Posts Tagged ‘body’

I wonder when we will trust our bodies again?

I studied under a “spiritual teacher” for several years that used the language “the highest good”.  Her answer to difficult things happening in the world was to “pray for the highest good”.  Her answer to when we had conflict (excuse me, when I created conflict by disagreeing or “being in resistance“)  was to “pray for the highest good”.  Her questions to her inner guidance were, “What is in the highest good?”

I learned many valuable lessons from her, for which I am profoundly grateful.  However, when she and I parted ways was the moment I got to see (painfully) that her philosophy excluded much of All Creation from Divinity.  It happened in our kitchen.  My husband and I were speaking with her while carpet layers were installing new carpet in the next room.  She was speaking of “spiritual people”, and how some people just weren’t able to understand or weren’t at “the same level”; she motioned with her eyes and gestured to indicate the men in the next room. 

Peter and I had experienced those men to be joyful in their work, present and attentive.  Yes, they were missing some teeth.  Yes, they may have descended from farmers in this rural area.  Yes, they had maybe dropped out of high school in 10^th grade.  Yes, they may not have been comfortable holding a philosophical discussion.  But it was very clear that they were Spirit incarnate; their presence sung clearly in the morning sunshine streaming through the window, illuminating their work.  How were they not “spiritual”?  This was the end of the “spiritual training” under this teacher, and the return to my childhood knowing of Life being my truest spiritual teacher.

 It has taken some time to break that spell in my own mind of thinking in terms of “the highest good”.  Those words imply that there is an apex, some sort of “one right path”, as opposed to many, many paths that could be supportive and life affirming.   The “highest good” implies that there are things that fall outside of the Great Wheel of Life.  It implies that there are mistakes, that we cannot trust life, that we can somehow control the Divine.   It is a seductive belief system to try on.

I have determined that “the highest good” is a separatist philosophy, just as much as fundamentalist religion is.  That some things are somehow “outside” the embrace of Divinity is just pure madness to me.

And feelings, or emotions are part of Divinity too.  Just because we don’t like to deal with all of them (those pesky “negative” emotions are quite messy after all) doesn’t mean that they are not part of Divinity, too. 

Babies need diaper changes.  Crops and marriages and plans fail.  Folks get sick.  Folks die.  Animal species go extinct.  Natural disasters occur.  Tragedies happen.  Tough, shitty stuff is part of being alive.  Are these folks who don’t acknowledge emotion trying to say that we are not supposed to FEEL when these things happen?

Is there anything that is NOT part of Divinity?    Is there anything that is NOT part of ALL Creation?  If so, where is it?  Is there such a thing as “outside Divinity”?  Where does it live?

If our desire is to be PART OF All Creation, then doesn’t it make sense that we acknowledge that EVERYTHING is part of All Creation, including sadness, anger, frustration, despair, all of that messy human stuff, too?

Our bodies tell us these things, if we will but listen.  We argue.  We have sex.  We eat.  We eliminate from our bodies…is that solid mass in the toilet part of Divinity, too?  (Of course it is!)  We have comings and goings, happiness and sadness, fun things that happen and tragedies that happen.  And they are ALL part of Divinity.  Being human is PART OF DIVINITY.  There is no separation.

It is a terrible trap that many people have fallen into, this philosophy that there are things that are Divine and things that somehow fall outside that category.  It is a way for us to separate ourselves from other human beings, others’ feelings, and Divinity itself.

My last post has struck a nerve for some of you, and I’m glad to know I’m far from alone in critically examining this word “witch” and trying to understand what it means in an original sense, rather than a pop culture, commercial, colonial, Christian or patriarchal sense (did I leave anybody out?)

 I feel the need to explain why being called a witch is something that stopped me in my tracks.  I have been proud to be a rebel or outsider all of my life, not being willing to be defined by any category or fit into the main stream ideas of what a woman is supposed to be.  I have flaunted my independence, and happily yelled “THANKS!” when someone told me I was weird or different.  However, unlike when a fellow yelled at me from his passing car, “DYKE!” in my buzz cut college phase (I was fine with that mistaken label), being called a “witch” felt too close to home, insidious, and brought up a sinking feeling of terror. 

 I couldn’t understand why I would feel that way in terms of my actual life.  I have never identified myself as a witch, although in my spiritual practice I do some things that might raise the eyebrows of bible thumpers (such as meditation, using homeopathy and herbs to treat illness, and dowsing, a very useful skill I learned from an old woman in the mountains of North Carolina). Of course, my shamanic work could be classified as witchy were it not for its connections to the indigenous populations…or are they “witches”, too?

 While I lived in the village where I was “identified as a public enemy” (before I knew anything about these behind-the-hand remarks about me) I had intuitive flashes in which an angry mob would come drag me out of my office, grab me by my hair and drag me down the street.  The intuitive vision would stop there, not revealing the fate of the woman I seemed to be in the inner vision.  But the feeling of cold stones weighing down the innards of my belly did not easily or soon cease. 

This was not an entirely new sensation for me.  Back in Asheville NC, where we lived for 7 years, I had multiple odd spontaneous awarenesses that involved flashes of me being disemboweled, drowned, or beheaded.  One such instance was preceded by a physical break down of my right shoulder…for weeks it got more and more sore and incapacitated.  After many attempts to have it corrected through chiropractic and massage work (and Advil), in a strange fit of inner knowing, I paused in the living room on my way to take some laundry upstairs and asked silently what my body was telling me. 

Giving in to the motion, my body then took over…I began to move as if somebody much bigger than me was rearranging me like a puppet.  My inner eye saw a lovely young woman with reddish blond curls and a long flowered dress being brought forcibly into a crowd of people.  She must have been 18 or 19 years old.  She was pretty, but had a gleam in her eye and a set to her jaw. My right arm went slammed tight behind my back, fist up behind my heart.  I was forced down to my knees.  My head was pushed down so that I was crouched over.  In my mind’s eye, I saw a bloody stump of a tree, where I was now resting my chest.  As my eyes looked down on red ground, I heard and felt a stalwart, “I will never let this happen to me again.”  Then the “memory” faded, and miraculously, my right shoulder was completely cured.  Never another pain.

I stood there in a bit of a daze.  What the hell had just happened?  Was that girl me?  I wasn’t scared; more I had the feeling of knowing that my body had revealed something to me, and because I gave it permission, something had been released.  It was a pivotal experience affirming my life philosophy, which I have incorporated deeply since, that our bodies are the key to so much wisdom.

Was what happened a playing-out of some kind of cellular or collective memory? Or did I actually live through that?  When I was called “witch” in the tiny town in Colorado where I used to live, was it bringing forth another wave of memories that were asking to be acknowledged and released through me?  If so, what did this mean to me personally?  Why is this such a prominent and repeated feature in my life?

And that’s why I am asking these questions of all of you wise people, and why I feel the need to explore this line of thought.  What is a witch, really?  Where did the word come from, what are its origins?  And when did it become a word for something that was evil, scary, and needing to be put to death?  

And do any of you have these spontaneous memories or experiences?  If so, I would be so honored to hear them.

by Licia Berry, April 2007

 

There is a lot of talk these days in progressive thought or spiritual communities about the “return of the feminine” on the planet.  If you type “re-emergence of the feminine” into an internet search engine, you will find endless articles and quotes about how the feminine is coming back to the earth.  Where did she go?  If this talk is true, it seems the Sacred or Divine Feminine left for a period of several thousand years and has now decided to return from her holiday!

The human suppression of the feminine powers has been a symptom of an era of exploration of immature masculine power.  Through brute force, rape and murder, witch trials, shaming of women’s sexuality, relegation of women to second citizen status, the view of the feminine as a “weaker sex’, and the choice of women to give away their power, it can surely feel as if there is no Divine Feminine present in a world that fosters these beliefs.  It is no wonder that so many have felt abandoned and betrayed by their mothers, whether Divine, planetary or biological.

The true presence of the feminine is a strong one, a presence that cannot be denied, ignored, made invisible, or rendered powerless.  Where has this strong presence been?  Why have we felt her absence?  Why did she leave us?

She didn’t.  In actuality, the Sacred Feminine has been here all along.  While we have been playing out the various and important human dramas and stages of development, she has been right here with us.  It is our awareness of her that has been away.  The presence and integration of the Sacred Feminine into our daily lives slipped away from our consciousness for several thousand years, but now our consciousness has evolved to a point that we are becoming aware of her again. 

Even though humanity has been through some pretty painful experiences as a result of the full exploration of the immature (and sometimes wounded) masculine aspects (or patriarchy), everything is in order.  After several thousand years of full exploration of the feminine (the Stone Age is thought to have been matriarchal), it was time to stretch out into the opposite pole and check out the masculine for awhile.  But now we have come to the time on our planet when it is all about balance.

She is not outside of us.  The idea that the Divine Feminine could have been “gone” all these years is a projection onto the outer world of what is occurring inside of us; it is true that she has been absent from the collective human consciousness for a long time.  And it is also a projection that she is returning in the outer world…truly what is occurring is that she is returning in our inner consciousness, and therefore we feel her in the outer world.  But she has been with us all along, waiting dormant in our inner awareness until we were ready to unearth and embrace her in a deeper, more encompassing way.

 

As a woman, I have had my time of anger and outrage about the “plight” of women and the dominance of patriarchy in our world.  I have felt women to be the victim and made men out to be the bad guys…….and I needed to fully explore that anger in order to come through to the other side of it, so I have no regrets about spending time in that place.   And I will again and again.  As I heal the wounds in myself, I will feel the anger anew, and more deeply, until I am cleansed and feel healed and in my power about my feminine face and ways of knowing being fully valued in the world. 

However, I have grown much beyond my place of powerlessness.  Now what I am finding is that the more I fully claim all of the various faces and aspects of my inner feminine, the more I see her in the world.  The more I embrace ALL aspects of my inner feminine, the more I see ALL aspects of her in my life.  So I see feminine faces of compassion and acceptance, I see strength and ferocity, I see softness and embracing, I see deeply and highly charged sexuality, I see raw power and I see infinite knowing.  And the more I am ready to claim ALL aspects of her in myself, the more I am ready to see and claim her in the collective experience.

My feeling, sense, cellular memory and perhaps other lifetimes of experience tell me that the feminine ways and feminine power needed to go underground for the safety and survival of women as a physical gender.  It was a necessary burial of our dearest treasures, much like the Tibetan monks destroyed their precious ancient manuscripts to keep them out of the hands of the Chinese.  It was what we had to do.  No regrets.  The world was not a safe place for the daily existence of the feminine powers.

In addition, men as a physical gender buried their inner feminine.  This can be seen even in modern times (although it is indeed shifting), where a man who is not physically strong or acts dominant is labeled as ‘weak” or “girly”.  It has not been safe for men, either, to be softer, embracing, intuitive, sensual, accepting and wise from a deep inner sense.  Can you imagine what the world will be like when the men claim and embody there inner feminine selves?  WOW.  Those are some men I want to get to know!  I am seeing this mature feminine as well as masculine emergence in my own beloved husband; it makes him courageous and warrior-like when needed, yet intuitive, discerning, deeply wise, willing to allow instead of push, and a sweet and tender lover.  Whoo baby!

Time has marched on, and humanity has evolved, and we, having fully explored the dynamics of the wounded or immature masculine in ourselves and with each other, are letting go of old concepts of the feminine and making room for larger ideas about the feminine.  We are allowing the blunt edge of dominance and suppression of the feminine (both inner and outer) to fall away under the brilliant light of clarity.  And this is occurring in each one of us in our own perfect timing.

It was in 1993 that Marianne Williamson wrote in her book A Woman’s Worth: “There is a collective force rising up on the earth today, an energy of the reborn feminine … She remembers our function on earth … This is a time of monumental shift, from the male dominance of human consciousness back to a balanced relationship between masculine and feminine. The Goddess archetype doesn’t replace God; she merely keeps him company. She expresses his feminine face.”

At that time, the way I read this statement was that men were going down in flames and women were going to grab their fair share of the power.  I was mad as hell and thinking and acting from my own inner wounded, immature masculine and feminine aspects.  My wounded feminine identified strongly with being a victim, and my wounded masculine was how I survived and made my way in the world.  I thought the only way the women would ever be treated with respect again was if we acted like the men who suppressed us.

But over the years, as I grew and softened and became more myself, I began to understand the feminine ways as powerful in and of themselves.  I began to open that cache of treasure that was buried in my psyche underneath all those years of heaviness.  I found an endless, boundless resource of love.  I understood that a truly healed, mature masculine and a truly healed, mature feminine made the perfect compliment to each other.  In fact, they were beautiful together.

It is interesting to note that if we dig into the story of humanity’s past, there are many, many examples of very strong and powerful women; queens, warriors and goddesses whose names didn’t make it to the “his-story” books.  It was a revelation to me to learn about and find that the strength of the feminine was even around in the physical form of actual women and that we just weren’t taught about it.  Let these few names of strong women (who actually existed-this is not a complete list) reverberate in your mind and heart:

Isis (Egyptian Goddess of All of Creation)

Mawu (African Goddess of the Moon)

Songi (African Protectress of the Bantu)

Nukwan (Chinese Goddess)

Danu (Irish Goddess and Protector)

Breo Saighead (Irish Goddess)

Ix Chel (Mayan Goddess of the Moon, Healing and Childbirth)

Xbaquiyalo (Mayan Goddess)

Coatlicue (Aztec Creator Goddess)

Xochiquetzal (Aztec Goddess of music, dance and love and Patroness of women’s sacred sexuality)

Queen KuBaba (Sumerian leader of war of independence)

Trung Trac and Trung Nhi (Vietnamese Sister Queens led battle against the invading Chinese)

Boudicca (Queen of Iceni, a Celtic tribe in ancient Britain, who led rebel armies against the Romans in Britain)

Hatshepsut (Egyptian, declared herself “Pharoah” rather than Queen)

Wu Zetian (Chinese, declared herself “Emperor” rather than Empress)

And these are just a scant handful of the women whose feminine strength propelled them forward into a larger vision.  Even now, consensual reality has some belief that women today are in a state of weakness and subjugation, but there are women (and men who are healing and strengthening their inner feminine) in our modern world who are changing reality every day with their strength and vision.  It is the media and the immature collective consciousness that devote their energies to the message that “feminine equals Paris Hilton”.  You have a choice about whether to buy into that message.

“Men are not the enemy, but the fellow victims. The real enemy is women’s denigration of themselves.”

- Betty Friedan

The more we step up and claim the inner feminine in ourselves, the more she shows up in our lives.  The feminine has many aspects, some of which we recognize as docility, forgiveness, and surrender, such as we see in the Christianized Mother Mary figure.  But these traits are only a small fraction of the totality of the Sacred Feminine.  She is ALL, and she is not being fully expressed until we embrace ALL of her.  It is wise to be alert to judgments and beliefs about what it means to be feminine or masculine.  Qualities we typically associate with the masculine, such as courage, ferocity, strength, and intelligence, as well as the “softer” sides of those such as passion, sensuality, deep wisdom and intuition, are all part of the Sacred Feminine as well.  In actuality, all qualities are universal, found in both masculine and feminine essences, but the ways of accessing and expressing these qualities is different in the masculine and feminine.

 

“Darkness precedes light and she is Mother”

Inscription in the altar of the Salerno Cathedral in Italy.

We see evidence in the collective psyche of the awareness of the “darker” aspects of feminine power in the global fascination with and re-emergence of the Black Madonna (be sure to look that up if you don’t know anything about these fabulous images of the pre-Christianized Sacred Feminine.)  In the wonderful book, The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd, the presence of the Black Madonna is central to the story of personal enlightenment and reclaiming of power for a young girl.  In the story, three symbols of feminine power constellate throughout: the Fist, a representation of feminine authority, voice and autonomy, fierce outrage at injustice, dignity, substance, being both level and wild, with an ability to shake things up, the Heart, a representation of profound connection to one another, the big, wide lap of the great mother, a lap so big there’s room for everybody, inclusiveness, nurturing, unity, compassion for what is lost or undervalued and left out, refuge, and deep and beautiful wisdom, and the Moon- Madonnas have been marked with moons since the origin of humanity, and is a representation of cycles, women, women’s cycles, tides, oceans, earth, behavior of animals, fecundity of plants, the body, the rhythms of death and life, fertility, creativity, earth’s aliveness and holiness.  Certainly in these three symbols we see examples of the diversity that is represented in the feminine!  In terms of the collective awareness of the diversity of the feminine, I have a theory that Oprah Winfrey is personification of the ancient symbol of the Black Madonna.  Think of how she aids others in getting their message out, giving them permission and a platform from which to speak.  Think of how she creatively successful she is, but especially in the ways that the masculine world considers successful (money, power, resources).  And yet she has not appeared to lose other aspects of the feminine in her rise to fame.

 “The way to true and creative life is thru the dark feminine.”

-Carl Jung

 When I set an intention to fully claim my feminine power on Winter Solstice of 2006, I set in motion a process in which she has come forward in her totality, and it is blissful and amazing to feel the power coursing through my veins.  In reclaiming my feminine power, I also recognized that I am the one who has been thinking like a victim and I chose to cease that habit immediately.  When I cease to see myself as a victim, I stop playing that role with others in my outer world, even with men and women who may prefer to see me that way. When I stop buying into that drama, I force everyone I interact with to stop, too, even if for a moment.  It is like throwing a wrench in a well-oiled machine…the machine has to stop until the wrench is removed.  And if enough wrenches are thrown in, eventually the machine doesn’t work anymore.  It has to be adapted to the new situation.

“You take your life in your own hands, and what happens? A terrible thing: no one to blame.”

- Erica Jong

      My theory is that, as humanity has evolved, we have been moving through developmental stages, just like a baby does.  In the beginning, humanity as a whole was exploring pretty basic animal nature…a denser vibration of physical life.  As we learned and grew, we explored a stone-age era of matriarchal worship….perhaps women were seen as all powerful because we were able to give birth.  Then, we moved into a developmental stage where we grew our intellect and reason and learned ways of controlling nature to guarantee our survival.  There was a time when there was a balance of reverence for women and men, a sense of some stasis and equality.  Then, in the middle ages, we went deep into the age of Christianity and colonialism, defiling woman as evil and the downfall of man, as well as the earth as the mother/planet upon which we all depended for our lives.  This out-of- balance approach took us crashing headlong into the industrial age, in which we developed commercialism and the credo that the one with the most toys (money, power, resources) wins. It was during this time that we explored the worship of the male aspect. 

The anger we see today in our world, in both women and men, could be construed as a deep grief and rage at the seeming lack of presence of the feminine on the planet.  We have fully explored the masculine aspects of power…..wounded as that masculine may be.  As a collective, humanity has explored colonialism, industrialism, over-use of resources and the plundering of the planet, power-over rather than power-with, brute force instead of cooperation, and the giving away of inner power to outer sources.  We have explored victimization, blame, guilt, sexuality as degenerate and dirty, shame, doing what others want us to, and belief in lack and therefore competition to get what we want.  

But this is an era which is dying….we are still seeing the last throes of this dynamic as it senses it’s imminent departure, but make no mistake, it is on its way out.  And now we are coming into an era of balance again, but a little higher on the vibrational scale; we will explore faces of the feminine and masculine that we have not seen before in human existence.  Each time we moved up the ladder of vibration, we explored a different aspect of the masculine/feminine dynamic.   We are see-sawing our way up the vibrational scale, ultimately to a perfect union of the highest aspects of each the Sacred Feminine and Sacred Masculine, the marriage of the Divine Queen and King.

I had an experience just the other day that played this out for me.  I called on the strength and depth of my inner feminine, and it felt so satisfying, like taking a long drink of sweet water after being thirsty for a long, long time.  As I enjoyed feeling the immense feminine in me, I saw in my mind a scene of the wild, fierce and powerful feminine aspect personified by a naked woman with long, wild dark hair.  Her presence was strong, primitive, shamanic, almost animal-like, yet very empathetic and discerning.  She stood before a pile of bones heaped in a corner, and I knew immediately that the pile of bones were my inner broken masculine.  She stood over the bones, breathing life into them and singing to them, gathering them into her strong arms.  As she breathed and sang and rocked the bones, flesh began to grow onto them.  Over a few minutes, the bones had become a beautiful man with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes.  She put the man down, where he stood on his own two feet, and looked at her with an illumined face.  As I watched, his beautiful body became clothed in the finest splendor, and a crown of gold lay atop his head.  His face shone with love and understanding as he beamed at her, my inner feminine.  And I knew that they were in love beyond any limits.  She had, by coming forward in her greatest strength and power, held the space for healing and embraced my masculine’s brokenness, and therefore brought forth her equal.  He was already there, but a pile of bones, and through her love and desire and feminine ways of knowing, she had opened her arms and encouraged him to come into himself.  The missing complete man was made whole by the love, strength, compassion and power of the woman who desired her truest partner.  And now the inner feminine and the inner masculine could join together in ecstatic holy union.  The two were again one.

As this scene played out, I felt energetic shifts in my body and feelings swirling around.  Breathless, I watched the glorious masculine come into the flesh and meet the feminine’s gaze, and I cried with recognition and joy.  I know this beautiful man!  I aspire to be him, just as I aspire to be the highest aspects of my feminine self!  As they embraced each other and began a long eon of passionate tangling, I wept with relief that my inner selves were indeed making love and becoming whole.  It was remarkable.  

Here is what I know; what we are ready to allow into our consciousness, appears.  What we are ready to put our focus on suddenly makes sense to us and we begin to see more of it.  What we are ready to embrace in ourselves, we are ready to embrace in the outer world.

The feminine has always been here, has never truly “gone away”….there is no “return”, but rather a remembrance and recognition of the strength of the feminine and its grace and its wisdom and it’s all-encompassing acceptance and it’s ways of power and knowing.  SHE IS RIGHT HERE and has been all along.  There is no tragic loss of the feminine….no departure or abandonment….it is just us humans, going though our growth process, who lost our awareness of her.  Our awareness of the presence of the feminine is what went underground; our conscious knowing of ourselves is what went underground, not the feminine itself.  And we are ready to internally embrace her again.   

 

“When they are equally present, all is calm.  When one is outweighed by the other, there is confusion and disarray.”

-central tenet of Taoism

 

 “He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying.”   Friedrich Nietzsche  

 

Like most babies, I learned how to walk the first time by the age of 11 months.  I crawled successfully at 8 months (seems a little late, but I’ve always been on my own timing), pulled up to standing at 8 ½ months, then the world was my oyster before one year old.

 

I say that I learned to walk the first time by 11 months because I am learning to walk a second time at the age of 44 years.  Yep, you read right; after 44 years on this earth, this girl is learning how to walk again.

 

Due to a violent and (pretty gross) compound fracture and severe dislocation of my right ankle in February, I experienced surgery, metal plates and screws, and 8 weeks of weightlessness; for me, a new meaning to the word “stillness”, and the sudden and complete absence of forward motion in my life.

 

Well, not entirely; the movement that I have been experiencing since my injury has been on the inside, and lots of it.  What I’m noticing is that the movement on the outer world can sometimes be a distraction from the movement in the inner world.  I discovered that I sometimes used physical movement to help me run from feelings that I didn’t want to feel.  Feeling powerless or afraid?  Go for a run or a bike ride.  Feeling angry?  Go clean something.  Feeling anything uncomfortable?  Go MOVE, do anything, but don’t sit still or else it might catch up with me.

 

I’m exaggerating a bit here; for the last 10 years, I have been working consciously on myself to wake up, and much of that has been about getting more still and paying attention to my feelings.  In my house, I am the one who is most vocal about her feelings, and the one who is most actively reflecting on what I am feeling.  But I live with three guys (one husband and two sons) and a cat.  Well, okay….maybe the cat wins the most vocal about how she feels award…

 

But all the work I’ve done had taken me only so far; then my ankle met with a series of metal stairs on a rainy day in California, and my knowing of being still so I could feel my feelings got a whole lot deeper.  That’s how it works in process, doesn’t it?  We go so far with something, then find stasis and equilibrium, then a new expansion experience is introduced and we get to grow again (oh goody!)

 

I am happy to say that I chose to go for it with this experience; I know that when things happen, there is the opportunity to relate to it as a victim or as a choice maker.  I wanted to harvest all of the AHAs and lessons and insights that I could from this experience.  I sure never want it to happen again!  And I haven’t been disappointed; the amazing healing and awarenesses have been profound and bountiful during my weeks of convalescence.  I can look back on it with just a little perspective now, and it feels like a precious gift to be allowed to be so vulnerable. 

 

I was given the okay to bear weight on April 27, “letting pain be my guide”.  I took off my “Darth Boot” (my affectionate name for my big, black, kick-ass removable cast) and started learning to walk with the aid of my crutches.  Within a couple of days, I noticed that I started to forget where I left them; that’s a good sign!  By the end of that week, I was hobbling around without any help from my rickety metal friends.

 

But the hobbling is a little troublesome; I look like Frankenstein, arms flailing out in my attempt to keep balance.  All that’s missing is the metal bolts in my neck and the mantra, “FIRE BAD!”  The scars are not pretty, my ankle gets swollen quickly when I am up on it, and it does hurt a bit when I come down on it.  But it’s a good pain, or so I think.  It is the pain of learning to use something in a new way.

 

Amongst my reflections and ruminations during this time of forced stillness, I have wondered if I was walking in a way that was not good for me.  Maybe not the physical way I walked, but from a symbolic standpoint, where was I leading myself?  How was I getting there?  Was I being forceful or was I being discerning?  Was I afraid of moving forward, or was I walking in balance and ease? 

 

And now that I have the opportunity to walk again, I also have the opportunity to learn to walk in a different way, perhaps a way that serves me and the world community better.  How do I want to walk in this world?  Confidently, in balance, knowing that I am supported…at ease in my own power, looking forward to my future, knowing I am part of this world and that I have something to offer…with grace, strength, discernment, wisdom, and love. 

 

I can’t help but reflect on what it must have been like to learn to walk the first time; I can’t remember, although I wish I could.  What would it feel like to feel the inner impulse to move, to get up on one’s feet and take a first step forward?  What kind of innate trust is there in all children as they fly through their developmental stages?  What kind of crazy motor drives the impulse to get off your knees and start walking?!  How amazing is it that we go from being born helpless to moving around at light speed in under a year’s time?  I seriously doubt that we could handle that kind of rapid growth as adults…if I picture me trying to assimilate so many changes in one year as a new baby does, I think I would explode!

 

I say this because I am a grown woman, in her mid forties, and I have learned to be afraid.  Life has taught me about people and things and events that hurt, and that I must be protective and watchful and wary, lest something bad happen to me.  Even when I am all of those things, sometimes bad things still happen.  That innate trust we are born with can slowly erode over time, to the point that it seems quite unbelievable we ever possessed this gift.

 

However, I am hopeful.  When I put my injured foot to the floor, I am in essence saying, “I trust that this leg will hold me up”.  When I choose to engage my body with the earth by walking, I am saying I WANT to trust again.  I WANT to be part of the earth walk again, I WANT to move and run and dance and play.   

 

As I learn to put my foot down and do the careful dance of rolling my heel and pushing off with my toes, I wonder what kind of a little girl I was when I took that first step.  Was it a joyful and exciting adventure?  Was it a feeling of complete trust and knowing that I was supported?  Can I harness that level of trust again as I learn to walk this time?  I pray that I can.   

About two weeks ago, the sun shone through after several days of rain.  The soft sea air buoyed us as we left the RV for a bike ride, the first in several days.  The boys and I had been stir crazy with the weather, and the RV gets tight in the best of times.  Our bike ride took us to the Pismo State Park, right on the coast; as we rode the monarch butterflies, which winter over here due to the mild climate, flitted across our paths, their wings infused with the light of the sun. 

I will remember this joyous bike ride with my boys for a long time, as it will be my last for several months. 

We returned to the RV to get more school work done, and as the boys worked, Peter said he was going on a ride.  I asked if I could go, too….more rather than less exercise is a good rule for me.  He welcomed me; I threw my shoes on and, a smile on my face, stepped out the door, placing my left foot on the top outer step of the RV.

Apparently, I put my heel down on the edge of what turned out to be a sandy step…before I knew what happened, I was flying.  I felt pain, but more shock of having fallen down the stairs, as I am not one who hurts myself much.  When I got to the bottom, I felt that something was wrong; besides the heart pounding from the surprise, I looked down and saw that my right foot was turned the wrong way, and the end of my tibia, the strong inner leg bone that we see as our shin, poking unnaturally through the left side of my ankle. 

I will spare you the details of my strange calm as I gave orders to my family members, the transfer to the hospital ER, the relocation of the ankle and the immediate surgery, all of which I am in the process of writing in great detail as therapeutic work.  More of note is the inner process that has been accelerated due to the whirlwind destruction of my bodily innocence and the surrender required to allow other people to help you when you are accustomed to surviving on your own. 

I have always been a very strong and healthy person, having very few accidental injuries in my life, relegated to the occasional burn or cut. Even in my rash of car accidents in my barely-present early twenties, I walked away without even a bruise.  Never having broken a bone or been to the hospital except for birthing Jess and a small cut that required stitches when I was 11, this accident ‘broke’ my vision of myself as invulnerable.  The healing at physical, emotional, mental and spiritual levels that is unfolding inside me through this event is profound.  To me, that’s the juicy stuff; to me, this is where the magic is.

My rigidity in my life has held me up when there was no one else to do it; my parents were actively abusive alcoholics, and there was no safe place for me to be vulnerable.  I had to get tough to make it through my childhood, and I took that toughness with me into my growing life, perceiving through my filters of experience that the world was not a safe place.  Of course, as a result of that filter being in place, I helped create more of that belief, which reinforced my toughness.  Over time, my heart has closed except to those who have proven that I can trust them.  My tests, although unconscious, are rigorous and thorough…my tests weed out those who might make a passing grade from the die-hards.  Only those who truly and passionately love me unconditionally make it through my inner gauntlet.  I am civil to the others, but they will never know the real me, as I don’t trust them to treat me with respect and safety.

And I put myself on the line in these tests; I share myself and make myself vulnerable, then watch what they do with what I have given to them.  Some show me their trustworthiness right away by not being able to hear what I am sharing, or rejecting it outright.  Others are a little “craftier”…they listen and appear to treat my sharing with tenderness and care, but later use it against me.  I give the gift of myself to those who do not deserve my trust to prove to myself that they aren’t trustworthy.  It is a back-asswards pattern of behavior learned when a child cannot trust the two people she depends on to keep her safe in the world.  This event has brought this pattern into clear light, for which I am grateful. 

I now have a bionic ankle, complete with “golden” plate and six “golden” screws (the golden is in my mental picture so that I can accept and make friends with the foreign objects in my body).  I must remain “no weight bearing” for 8 weeks, at which point I will begin to learn to walk again.  In the mean time, I hobble around on crutches and spend a lot of time with my foot up on the couch.  Well, I was complaining about not finding the time to write…now I am writing more than ever.  The insights are coming so thick and fast I can scarcely write them all down. 

And so, in moments of extreme grace and clarity, I am actually grateful that this has happened.  Oh, I have my moments of feeling like a victim, feeling sorry for myself, feeling angry and sad….but all of those are indications of a deeper healing in myself that can occur, if I am just willing to follow the pointers to the place inside where acceptance and insight abound.   

Thank you, my right ankle, for making this sacrifice in service to the whole of me, my inner and outer community.  Like our indigenous ancestors did in holy ceremony, you offered flesh to show how willing you were to put yourself on the line in order for healing to occur on the larger level.  I humbly choose to make the most of this offering!