Posts Tagged ‘family’

The response I’ve received since publishing my last entry about my desire to have “my own room” has been so interesting, I felt it merited a little more airtime.  Some have written to accuse my husband of not wanting to share power (sorry I told on you in my blog, honey!), others have responded that they feel this same urge but won’t allow themselves to have it, and most others just say, don’t worry, it’s coming.  Mostly, my own response is what is of note.

The night of the day of the aforementioned conversation, Pete and I talked again.  This time, I experienced him more receptive to my desire.  He listened attentively to my feelings, and reflected them back to me.  No negation, instead good listening, which made me feel safer to share what was happening with me.  We dealt with some real things and got to common ground.  He and I are on the same page, which is a relief to me.  SO, now that the immediate “perceived obstacle” is removed, what is really going on?

I did not ever have my own room, except maybe for the couple of years before my sister was born (and I’m not even sure about that).  Not whining, just sayin’.  When I moved to college, I had a shared dorm room.  It was not until I was a junior and moved into a duplex at age 20 that I had a room of my own, and began to taste what it was like to be master of one’s own space.  Of course, I met Peter when I was 21, and have not had my own room since then.

Now what I want is my own room, but not a bedroom…..what I want is a room that is MINE in which I can do what I WANT without being interrupted or distracted or have to move somebody else’s stuff.  JUST MINE.  And what I have realized is that I sound like a 3 year old kid!  MINE, MINE, MINE!

Well, I am not going to judge that inner 3 year old, but I am also going to include the perspective of the wise parent inside, who will temper the 3 year old’s insistence with some wisdom.  I am reflecting about why I feel I need an office to do the work I need to do, how I can proceed with that work to the extent that I can (without the office) until it manifests, and finally, what other ways I put things in front of my just getting DOWN TO IT.  This is all worthwhile reflection.

I wrestle with my inner logician, who says, “You are not making enough money to justify the expanse of renting an office.”  Also, “You are a mom and only have the hours between 9 and 2 (when BNO  -Boy Number One-  gets home from school) to do your work; does it really make sense to rent an office that will be empty so much of the day?”  And, “You’re a writer, why can’t you just sit on the couch and write there?”  And so many other perfectly sound reasons not to pursue this desire to have my own space.  Whew, all of this inner wrestling makes me tired. 

But there is a wiser voice, too, that is NOT defined by logic, but adds to logic in a feeling sense….it says that it is good and right to begin to bring this into my life because my timing is right.  It says there is nothing wrong with indulging this desire, and that it is in fact good for me to do so.  It says that I am freeing up and emerging in ways that will support the expenses and my desire to also benefit the financial well-being of my family.  I am also told it is indeed part of the universe’s desire for me, and that I will be supported.

So, I will balance the needs of my inner logician with the urging from my spirit to have the space in which to develop the things I will offer this world.  In the mean time, I will move forward and get some things done, even if my outer environment is not exactly the way I want it.  I will move forward and trust……It’s a-gonna happen.

Quoted directly with permission from http://tothevillagesquare.org/blog

In the book, Abraham by Bruce Feiler, he tells the story of an American who after winning fourteen thousand dollars on Wheel of Fortune, decided to come to Israel for a year. Fifteen years later he hadn’t left. He tells a story to answer why:

“Two brothers live on either side of a hill. One is wealthy and has no family; the other has a large family but limited wealth. The rich brother decides one night that he is blessed with goods and, taking a sack of grain from his silo, carries it to the silo of his brother. The other brother decides that he is blessed with many children, and since his brother should at least have wealth, he takes a sack of grain from his silo and carries it to that of his brother. Each night they go through this process, and every morning each brother is astounded that he has the same amount of grain as the day before. Finally one night they meet at the top of the hill and realize what’s been happening. They embrace and kiss each other.

And at that moment a heavenly voice declares, “This is the place where I can build my house on earth.”

“That story is shared by all three religions,” David said. “And our tradition says that this is that hill, long before the Temple, long before Abraham. And the point of the story is that this degree of brotherly love is necessary before God can be manifest in the world.”

…This is not only the Spot where it is possible to connect with God, it’s the spot where you can connect with God only if you understand what it means to connect with one another.

“The relationship between a person and another human being is what creates and allows for a relationship with God. If you’re not capable of living with each other and getting along with each other, than you’re not capable of having a relationhip with God.” He gestured up at the Wall, the Dome, the churches.

Then he turned back to me. “So the question is not whether God can bring peace into the world. The question is: Can we?”

January 9, 2009

Notes as we are changing….

Peter comments this morning that he feels himself remembering what he has always known…that he is a part of the All That Is.  I see him feeling and looking similar to when I first met him…soft, open, and connected.  It is thrilling to see this!

We are talking about how we have chosen to do the awakening process; we are reading the Dan Millman books (Way of the Peaceful Warrior) and I am turned off by the completely upside down-ness of his life as he learns to be different.  It is like the years spent running off to find oneself and people being left hurt in its wake.  We elected to do it differently.

Many folks do the inner work after they have had their children…we are doing it before and DURING raising our children.  We have elected to live a fully 3-D life while doing our spiritual work.  This makes us somewhat different than a lot of people.

The fact that we are mixed up mashed up with our kids and that there are so many demands in our 3-D life is part of the sacred juggling act that all of us face.  If we are here in 3-d, it is because we are meant to be here….and to bring all parts of ourselves into the grounding of physical life.  I am not suggesting that everyone tackle inner spiritual work while having babies and jobs and PTO presidencies and such as we did; but I do think it is important to share this model so others can examine whether it is something they are waiting for permission to do in their own lives. 

This might be the reason to write the book about our family journey.

I wrote this journal entry in 2003, right before my family’s life changed drastically.  It felt appropriate to share it here and now.

Form Follows Function

A journal entry by Licia Berry

www.liciaberry.com

8-03

Who am I?  God, please tell me.  No, I mean, who am I REALLY.  I have allowed myself to be defined by others for much of my life.  Now I need to find the truth within myself.  I need to know what I am supposed to be doing with my life.  I need to narrow it down because I have signed on for too much that doesn’t feel like the right fit!

Since I was a little kid, I saw myself living in an old white farmhouse on a quiet farm or land, growing my family’s food, home schooling my children, creating a family business, and married to my one Beloved.  Leading a simple life together as a family. We would have all that we needed because we were together.  My picture of this was so solid as a little girl.  It brought me solace when I felt how chaotic and off-balance my actual childhood home was.  This picture felt so peaceful, so heart-centered, like the priorities were straight.   It gave me comfort that someday I would create this picture.

What happened?  I left home, graduated from university with honors and became a sought-after art teacher in the Atlanta school system.  It was joyous to witness children in their process of creative discovery.  I taught for almost 5 years and loved it, but became disillusioned with “the system” and the politics involved in being what I considered to be a responsible educator.  I began the long process of recovery for incest.  My husband and I moved to Tucson, Arizona to change our lives.  There I was a teacher to developmentally disabled children and adults.  It was somewhat satisfying, but a step removed from my beloved creative process.  I had naturally ruled out teaching school because I was burned out by my experience in Atlanta.  After a couple of years, I was promoted to evaluate adult trainers of the same population I had worked with.  Another two steps removed from my early love, this time from children, and from teaching.  I became a dry expert on how to do a job well.  I couldn’t stand myself.  When I moved to Asheville I wanted to start all over again and go back to my initial vision.  My then 3 year old son and I spent delightful time together awaiting the birth of my second son.  After being in Asheville for one year, tragedy struck and I jumped into working in the non-profit sector.  How many steps removed from my heart was I now?  I’ve lost count.

I have made some strides back towards my heart-centered picture of childhood, especially since the wake-up call of 9-11.  I have a healing practice that allows me to connect with and teach others as well as work on my own healing.  I write, make art and play and compose music.  I have maintained a stubborn conviction to buy and grow organic food.  I’ve canned my crops, made candles and soap, sewn clothes, dowsed earth energies and been trained for years in my early healing interests.

I continue to be informed by my childhood picture, with compromises.  I actually do live in an old white farmhouse on a couple of acres, but it is in city limits on a busy road.  I work with my creativity in my healing practice and my writing, but apart from my family.  I grow organic vegetables and fruit, but haven’t had time lately to devote proper attention to the garden.  I send my children to the best public school in Asheville, but I still feel a gnawing in my belly when I drop them off for the day.  I love my husband dearly, but we don’t have much time or energy for each other at the end of each day.  My heart hurts.  Something is wrong.

I have wondered in the past year as I have felt a growing anxiety what was wrong with me.  I have such a blessed life!   Who am I to complain or to feel that something is missing?   As the summer began, I wondered if I was on the edge of nervous breakdown, or perhaps my midlife crisis (a little early, I hope?)  The vague sense of unease that has been growing in me for years has gotten to the point that I can’t ignore it.  I went on a 7500 miles month-long odyssey in July to the southwest and California with my children in hopes that the change of environment would give me a little perspective.  We saw many places and people and had many adventures.  SO what did the solo-pioneering mom and her two fabulous sons find out on this epic journey?   That the problem is I’m living someone else’s life.

Whose life am I living?  Ask the media.  There is an assumption made on the part of the media/corporate machine that we will trust what is being told to us.  We are fed images and messages of what the perfect family, mother, child, and parent looks like many times a day.  We must be involved in our child’s school to positively affect their learning, we must take our child to a multitude of life enriching classes and activities per week, we must make quality time for our children (in between all those afternoon classes).  We must have a pet, music lessons, and devote time to homework each night.  As a mother, I must be fully available for my children, yet seek time for my own inner balance.  Yoga classes, smoothies, a low-carb diet, and facials will help me regain my inner peace.  But I am also to be fulfilled in my work, fully attentive to my husband and home, keep a cheery attitude and look great while doing it ALL.   How am I supposed to balance all that needs to be balanced?  I think it feels impossible because it is.  I have to make some decisions about what is most important.

If it is true that I am the architect of my life, then where did my design go wrong?  Why the hell did I build this hectic life I’m living?  How often have I said “yes” to something that was not really in the interest of my highest good?  How often have I just gone along with something because other folks wanted me to?  Because I didn’t want to create an inconvenience?  Because I wanted to please others?  How often I have ignored my own inner guidance because it is too risky, too much work to change circumstances, or someone might be unhappy with me?  When it comes to hearing the quiet, wise voice of my inner wisdom when presented with a choice, what’s the difference between “yeah, okay” and “YES, I must ABSOLUTELY do this!”

Sometimes I think I am going crazy; I feel a tension inside as the gulf is widening between the part that I am playing and my inner Self who wants something else from me. Why am I so attached to this part?  Perhaps because there are consequences for relinquishing it.  I was guided last year to step out of my role as PTO President at my children’s school; that in fact it was costing me spiritually.  But did I do it?  Nope, all I could think about was how unhappy folks would be with me if I quit.  I sensed that this guidance was accurate, and felt how miserable I was playing the role, but that wasn’t enough to change my mind.  I would be seen as a quitter; I would make people mad at me; I would be letting folks down.  When I see this, it makes me think that a 3 year old is making these decisions in my life.  An actualized, empowered adult would not worry much about disapproval from others if she were making a decision that felt right to her.  Am I mothering my inner 3 year old?

On a macro scale, we are coming into the Aquarian era.  With this shift, there is huge transformation in the way we fundamentally think about and do things.  It seems that culturally and politically, more and more people are feeling inner stirrings that things just aren’t right as they are.

Am I on the edge of this?  Am I feeling what many others are feeling right now?  We are taught that family and school looks like this, we are trying desperately maintain these dinosaur ways of being, and they don’t work.  We are trying to patch what really needs to be replaced.  Divorce, stress, major life unhappiness happens because folks are so anxious….we feel that something is wrong, but society doesn’t support us changing.

If I decide to follow the soft pointing-of-the-way that my guidance provides, how do I let go of the things I am attached to?  How much will I need to release to change my life?  Is the structure of my life congruent with the architecture principle of “form follows function?”  How might I restructure my life to that it follows my higher function?  For that matter, what is my higher function?  Might I get a clue from the secret whisperings of my heart?  My intention is to find out what my best use is on this planet right now…here it comes…..wait, I can ask the question, but am I really ready for the answer?

My experience tells me that sometimes I must let go of what seems so important so that I can open to the free flow of life energy that will carry me to where I need to go.  May the Highest Good be Served.

Adventuress, by Licia Berry 2006

However, there is an even larger cycle in our lives that has become apparent.  Peter shared with me a few days ago his realization that we have come to the end of a 21 year cycle, 3 seven-year chapters, which began when I made the choice to wake up from my slumber and go into recovery work to heal.  This choice changed life utterly for many people.

It was in 1988 when I was 23 years old and Peter and I were about to be married that we were living with his parents at their property in Suwannee GA.  At that time, I became very depressed and wondered why.  It turns out that being in the immersion of Peter’s family invited my old family dynamics to come forward within me.  (Folks that read my writing know that I am an abuse survivor, sexual, emotional, and physical primarily.)  I made a choice to enter therapy to discover why I did not want to be on the earth any longer.  It was a hard decision to confront my beliefs about myself and my biological family at that time, and to turn them upside down and look them over critically to see if they were indeed true.  I’m grateful that I had the strength and insight to choose this path many years before I had my own children.  The desire to break the cycles of abuse and to NOT pass on the illness that was passed on to me was a primary motivator.  However, in the end, it was a decision to honor myself, no matter what hell may come as a result.

Hell did come…when I confronted my father by certified mail, he did not respond at all; nine years later, I called him to have a truth-telling at the top of the mountain because I realized I was stronger and more courageous than he was.  He couldn’t hurt me any more.  When I told my mother, she slurred her words in her usual drunken stupor, and accused me of ”always being warped”, despite my reputation for having the best memory in the family.  After that lesson, I chose not to speak with her unless it was in the early part of the day before she started drinking.  My sister hoped it was “all a misunderstanding”, and shared with my brother the hope that our family could reunite and be happy together despite the years of affairs, drunkenness, unhappiness and divorce, the definition of sheer insanity to me.  It was a rough time for me, the lone truth-teller.  I have been blamed, called names, been seen as “making conflict for conflict’s sake”, and otherwise rejected.  Subject to the projections of my biological family, I had no one except my helping professionals and my beloved husband to feel truly safe with.

Over these 21 years of reclaiming my life, my mind, my body, my spirit and my center, I have gotten clearer and clearer that I am not to blame.  The mantles of shame and projection have become more obvious as others’ issues rather than mine.  I have been less willing to take them on, less willing to carry the burden of other people’s unconsciousness.  The more I have reclaimed myself, the stronger my voice has become, and the more I have attracted others, women in particular, who share or find strength and solace in my story.  It is one of the obvious tenets of an abusive family to keep the secrets….to not tell, to not share the story, to keep it under wraps of darkness.  But the only way the cycle can stop is if we talk about it, regardless of the threats or entreaties to cease.  No, mom, I won’t be quiet….I won’t stop talking.

There is goodness in this…some sweetness after all the years of pain to hear another woman say “Thank you for telling your story, because it gave me permission to tell mine.”  Whatever wisdom I offer has been hard won.

Now, something has happened in these last months within me…some immense shift of knowing, an awareness of my strength, a vision of a light within me like a beacon….it is getting stronger, and I feel I am finally beginning to become what I was meant to become.  What I offer to the world, what I am meant to express, how I am to walk in a way that is in integrity with my soul and spirit…it is coming forward at an ever faster pace.  After all the years in the mud and darkness of putting my pieces back together, suddenly it is time to be Whole.  The process has been nothing short of remarkable, and is speeding up each day, it seems.  It appears to be coinciding with our departure of our quiet sanctuary into a larger world, as well as the outer world’s intense changes as if there is a larger knowing coming to fruition as well.  The work that our family has done these 11 years will be needed in the world.  And the work I have done these last 21 years will also be needed in the world.  When we arrive in Tallahassee, I have a sense that we will need to hit the ground running.

(As a result, I will be creating a new blog attached to my professional website.  My professional writing website as well as services for clients will also be evolving.  Keep an eye out…my sabbatical is over!)

The pendulum has swung…the years of intense devotion to our inner life have been rich and fed our souls; we have drunk at the wellspring of our spirits and been filled to the brim with goodness and wisdom.  New outer life, new expressions, new invitations, new opportunities.  Now it is time to balance the years of inward motion with expression in the outer world, to take what we have learned and live our lives. 

When my beloved family of four began our traveling and inner search for our “family heart” in 2003, I thought it was something new for us.  We had certainly never done anything like what we did before…leaving behind all of society and its demands and obligations, a completely selfish and enclosed journey into our own processes, and permission to allow that to unfold on its own time, despite pressures from the outside world to interrupt or end it.  It was a remarkable period of years, to be sure. 

Lately as the old world seems to be falling apart and our own family has been going through intense inner change, I have been reflecting on the cycles that nature brings as well as the more subtle energetic cycles that seem to be universal indications of a larger order. 

I see now how these last few years while my family tried to make Del Norte, Colorado our home were a time of “landing” after being mobile for a few years, of integration into the outer world after being so internal during our RV trip.  It was a perfect place to land, a perfect place to slowly make our way outward from that inner chamber of our family and individual hearts.  It has been quiet, a blissful sanctuary of nature, and a testing ground for trusting our inner guidance, something we worked keenly toward during our family journey. 

Now that we are leaving our beloved San Luis Valley, with its high windswept plains and 14,000 ft. rocky peaks, we are aware that this kind of quiet is not something that we will find in many places.  We are sad to leave behind our sweet 40 acre homestead that we have put so much work into.  We are aware that this place has provided a womb of sorts for our further evolution and expansion into the rest of our lives.

We leave for our new life (and it does feel that way, brand spanking new, almost can see the shiny packaging and big red bow around it!) around the full moon of August, a great time to come to fullness and completion with a phase in one’s life and to honor all that has been.  The timing just happened to work out that way, and I shouldn’t be surprised.  The more I have intended to align with the natural cycles of earth and the universe, the more in tandem my actions have been and the more supported I am by that larger energy wave.

I was reflecting on these years of change, thinking that our family was coming to the end of a 6 year cycle since we left Asheville for the Big Trip when I was corrected by my angelic friends.  They told me that we were actually coming to the end of an 11 year cycle.  Really?  I thought about this, counting backwards from 2009 to 1998, and realized that this was true. 

It was in 1998 that Peter and I had construct shattering experiences in our lives that cracked us open to our larger Selves, what some would call spiritual awareness.  It was that year that we bought our “dream house”, Pete was subsequently released from his position with a mortgage company, and I met my first true spiritual teacher.  It was a year in which we jumped on the fast moving treadmill of spiritual growth.

Ah, now the 11 year cycle comment makes sense.  If I were to reflect on the last 11 years of my life and of my family’s life, we have clearly been on the fast track to our Authentic Selves.  As if a great horn sounded, we were called by our souls to line up, and the universe came together in quick order to support us in so many remarkable experiences and learnings.  It boggles the mind. 

I have heard others talk about 7 year cycles in their lives….perhaps that is true.  But I was reminded by my angelic friends not to make too much of the number eleven, or any number for that matter…what is more pertinent is the essence of this sea change.  What has been accomplished over these 11 years is nothing short of a brand new life.       

Well, more changes to report in the never-ending stream of it our family has seen in the past year!

Since the ankle break forcibly sat me down, I have become a person who is more still and who is becoming more quiet.  I learned LOTS of amazing things during the whole ankle incident (and am still learning, although it seems the insights are slowing down a bit to a steady, manageable flow rather than a torrent).  But what is interesting to me right now is the change that has happened in my family as a result of me not taking energetic center stage.

Each of my fellow Berrys-in-the-patch is stepping up in a new way into their own power.  They all got to see how much I do and how much I manage (read: control) in our lives, even subconsciously.  This shifting of power has been a positive change for all of us.  The burden for me of carrying such a load has been too much, and I have paid the price in some ways in my own creative life.  Peter has stepped up in new ways as a man and caretaker of his family, and that is a miracle and a delight to witness and be part of.  And my two boys are stepping into their own power and knowing, as well.

Part of the miracle of this change is that my family of peacemakers (read: people who don’t always speak up about what they want in the name of not making waves) is now being more real about their feelings.  Honesty has always been a core value for me, but sometimes I don’t say what I feel for fear of creating conflict, getting hurt, or fearing I won’t be believed anyway.  I also bought in to that crazy “spiritual” myth that if I am an evolved person, I should not feel angry, sad, frustrated, miffed or otherwise less than blissful, and that if I did, that meant there was something wrong with ME, not that a boundary had been crossed that was my job to defend…that’s another story for later. 

My family is like this, too, but fortunately are relearning this pattern.  In the name of this occurring, my Beloved husband shared a deep truth that he had been withholding for fear of the very things I’ve mentioned above.  It all happened one Friday when he got home from a brutal work week (he is working extra hard in his business to make our income and having a rough go in this economy); he was just exhausted and beaten.  We had been trying to figure out how we were going to manifest a move to California with the financial difficulties we are having, as well as California going through a really crazy time right now.  I offered to massage his neck and shoulders, where he holds tension.  As I worked on him, he softened under my touch, and then, out f the blue, he said in a small voice, “If it were just me, I would live on the gulf coast.” 

Something opened up in the energy field between us…and I felt a sensation of being “breathed” (channeling sometimes feels this way), and heard come out of MY mouth, “If you deal with your issues about X, I will follow you to TALLAHASSEE.”  As soon as I said it, my eyes got big, and Peter turned around, and his eyes were big, too.  We looked at each other and felt our energy expanding from the inside and getting bigger.  It felt GOOD. 

We sat with this, talking amongst the two of us for weeks, not wanting to say anything to the kids (or anyone else) due to the number of times we have changed course with this whole moving thing.  We finally felt sure enough that we were on to something because of how genuinely good we felt, and we told the kids,  To our great surprise, they were ecstatic, and shared that they had wanted to go to Florida to live, but thought we would never go there again.  Ah.  The truth finally outs.   

So, we went for two weeks, staying at no cost in a friend’s house.  We fell in love with Tally; it has all the things we are looking for in a place to live, is even better for us as a family than the lovely central coast of California, is half the cost to live…the list goes on.  We plan to move in August in time to get the kids in school.

No, we haven’t sold either of our properties in Colorado yet (see here to check them out  http://www.berrytrip.us/Sanctuary.htm and http://www.670grande.com/)

No, it is not logical, especially at this time of old systems break-down, to move across the country and take on more expense.  But it is a mental health issue at this point.  As much as we have loved the land and some of the people where we have lived the last three years, we MUST move on.  There is no other option. 

So, I ask for your prayers and cheers and encouragement….at the hardest and most uncertain of times, we are choosing to do what is right for our family regardless of what it looks like to others (this is getting to be a familiar pattern!)  We are running into the arms of a new life, new community, new soul family, and a new opportunity for goodness in our lives. 

 “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.   

To Carry-to take, to bear, to hold, to bring, to lug, to transmit, to transport, to convey, to transfer, to move, to pass on, to conduct, to relay, to contain, to include, to involve, to store, to supply, to keep (from the English Thesaurus)

As a result of my injury, my sweet family is feeling some pretty big adjustments.  The tasks that I usually have done in daily life towards maintenance of our family and our home are now meted out amongst the remaining three family members that can walk and carry things at the same time!

I am halfway through my 8 weeks of no-weight-bearing, and get around quite well on crutches, holding the right ankle above the ground and depending on my left to move me forward.  I have gotten good at being Hop Along Cassidy out of necessity!  But when you are holding yourself up with crutches and have a somewhat unstable balancing act going on, it isn’t possible to carry anything in your hands.  Having that possibility now removed, I never realized how much carrying I was doing!    

This has inspired in me a desire to examine the concept of carrying.

All moms know about carrying….we carry our babies in our bodies and in our arms and on our hips….we carry the food from the fridge to the sink and to the stove, we carry the groceries from the store to the checkout line to the car to the kitchen,….we carry our kids to school and carry their coats, their homework, their lunches…we carry our laundry to and from the washroom and then carry folded piles to the dresser drawers….we carry information from one place to another…we carry the intention of well-being for our families and our communities and our earth….we carry the well-being of our loved ones in our hearts, and we (sometimes to our detriment) carry the burdens of others simply because we care about them. 

I know that in my experience of being a woman and a mother that I see the feminine as a vessel, and that vessels are great for carrying and holding things.  Think in terms of the clay pots hand crafted by our ancient women ancestors, in a search for something to hold water and to cook in.  Think in terms of the female body’s amazing capacity to grow and nurture and carry a child within the vessel of the womb, and our arms as a vessel to cradle the baby while nursing and to rock the child to sleep.  I think in terms of the universe as a giant womb in which All Creation is held and carried.  Nothing can exist unless there is a space in which to exist, right?

I’m not suggesting that the masculine does not carry its share of things; of course it does.  This exploration is not a discourse on women or men being “better” than the other, or an argument about the roles that each should play; that seems ridiculous and a waste of time to me. 

But the concept and experience of carrying itself seems to me to originate in a feminine principle of being a holder of space, a vessel within which creation can occur.  Is this why the female of species have tended to be the carriers of home, hearth and procreation since the beginning of physical life on this planet?

I consider myself to be a feminist to the degree that I believe in equal opportunity for all regardless of gender.  If a woman wants in her heart to go for it and succeed in business and career, I say it is a free will universe and she has every right to do that.  Certainly, I feel there should not be any human-made constraints to limit her in her desire.  I am a strong woman myself, and in my early years achieved a 5 year university degree and went into the professional realm because I wanted to work and make my mark on the world. 

But as I became a mother, my sense of self has changed (and continues to!)  I saw that it wasn’t possible for there to be equal opportunity for my husband to carry our babies, nor to breastfeed them once they were born.  It was my unique role to do that due to my design.  It was his unique role to provide for us, to keep us safe and protected with a house and healthy food to eat so that I could tend to the raising of our children.  Home and hearth suddenly became very important to me.  I found myself gardening organically, canning vegetables, learning to make candles and soap, learning herbs and homeopathy and other non-invasive health modalities, learning how to heal with my hands, learning how to listen to the subtle guidance of my inner wise voice.  Having children cracked my heart open and my spirit came pouring out, looking to make up for lost time.  I began the journey to own myself as a woman and therefore an embodiment of the Sacred Feminine.

Perhaps one of the backlashes of the feminist movement is that some of us have felt we owed our allegiance to those amazing and courageous women who first stood up and said “Enough!” to being treated as second class citizens or even property at the hands of men.  I certainly respect and admire them, and know that their brave work has benefitted me and other women in the world.  I also honor that their inner journey led them to do the work they felt was right to do. 

However, in this physical world, for every action there is a reaction.  There has been a consequence for some of us.  For me, it was my belief that I should be out there conquering the world in business and making my power felt on men’s terms.  Who am I to not follow up on my fore-sisters work and pave the way for women to become “more” in this world?  Wouldn’t I be betraying them if I did not succeed in my professional life and have all of the benefits of making it in a man’s reality?  For me, the consequence of being a child of the feminist movement has been a confusing of who I really am and who I thought I should be. 

To this day I struggle with this inner part of me that pushes me to do, to make money, to have credibility, to gain notoriety, to be recognized as powerful in the man’s world. What is coming ever forward is the acknowledgment and acceptance of my role as a woman, a vessel, a carrier of the subtle mysteries of life.  I want to succeed in the woman’s world.  I want to nurture and create and hold space for my ever-unfolding.  I want to carry and nurture and hold space for the creation and unfolding of my beautiful sons, who will be a serious catch for some special women in this world once they are ready to be set free from my arms!  My true, authentic expression in this consensual reality right now is to BE the feminine.  It is a constant process of coming into greater balance within me.  I choose to give myself permission to BE this that I truly am.

My examination of my slow and steady reclaiming of my Sacred Feminine self as vessel and carrier for creation has been a constant meditation and realization since I broke my right (masculine) ankle.  My masculine side has been put to pasture for awhile, while my (left) feminine side has had to step forward, to be the one who leads.  How beautiful that my earthly body is being used as a metaphor for this balancing act, as I put my left, feminine foot forward in order to move through my day! 

The insights I am receiving are jaw-dropping, at least to me!  For 15 years, I have been reclaiming my Divine Feminine/Great Mother self, letting her move forward and through me, embodying me, letting her work be done in the world.  It is an evolving process, and one that inspires me to watch, to observe, to record the journey, and to be ever thankful for the mysterious and beautiful way that life continues to unfold.

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!