Intuition is a fussy thing; it can come and go, and it can be blocked out by daily stresses, the heaviness of trauma, and the murkiness of a malnourished spirit. Nourishing the self is difficult at times—reasons ranging from too much work to lack of contact with nature to denial or fear of self-love.
When we begin to disconnect from our selves, our intuition—that glimmering inner melody, the sky of the Self—stops humming, stops moving. The house of our body becomes stagnant, hungry, muted. It happens to us all—and this is where your amethyst Chakrub can help.
Amethyst is beloved for many reasons. The ancient Greeks called the purple beauty “amethystos,” meaning “not drunken,” for they saw in it the ability to make one sober, clear-minded, and stable. And though it is often used to support people in their path out of addiction and into recovery, its stabilizing effects offer a beautiful spiritual element too—creating space for divine messages and inner wisdom.
In this poetic ritual, you’ll work with your amethyst Chakrub to recite a poem that calls upon your intuition and divinity. It should be done at night, before you fall asleep. Here, you’ll let the heaviness of the day—or of your heart—be healed and heard, and you’ll create a call to thin the veil between spiritual or physical disconnection and wisdom.
Optional: incense or essential oils such as sandalwood, cedar, or frankincense—which are used often in meditation. The scent should be relaxing, peaceful, and earthly, reminding you to abandon the synthetic and the halogen and the temporary, and enter into the natural, internal realms.
Be sure to shower and wear something (or nothing) that feels comfortable; you want to be clean and open to the energies of this ritual. Perform this when alone as a pre-sleep ritual. Disconnect from all technology—turn your phone to airplane mode, prevent any unnatural light from shining, and silence all other notifications.
Light candles nearby so that they can be easily snuffed out (please don’t fall asleep with them burning). Arrange your bed (or space where you will sleep) so that it is clear and comfortable. Make any adjustments per your needs.
Take a moment to calm your mind, steady your heartpace and find a connection to your body. Close your eyes and hold your Chakrub over your forehead; settle it upon your third eye, and envision the space between your eyes widening so that you can see beyond what vision you’ve been given and into another realm. Imagine it radiating a sparkling lilac light, penetrating your skin and sinking into the deepest parts of your being. Imagine it cleansing your body of negative and distracting feelings and thoughts. Let it sing; let it hold you in its power; trust it to take you into a place of eternal, shimmering truth.
Move the Chakrub down the length your body—paying close attention to the parts of the body that need to be opened, made more flexible, made to feel more seen—a scar, a pain area, a tight joint, your naked body. What feels closed off, receiving? What feels as though intuition’s gentle touch has been denied? You might notice that when your intuition is off—when you don’t trust yourself, or when you second guess yourself, or when you’ve stopped dreaming or knowing the right choice or direction for yourself—that your stomach hurts or your chest feels tight. It might feel as though your heart is beating without a rhythm, beating just to beat—rather than being connected to the musicality, or the truth, of the Self. Hold the Chakrub to these areas and let its shimmering energies pool across your body.
Take note of any thoughts that cross your mind. Imagine them as flower petals that gently move away, down an idle stream. See them, and let them go. Do this continually as they come up. Do not fear intrusive thoughts; they are natural.
Imagine, as you hold the Chakrub to the part of your body that feels most in need, that you have come upon a sea at dusk; there is enough light to see, yet the moon and stars have trickled down into view. The ocean is glowing turquoise; it is lapping against the shore and you can hear its whisper-roar. As you come nearer to the shore, the warm white foam bubbles around your ankles and you can see through the water. Shells and sea flora blossom here and there, and you connect with them. Touch them, if you’d like. You let the water pull and push its way and stand watching its dazzling kindness. The moon is bright and the stars above are many and generous. The light spills into the tide, and glitters in the distance. What do you feel? What can you smell? How does the breeze feel?
Take note of your feelings, let anything that needs to pass pass, and look out at the water. In the middle of the sea, out in the distance, is your truth. What is it? What is it shaped of? Is it your happiness? Is it leaving your job? Is it self-kindness? Is it time with friends? Or, is it something else you can’t quite understand. That is good. Perhaps you see nature, or your body, your childhood home? What do you feel fear around? What secret do you feel coming to surface? Is it a long-buried feeling? Is it a hunch that has gone silenced? Is it a need for something you’ve ignored? Why have you been resistant? Root your realizations in the sea. Feelings of regret or shame can pass. This is only a space for recognition and realization. For intuition.
Ask it to come closer; let the sea pull your truth to shore. As it comes closer and closer, acknowledge any resistance or worry or fear. It may be that your truth is difficult. Simply let the ocean bring it nearer to you, and acknowledge it.
Meditate on what you see or feel; acknowledge your truth and promise to honor it. Play in this sea, let it move through you. Swim toward it, let it come to you, or sit on the sand and let it wash over your legs or thighs.
When you feel that you have connected with some part of you that has been quieted or lost, open your eyes and read this poem aloud:
The sea is the secret
& the secret is me.
Filled of wild time and sacred dreams,
this, this body, is the garden of waking sleep.
In closing my eyes I see
the shape of me sing.
The brink of this body
crests; before, there were only
Waves: waves tidal and waves hungry.
Now, the waves smooth to sand
to listen at the veil of earth.What is the sea without the shore?What is this bodywithout the stars?
The sea is the secret,
And the secret is me.
I am the fauna that grows at dusk.
I am the foam that moves of love.
I am the expanse of things unseen.
I am the light of tidal dreams.
After you have read the incantation, close your eyes and hold the Chakrub to your forehead. Ask out loud that in sleep you will be illuminated by dreams of wisdom and sparked by intuitive feelings. After the ritual, remain disconnected; imagine the sea tiding back and forth, with your truth in the distance. What is it you feel in your gut as you fall asleep? What is it that you are intuitively feeling?
Sleep with the Chakrub beneath your pillow or near your pillow.
In the days coming, honor your feelings. Record your dreams, notice any strange coincidences ore feelings. Make time to hold your Chakrubs. What is it that you are feeling strongly about? Do you suddenly feel more clarity around an issue? Are things coming up for you that you haven’t thought about lately? Take care of yourself as you move through those feelings.
In the wide, wild sea of our inner truth, intuition can be a saving grace. It helps keep us in touch with what feels right and authentic, but it can be frightening if we don’t want to listen.
Learning to listen to our intuition—and to the sky and trees and the sea, nature’s divine wisdom—is integral to our physical and mental health. Turn to your Chakrub whenever you feel you need to connect with that Self, with nature, and with that tide of sincerity ebbing and flowing with you.