Greetings!
Welcome to my blog: "The Fields of My Becoming". My name is Nirmalpreet. This name was recently given to me as a spiritual name, to help bring about a shift in my consciousness and bodily state. In the tradition in which it was given, "Nir" means "without"; "mal" means "pollution"; and "preet" means "filled with love for God or the infinite".
I am what they call a "wounded healer", although I was basically a healer first, and then dropping that identity, I became a lost soul, trapped within my woundedness. I struggle with both chronic physical illness and mental illness and have been working hard (but perhaps not always smart) to recover from both. After years of repeated hospitalizations that beat me down, stripped me of all self-esteem, and kept me on a nightmarish merry-go-round, I have found a way to build a life that is freer and more stable - one small brick at a time.
Recently, as I have shifted my recovery process away from medicating ailments and soothing an agonized spirit toward the process of self-empowerment and opening, I have felt moved to create a blog to chronicle my experience, insight, and knowledge. In recent months, as I have allowed myself to believe in my potential for healing - true healing as opposed to symptom relief, after almost a decade long hiatus, I have suddenly found myself once again inspired to be of service to the greater whole.
This poem, which provides the inspiration for my blog title, is as relevant for me today as it was in 2001 when I wrote it and was excited to begin my career as a therapist. I hope you enjoy it.
My Present Becoming
I travel far into the reaches of my mind,
Where the cobwebs are thick,
To gather new fruit for ripening,
And I study the fallow fields
That I have left untouched, unclaimed,
And wonder at all I may become.
I glimpse into the future,
To the land of my making,
And imagine my amazement
As I reap in the harvest
From seed I dared to plant,
And I know what I can become.
I revel in the joy,
Give thanks for the abundance,
I dance, I laugh, I sing, shout even,
Then bury the weeds of prior doubt,
Clear the cobwebs and the brambles,
And hasten to plant them –
These fields of my present becoming.
- Nirmalpreet, 2001
