A Soul Retrieval on the River Styx: Ancestral Healing & Wild Calling (part four of six)

I had met the Circle of Stone Mothers—and I returned their legacy of silence and disempowerment. Left their burden of shame with them.

But afterwards, there was sadness. Not Fog, but sadness.

And this sadness had a particular texture.

Now that I understand what happened, I can name it: the sadness of soul loss. That flat, lifeless absence—like part of your life force has fled for safety.

I know that feeling well. A part splits off during trauma, and what’s left is numbness, a quiet hollowness.

This is what remained after the ceremony. I couldn’t understand it. Had something gone wrong? Was a new layer uncovered—or was integration still unfolding?

As I sat with it, a part of me wanted to look away. There was disgust.

More images. A woman weeping over a dead child.
A child curled into herself, unseen, invalidated.
But this wasn’t my grief… was it? Why should I feel it. I was indignant and frustrated.
The 4 of Cups reversed – refusal, resistance.

So now it seems there is something I must face for myself, not for my Ancestors.

I pulled cards to understand.

I recieved a message: Look into the dragon’s eye. Peer into the portal. Be brave. Lean in. Look closer.
I was told I am on the sacred path of rebirth—but life begins in the dark.

Then the Six of Wands reversed—a delayed crossing, uncertainty.

Something trying to come with me? Or something left behind?

Clearly I saw myself, still adrift—on the boat between the underworld and the riverbank. Caught in the liminal space. Something tugging me back there.

This imagery resonates. A riverbank shrouded in mist, just out of reach. No energy to row. Just drifting, listless.

Was I still holding something that needed to be released? Was the ceremony incomplete?
I sat with this question.

Ritual for my Return on the River Styx

Back to the Underworld to Retrieve what I Left Behind

This time, the ritual was more intuitive. Less formal. But equally sacred.

I laid out the stone circle again, and added the dragon’s eye—the portal of deeper sight.
At its center, I placed an object for the legacy burden, to ensure it could be fully witnessed (in case I had missed something last ime).

I marked the riverbanks:

For the Underworld of Wounds: Eight of Wands reversed, Four of Cups reversed.

For the life I yearned to return to: Wolf Instinct, Mountain Strength, Spring Equinox (Earth Magic).

In the liminal center, between the worlds:

Six of Swords reversed, paired with the Ace of Pentacles.

An object for my sadness sat in the boat of the Six of Swords—alongside one for myself.

I felt myself in that boat, cradled by sadness.
Tears came—but this time for the part of me I had abandoned. For the lifeforce I had left behind.

As I looked to the Stone Mothers, I saw how they too had abandoned themselves. How they had allowed what happened. I saw how this Wound of Abandonment was passed down through them, to me.

And then I turned toward the riverbank—toward the wolf, her warm den, her cubs, her fur; toward Mother Earth, holding her young rabbit in springtime—and I felt something leap within me.

A fierce yearning.
A need to be held.
A need I’ve always had.

And in that moment, what returned to me was my own Exile—the part of me I had forsaken.
I felt her pain, her need for mothering. And I saw the truth:

I had tended to the legacy burden of abandonment, of the unseen child passed down generationally…
but I had neglected my own personal abandonment entangled within this legacy.

“At last, I was not forgotten.
At last, someone stood on my side.
At last, someone saw that I was not the same as the legacy burden.
And you—my adult self—you chose me.
That is the first fair thing that has ever happened to me.”

My mother who neglected my needs. Who met my budding sexuality with distaste.
Who turned away from the lifeforce rising within me at my own Springtime.

So I visualised myself leaving the boat, stepping onto the riverbank.
And there—I was embraced.

Held completely by all the instinctive, wild, natural Mother Energy.

It was glorious, I didn't want to leave. I held my Exile—my rabbit-child—and I mothered her, the same way I was being mothered there. Felt her rapidly beating tiny heart in my own chest.

And my sadness stayed in the boat.
She held the legacy burden—the ancient wound of the unacknowledged child—and drifted gently back to the other shore.
To the ancestors, who can now hold that with reverence.

I kept my Exile, my life force, my child-self.
She belongs with me now, on this lush, living riverbank, where mothering is sacred and instinctive and real.

I pulled one final card—to hear from the Exile I reclaimed.

Justice.

The restoration of balance.
Of right relationship.
Of truth, after distortion.

Sacred justice. Soul-deep justice.
The kind that comes when the abandoned child is finally seen, held, chosen.

My Abandoned Exile Speaks:

Justice marks the restoration of identity.

I am no longer fused with ancestral trauma.
I am no longer mistaken for the burden.
I have claimed my own child-self and brought her home—to the right shore.

A mythic rite of rebalancing—one that ripples forward and backward through my lineage.
A turning of the tide.
A return of the soul.

If this resonates...

If you feel yourself with that pervasive empty sadness, like something is missing, a vital spark maybe...

If you’ve suffered trauma — especially developmental or complex trauma — then it’s very likely your system protected itself the only way it could: by fragmenting. A tender, precious part of you was tucked away deep inside, hidden from harm.

In Shamanic traditions, this is known as soul loss. In Western terms, we might call it dissociation, or the exile of a part of self. Either way, a piece of your wholeness was set aside to survive — and now it may be time to gently welcome it back.

Using tools like parts dialogue, tarot, ritual, and constellation I create a version of the Soul Retrieval ceremony, to call you back to yourself in safety and love.