of trauma and how the past events bleed into the present experience.

What is a galleon? From Wikipedia:

“Galleons were large, multi-decked sailing ships developed in Spain and Portugal and first used as armed cargo carriers by Europeans from the 16th to 18th centuries during the Age of Sail and were the principal vessels drafted for use as warships until the Anglo-Dutch Wars of the mid-17th century.”

Ships designed for armament, cargo and speed in rough weather remind me of my own armament, capacity to carry and speediness. They feel like hard ships upon which hard men toiled, fighting their way as quickly as possible across vast oceans, while protecting their cargo. I can feel that old fortress that once was so strong in me, the stalwart hull, the braced sails, the warning flag flapping in the wind on the tall mast, the crows nest up high scanning the horizon for trouble, the precious cargo of my own pain, vulnerability, longing held deep within the ribs of my fighting vessel.

The dream also references the forces of nature which are beyond our control. I can feel myself on that ship. The anticipation of the coming storm, the unpredictability of a storm, the ways in which I am tossed, my desperate attempts to tie down everything, to furl the sails and hide below deck or perhaps to lash myself to the mast and scream out at the god Neptune, uncaring of my fate, not knowing where I will end up. In this way perhaps there is even an excitement or sense of surrender that feels good and is needed in that moment.

These patterns are part of me, the galleon has offered protection and safety, though today I have the awareness to feel the steadiness of her deep draw, how I know most of the nooks and crannies of her, I can unfurl the sails or trim them and I can feel the support of all who sail with me and my precious cargo will travel and be shared more freely, with less of a fight. For She has been made to travel through the vastness when times are hard and when the sailing is smooth.

But mostly, for me, the dream is about faith. Faith that we can come through the storm, that there will be bright, sunny days and smooth sailing once again. Perhaps the sea birds harken to an imminent cry of “land ho!” That first glimpse of land after a long journey at sea, joy.

All the work I have done, allows me to see even more deeply into this dream as it comes up into my memory today. When I stand with the image of the dream allowing all it has to offer, I can grow, heal, make different choices, and experience the sensuality of the full depth and range of my feelings. I can begin to recognize a certain anxiety at the approaching storm and when I am in the dark storm, I can have faith that I will not be in there forever.

Perhaps this image carries something for the collective as well. When we feel the darkness of what we see in the world, perhaps we remember that this too shall pass, we will feel the sun once again warm our faces. We may need to work hard aboard our vessels, we may need to fight. And we must in these moments too, have faith.

 And what is Faith if not Hope. Hope shines the bright light that is needed to help dispel the darkness of any type of depressive/nihilistic state. The dream offers an image to help me know what hope can feel like in the body. My work is to remember this image/feeling whenever I find myself lost in the storm.

Hark, now hear the sailors cry,
Smell the sea, and feel the sky,
Let your soul & spirit fly, into the mystic.

~ Van Morrison, Into the Mystic

Previously published in In Search of Puella