Sometimes life doesn’t fall apart — it dismembers us.
Not as punishment, but as preparation. This seems to be part of the story that we are in right now, individually and collectively.
The other night, I dreamt I was working with a doctor to help someone who had been gravely ill for years. She was ready for her final injection — an act that, in the dream, felt less like death and more like release. It was secret, solemn, and strangely beautiful.
There was a wooden box that held the tools we needed: a needle, a medallion, and a knife. The box felt sacred — a vessel of both healing and protection. When someone placed ordinary objects inside it, I felt the sting of watching something holy treated carelessly.
Later, I searched for a priest I once loved when I was young. I wanted him to come with us, to bless what was about to unfold. But his number no longer worked. There was no way to reach him.
When I woke, I realized the dream wasn’t about death at all, but about completion — the moment when something we have tended for too long is finally ready to be released. The doctor, the tools, the priest, the secrecy — they all spoke of the tenderness required when we let go of what once gave our life meaning, yet no longer belongs to us.
Sometimes, the letting go is more graphic.
A few days earlier, during a journey for a client, I saw someone being literally dismembered — like a robot made of metallic magnets — and then beautifully re-membered. My Spirit guides used that exact word, which struck me as an intentional play on the act of being put together again.
If you have ever worked with me, you may have heard me say that a large part of the spiritual path — living fully as a soul having a human experience — is to forget and remember, again and again. We often think of forgetting as a purely mental process. Yet, it can also be an energetic dismantling, a dismemberment of different aspects of our lives. Not as destruction, but as a sacred reconfiguration — so that the pieces can return in a new arrangement, from a deeper place. For my client, that place was the heart.
There are seasons when letting go is not an act of despair, or even loss, but of devotion.
It is the quiet, unseen ritual of the soul: preparing the space, gathering the right companions, and offering gratitude before gently closing the lid on what has served its time.
Fall is the season that invites us to turn inward and mirror nature’s cycle of shedding. The trees let go without hesitation, without fear of what will come next. They release because the cycle demands it. Because life continues.
This is my invitation to you:
- What is calling to be released this season?
- Where might you benefit from a gentle dismemberment — a reconfiguration of the old structure?
- How can you approach this with tenderness and a sense of the sacred? How can you trust the re-membering to happen in its own timing?
Let me know how it unfolds for you.
And, as always, if you need support in the process, I am here.
Béatrice Pouligny | Shaman, Spiritual Healer and Coach
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