The Journey From Unconscious Scapegoat to Awakened Seer | When the Feminine Rises, The Seer Awakens | Part Six

In the previous blog of this series, I shared what happened immediately after my near death experience.

Instead of returning to normal life, my perception of the world had changed in ways I did not understand.

My senses became sharper and I began to notice aspects of reality that had previously been invisible to me.

At the time, I had no explanation for what was happening to me.

What I was experiencing felt overwhelming, and at times frightening.

This part of the journey continues from that point, as those perceptions began to deepen and expand.

The Return of the Wild Soul

“Within every woman there lives a powerful force, filled with good instincts, passionate creativity, and ageless knowing.”― Clarissa Pinkola Estés

It was during this time that the feminine aspect of my nature began to rise into conscious awareness, initiating the slow integration of the masculine and feminine within me.

And when she was finally allowed to surface from the dark prison I had caged her in, she did not emerge gently. She came up with full force, like a wild animal released from captivity, uncontained, untamed, and unapologetic.

I found myself navigating through the deep realm of emotions and intuition, connected to her watery depths.

And in this space, I could not shake a feeling that had stayed with me since my encounter with the luminous realm.

The sense that it was my real home, and that this world was somewhere other than that.

But that place was beginning to feel far away.

Like a dream remembered only in fragments after waking.

The clarity of it was fading.

Yet it never left me entirely. Something of it has always remained within me, even up until this present day.

What I had been shown there about myself continued to move me forward, calling me toward a deeper unfolding of my divine potential.

It became my North Star.

A subtle, constant orientation guiding me onward through what lay ahead.

What remained was a strange sense of unreality.

Everything felt slightly off.

Untethered.

Less solid than before.

It felt as though I had been asleep my entire life and someone had suddenly shone a powerful torch straight into my face, waking me abruptly and without warning.

All my senses switched on at once.

No longer limited to the five senses we are taught are the only ones that have value in modern day society.

Ones that were never allowed to exist, let alone be acknowledged or believed.

Ones that are routinely dismissed or mocked because they cannot be easily seen, measured, or explained.

I was beginning to realise that there were parts of me that could sense far more than the physical world.

Ways of perceiving emotion, energy, and atmosphere that exist beyond ordinary sight and hearing.

These abilities were not something new I had gained.

They felt more like something I had forgotten and was now remembering, awakened by the near death experience.

My senses became painfully sharp, as though the volume of the world had been turned up too high.

It was as though I had been plugged into a power source far too strong for my body to hold.

Electricity surged through me.

It was overwhelming.

Crippling even.

I felt like I was on fire.

Like a cable carrying too much current, with everything rushing through me at once.

The whole universe coursing through my nervous system.

Whatever was happening to me was affecting the physical world too.

Light bulbs would explode.

Car alarms would activate in my presence.

Even my bed frame would rattle as I tried to sleep.

And that was not all.

I also became acutely aware of an invisible world of energy surrounding living things.

I could tune into other layers of reality and perceive what people often call auras or biofields: the magnetic field that surrounds all forms of life, something that can now be measured scientifically.

I could see colours around people, subtle but vivid, radiating outward from their bodies, revealing the emotional and energetic states they were carrying within them.

This new sight allowed me to discern when someone was operating from a place of true light and authenticity.

It also revealed the carefully constructed masks of those who appeared to be but were operating from false light.

I began to feel people’s intentions beneath the words they were speaking with a clarity that astonished me.

The rose coloured glasses I had worn when I saw only the best in people fell away rapidly as my perception sharpened. I was now seeing them as they truly were, rather than as I had once wished them to be.

It was here that I was often shown their pain points, most of which were rooted in childhood.

The place where the original wound had been formed, then pushed down into the shadow and denied, as though it did not exist at all.

And how that suppression had affected their subtle bodies and disconnected them from themselves.

As I mentioned previously, I had been highly intuitive and perceptive as a child, but this was something else entirely.

A completely different level of perception.

Because I was so attuned to their pain, it felt as though it was my own.

To feel everyone’s pain at this level was so excruciating it nearly broke me.

It was almost unbearably overwhelming.

What I was sensing felt like my own thoughts and emotions, and I could not tell where I ended and other people began.

I was living in a constant state of emotional enmeshment.

There were no longer clear boundaries between what was mine and what was not.

No sense of separation.

Just a whirl of other people’s feelings.

I felt completely open.

Exposed.

Unprotected from the inner worlds of others.

It was deeply unsettling, especially as I no longer knew who I was, which only amplified the feeling.

And to feel this so intensely initiated a deep sorrow within me, activating my own suppressed emotions and wounds.

“The way down is the way out.”― James Hillman

Bringing up everything I had lost and endured so far in my life.

The pain.

The loneliness.

The trauma.

I sobbed for what felt like forever.

Deep, guttural sounds tore out of me, like an animal in pain, and it went on for weeks.

It felt as though my heart was breaking in two.

Wave after wave of emotion rose to be felt, cleansed, and released.

As if feeling everyone’s emotions and thoughts was not enough, I soon discovered that this sensitivity extended beyond people and into the realm of all living things.

That became abundantly clear the day I walked into my local garden centre.

Awakening to the Living Field

As my recovery continued, I went to buy some plants, hoping to brighten my home and lift my spirits while I convalesced. I had been many times before and had always loved it.

The greenery.

The tranquillity.

The way it usually made me feel so peaceful and centred.

I was looking forward to sitting in their cafe, having a cup of tea and a slice of cake, returning to everyday life, and feeling vaguely human again. I thought this small, ordinary ritual might help me find my footing.

But as soon as I sat down, I was suddenly overwhelmed by distress. A deep physical pain surged through me, as though something had been torn open. It washed over me like a wave, and I felt the familiar sensation of slipping out of ordinary reality again.

Another panic attack was approaching fast, and I leapt up from the table, knocking things over in my rush to escape whatever was happening.

As I made my way towards the exit, the sensation intensified. And then I noticed the staff trimming the flowers.

Something inside me registered what was happening before my mind could catch up.

In that moment, I realised I could feel their pain.

Not metaphorically.

Literally.

I could feel the shock and distress of the plants as they were being cut.

Their living consciousness registered the harm, and it moved straight through me, unfiltered.

Everyone around me was oblivious.

Carrying on as normal.

Drinking coffee.

Buying compost.

I stood there in the middle of it all, flooded with grief for something no one else could perceive, unable to do anything to ease their pain.

I wanted to shout from the top of my lungs to tell the shop worker to stop.

To explain why it mattered.

But to say something like that out loud would have been to invite the doctors in white coats to come and cart me away.

I had already experienced that with the doctors in the hospital and could not bear their pitying, alarmed reactions and the look that suggested I was somehow unhinged.

So I stayed silent.

Instead, all I could do was silently send deep compassion to the flowers, acknowledge their suffering, and apologise for what was happening to them, letting them know that I saw them and that their suffering mattered to me.

This is the point where people think you are crazy. And, to be honest, it is also the point where you think you are crazy yourself.

But in truth, what had happened was something far stranger and far more profound. I had become aware of the consciousness within all living things.

Once that awareness had switched on, there was no simple way to return to the old world I had inhabited before.

The old feeling I had experienced in the hospital began to surface again.

That sense of losing my mind. Of standing on the edge of something I could not name or control.

At first, the scientific explanation had brought relief. It had given me something to hold onto. Something solid. Something that allowed me to feel sane again.

But now I was no longer sure I believed it.

And in that uncertainty, I found myself suspended between two realities.

One that told me I was mentally ill.

And another that told me I was seeing something that truly existed, that most others could not see.

I was living in a constant flux of cognitive dissonance, at war with myself, tearing my own perceptions apart in an attempt to make sense of this new sight that had been activated within the world I was living in.

Part of me clung to reason.

Part of me knew that explanation was no longer enough.

And somewhere in between, I felt myself slowly unravelling again, caught between madness and meaning, unable to return to either unchanged.

I was beginning to understand that I would have to learn to live within the liminal space between two worlds, and that what I had seen so far was only the beginning.

“The psyche knows what it is doing even when the conscious mind is lost.”― John Weir Perry

The Shock of Second Sight

The cognitive dissonance only deepened as my awareness expanded beyond the physical and emotional senses and into the spiritual.

What I had dismissed as hallucination in the hospital was now following me into ordinary life.

And it was not going away.

Nor was it only the living field that I had become aware of.

As I struggled to acclimatise to these new extrasensory abilities, it became apparent that I could now see spirit people connected to those I encountered in everyday life.

They would appear around the living, often trying to use me as a bridge, as though they knew I could perceive them and might be able to pass messages on to their loved ones.

Whatever had been activated in me, I must have looked like a lighthouse to them, because they came in droves, all trying to get my attention and speak at once.

Even when I sought solitude in my own home, they came to me there too.

In truth, they seemed to be everywhere I went.

It was worse when I tried to sleep.

I would drift off, only for random spirit faces to suddenly appear in front of me, jolting me fully awake again. Night after night, I lay there unable to rest, too frightened and overstimulated to return to sleep.

There were many nights when all I could do was get out of bed, put the kettle on, and sit quietly through the small hours, trying to calm my nervous system enough to make it through until morning.

At this stage of my awakening, when I eventually fell asleep, my body would begin to vibrate and loosen, and I could feel myself leaving it.

I would feel my body humming intensely, accompanied by a roaring sound, as though a jumbo jet were coming in to land on the bed.

Then I would find myself travelling beyond the physical form, just as I had during the near death experience, and on my return remembering and being conscious of it all.

Additionally, my dream state had become vivid and relentless.

These dreams felt different from anything I had known before this awakening.

Charged.

Symbolic.

Prophetic.

It was here that knowledge from the higher spirit realms began to flow down into my being.

On receiving that information, what some might call a download, I began to question everything I had been taught.

And when I say everything, I mean everything.

Who I was.

What I believed.

What this place we lived in really was.

And whether what I had been told by others was actually true.

When you begin asking so many questions and are no longer sure what is real and what is false, you can begin to feel profoundly unhinged.

Like Alice in Wonderland falling down the rabbit hole.

How could anyone live like this?

As an example, I could be doing the most mundane tasks when, without warning, I would begin to spontaneously remote view, suddenly finding myself face to face with strangers on a train, caught in the middle of the rush hour commute home.

What the hell was happening? And more importantly, why?

I was completely unprepared for experiences of this magnitude. I did not want this.

I just wanted to return to the quiet, ordinary life I had before.

To say it was startling is an understatement. It felt as though I was no longer fully physical. As though I existed in some in-between state.

Like something out of Star Trek, where the transporter phases people between worlds by dissolving and reassembling their atoms.

Only this was not science fiction. It was happening in the middle of my everyday life, and I could not seem to control it.

I needed answers quickly if I was not going to lose my mind and my grip on reality.

What was happening to me could not be avoided, medicated, or numbed away. It was not fading. There was no running from it.

It was demanding to be faced.

It was gaining momentum.

I began to feel that if I did not meet it consciously, it would overwhelm me and swallow me whole. Just like Jonah and the Whale.

So I did the only thing I could think to do.

I got down on my knees, lifted my gaze upwards to the heavens, and sent a sincere plea for help.

A desperate prayer for something, anything, that might help me understand what was happening to me and, most importantly, how to make it stop.

And my prayer was answered.

Not with words.

Not with comfort.

But something in me shifted.

A recognition.

A call from my own soul.

And with that, the seeker within me stepped forward, steady and supported by something far greater than myself.

In that moment, I began to accept that this was who I had become, and that experiences like this would now be a permanent feature of my life.

In that moment, I stopped resisting the change that was asking to be met within me.

In that moment, I surrendered to the call of the wild feminine.

And from that point on, my life was no longer about returning to what had been lost.

That door had slammed shut.

It instead became a descent into truth.

A relentless search for understanding.

A willingness to look where I had been conditioned not to look.

Because I knew then that there was no going back to who I had been before.

Only forward.

Only deeper.

Toward whatever was calling me on the other side of that knowing.

The Pathway of the Seeker

From here onwards, I begin to explore why these things happened, and what I had to learn in order to survive them, grow from them, and eventually serve others as part of my life’s purpose.

I needed answers.

Answers about the place I had visited during the near death experience.

Answers about what I had been seeing in the hospital.

The spirit people.

The realm of the insect beings.

And whatever it was they were feeding on.

I needed to answer, once and for all, the question that continually haunted me: was I in psychosis, or had I somehow stepped outside the boundaries of our collectively agreed reality?

As The Journey from Unconscious Scapegoat to Awakened Seer moves towards its completion in Parts seven, eight and nine, the story shifts into that quest for answers.

Into the knowledge that eventually allowed me to navigate those tumultuous waters.

And into the deeper work of reclaiming myself.

Not to who I had been before.

But to who I had always been beneath the wounds.

Beneath the identities I had been given.

Beneath who I had been taught to be.

Beneath what had been imposed on me without my conscious consent.

To fully embody, into my physical being, the version of myself I had witnessed in the afterlife.

To become that which I was born to become.

You may recognise parts of yourself in this story.

Especially in a world that, in recent years, has stripped many people of certainty, identity, and stability.

Where familiar foundations people once relied upon have fallen away and there is a real fear of change.

Where suffering has forced many to question what is real, and who they are beneath what they were told they should be.

There are moments in human history when old paradigms reach their limits. The structures people once relied upon begin to collapse. In those moments, people find themselves standing at the edge of something they were never taught how to navigate.

A world without wise and experienced elders.

Without initiatory frameworks.

Without language for what is happening inside them.

Without true guidance from those they believed could lead them.

From those they assumed had their best interests at heart.

Yet many of those same people were themselves caught in cognitive dissonance.

Living inside belief rather than the clarity that comes from true knowing within the spirit.

The time for answers is now.

Answers that come from within.

“The soul is the place where the inner and outer worlds meet.”― John O’Donohue

My work exists for those standing at that edge.

Not to soften this path, but to speak honestly about what it sometimes demands, and what it gives in return.

Some of the awakening experiences I have shared so far may feel unsettling or confronting to read.

It may even sound extreme.

Remember, as I mentioned earlier, what I experienced was the result of a premature kundalini awakening followed by an existential crisis.

The intensity of my awakening was shaped by those events.

Fear of seeing such things again, especially the darker insect world I had witnessed, made me fight the very process that was trying to open within me.

To be honest and transparent about it, I was petrified of looking into it again

So I resisted the awakening rather than surrendering to it.

And in doing so, I only amplified the severity of the process.

I fought it every step of the way, trying to return to who I had been before.

But I could not.

I was no longer that person, and yet I had not become what I was unfolding into.

Please know that your own awakening does not need to happen with the same level of upheaval as mine did.

The way this unfolds for you may be very different in nature.

What remains consistent, however, is the underlying pattern.

The template of awakening is the same, regardless of the pace or intensity with which it arrives.

One thing is certain.

Awakening is messy, no matter what form it comes in.

It is not sitting in neutral coloured cheesecloth, serene and ethereal like a swan gliding across still water.

It is not waving incense sticks, wearing colourful prayer beads and reciting mantras all day long.

It is raw.

It is bewilderingly confusing.

It is a stripping down of everything inauthentic.

It is the dismantling of what cannot survive truth.

And to be brutally honest, that can feel very painful.

Especially if you resist it and try to control it, as I did.

Yet within that dismantling something continues to guide the way.

A subtle point of orientation.

Like a North Star.

Even when the lights around you go out, it continues to point the way forward.

Toward the potential you came here to become.

And it was by following that inner orientation that my search for truth truly began.

In the next part, I begin to share the knowledge I gained on that quest for answers, and the understanding that helped me find my way through this initiatory process.

The understanding that allowed me to stabilise what was happening within me.

The truths about myself I had to confront.

The illusions I had to dismantle.

The parts of myself I could no longer hide from.

And ultimately, the integration of the divine feminine and masculine within me.

Because awakening is not the end of the story.

It is the threshold.

Where the real work begins.

Where the gold is forged.

“It is not what you look at that matters, it is what you see.”― Henry David Thoreau

Because once you truly begin to see, there is no returning to the world as it once appeared.

And it is here that the Seer is born, carrying truth into a world that may not yet be ready to see it.

And in the next instalment, that is exactly where we go next.

Coming Next in Part Seven: The Initiation of the Seer

In Part Seven, the journey reaches a turning point in the Unconscious Scapegoat to Awakened Seer.

What I once believed might be madness begins to reveal itself as something far older and far more deliberate: the initiatory process known across many traditions as the shamanic death.

In this next part, I begin to explore what initiation truly is, and why certain individuals throughout history have been pushed through experiences that dismantle their former identity in order to awaken a deeper form of perception.

I share how my search for answers led me deeper into the nature of the spirit world, including the encounters I had in the hospital and the strange realm of the insect beings.

Slowly, what had seemed chaotic and terrifying began to form a pattern.

A pattern that revealed the archetypal role of the Seer.

And the purpose such initiations have served throughout human history.

In Part Seven, I begin to uncover what that process was asking of me ― and what it ultimately revealed about the nature of awakening itself.

Join me in the next chapter of my journey.

See you there!