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I have always been afraid to die.

Since a very young age, death has always been a presence lingering around me. Almost to remind me that, soon or later, she would be taking me elsewhere.

It was only recently though that I saw how this was actually affecting how I’d interact not only with myself, but with the rest of the world. That often meant letting others believe that they knew more than me, hoping this would just keep me away from trouble or becoming too big for my own good (funny the twisted games our little Human likes playing).

I got very excited when I met other Shaumbra last year. Although it was only an “online” reunion, it felt to me as if I had met very old friends. No need for words or being anyone other than myself.

At least, this is how I felt.

While the whole world seemed to grow crazier, I felt safe to open up in the Facebook forum.

For a while it almost looked like I was the “prodigal son,” back to his family with many stories to share. Truth is, for a long time I had lost the pleasure to do that on social media. I felt no one cared about what I had to say for they all seemed too busy enjoying being right while making everybody else wrong. So, there I was, telling the other Masters all about my “ahahs & oops” on my way to realization and truly enjoying the exchange of wisdom and often, humor. For a while I felt very good, and that sense of impending death became just a distant echo.

Soon, the more I shared, the more I realized how “alone” I was actually feeling. And the more I carried on sharing. “Aloneness” is well different than being lonely. I always prided myself for being able to “walk on my own.” I never felt the need to go out of my way to make friends or be part of a group, but during this pandemic something changed within me.

I saw the division among people growing wider and wider, and suddenly I felt there was no place for me left in the world. While everybody was busy arguing about just everything and happily raising their voices to be heard, I recoiled in sadness and hopelessness. I stopped sharing my writing on social media, while just growing immensely “alone” inside.

It was then that I started to feel myself in a prison. Every day its walls became thicker and every day my despair felt deeper and darker. I realized I had been in this prison a very, very long time. Lifetime after lifetime I would be thrown in there, all alone and forgotten by everybody else. It had been me and me alone for so long, I was desperate to meet again the ones I had left behind.

I still had so much to give; would anyone be interested? Would anyone just accept my gifts and remember me, so it would not all have been for nothing? I found myself crying the tears I must have cried time and time again when I felt that I had been robbed of my power and silenced by a world too loud and shallow.

I then saw an old woman confined into this small cell with me, crushed under the weight of her pain. Unable to move, her laments had turned into a bewitching chant. Over and over, she would sing of an ancient land whose inhabitants had forgotten all that they were, and started to worship the “One who never forgives and wishes to keep you small.”

“Stay with me, child,” she sang. “Here you are safe, away from the Gods that take your power, for they fear your grandness. Stay little one, so no one will ever hurt you again.” Life after life, the old lady’s song had kept me under her spell, trapped in a place that had become my home.

Suddenly, I saw how I actually did not want to come out of my dark and dingy cell. It had become my story, and no matter what, I felt safe in my prison. Desperately safe. Because there is a big, scary world out there, and I had grown immensely small within those walls. I chose to stay invisible to keep myself out of harm’s way, even if that meant never allowing myself the joy of remembering all that I am or becoming the Master I was always meant to be.

It’s funny how all the other Shaumbra were cheering me to come out of that dark place. They all held their hands out, ready to catch me if I felt. “Get out of that hole girl. You have been telling this story so long, it is not yours anymore. You are the Master and do not belong there.”

I just couldn’t.

I know many would say I was enjoying my creation, but the truth is that I just felt sheer terror running through my body whenever I attempted to get out. Something wanted me to remain in that prison and it was actually controlling my life in the background. Only recently I saw how I believed that if I ever got out, I would die. It must have been such a fearful conviction that I simply chose to bury myself in there so to stay alive. Clearly, I was still under the old lady’s spell.

When I saw this, I cried like never before, because I did not have the courage to tell anyone how I have been feeling every single moment of my life. I grew up in a prison because it’s all I knew. And yet I never wanted to leave, because then the story would end, and I would die. I could not see beyond that. It is funny really, almost like a tragic comedy with a bad title: “The Girl who Buried Herself Alive in Her Endless Story.”

Recently my cell had started looking even darker and more constrictive; I would often wake up at night screaming, except that every scream would die within me. No sound would ever come out for I was afraid it would kill me. Kuthumi often tells us of how he lost everything on the way to enlightenment. I certainly felt at times like I was losing myself and it wasn’t much fun. It actually felt scary and very, very lonely.

I begged the old lady to let me go but she just chanted on, her eyes closed tight so she’d never feel life again. Until one day, the walls of my cell started to speak to me. They started to move, whispering my name. “Turn around girl, look at us. Come close. Closer, for we won’t hurt you!”

Every wall turned into a door, and every door started to slide open. Standing right in the center of what had been home all this time, I no longer saw a prison. The darkness had transformed into many different colors of light, and now they all were floating together. I sensed that even my fears and tears were somewhere in that luminous mass, and suddenly all those parts of me who had never felt safe to come back joined the enchanting dance.

As if by magic, slowly everything came to a standstill, and the old lady emerged. She is no longer crippled by her bitter resentment, and her prison has become a sanctuary. Her freedom had been there all along, barely a breath away. The cell we had used to hide from a cruel and ungrateful world became the place where we exist in grace whenever we choose to.

I have often wondered why I named my online adventure “Evoking Grace.” I am not religious, and I was never familiar with this name, let alone what it really means. Now I know. Grace has broken the ancient spell I have been under for so very long. When I found it, I found myself again.

I no longer need to write to get a “Bravo” from my readers or to inspire them to go beyond themselves. They never needed my pain to help them do that. Now I choose to write for the simple joy of it; because it moves my heart and because I simply can. My prison had many doors and no keys, for there were never any locks.

Now that I am out, I can’t wait to go back into what has transformed itself into my safe space whenever I wish to. I spent so long trying to escape and worrying that others would forget about me, that I completely missed how beautiful and nurturing its silence has always been. I chose instead to always be “out there,” letting distraction after distraction keep me away from my inner sanctum and the Grace that had been calling my name for so long. It had never abandoned me.

I guess I must have died on my way out of that ancient prison, and yet I never knew how sweet death would be.


Antonia lives in London UK and is an “Energy Intuitive” & founder of Evoking Grace, an online sacred space designed to inspire you to thrive & live a happier life. She has created a very unique approach which combines intuitive skills, timeless wisdom, and practical tools to help you identify hidden dynamics which stop you from living well and truly enjoy yourself. Her offerings and writings can be found on Evoking Grace, Facebook and Instagram.

1 comments on "A Prison with Many Doors"

  • Viviana on June 10, 2021 2:27 PM said:
    Gracias por compartir tus descubrimientos. Encontré una llave y días después un candado abierto. Como dices: "Mi prisión tenía muchas puertas y ninguna llave, porque nunca hubo cerraduras" Bendiciones.

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