Eldercare Blessings

If we can recognize the grace in the arrival of a new person in our lives, who delivers the care and wisdom that we did not even know we needed, we must also recognize the arrival of tools and devices that have been discovered to improve the quality of our lives.

In my life, there is a guy I adore who has had a long struggle with mobility. My Pop, in case you are new to our story, has lived 81 years with epilepsy. Between the physical repercussions of the condition caused by a high fever when he was a year old, and the medication that simultaneously prevented seizures and leached B12 from his system, he gradually suffered permanent nerve damage which caused neuropathy in both of his legs, with added weakness on his left side which was affected by the history of seizures. He once described them to me as a cycle of tingling numbness that would start at the top of his head and run down the left side of his body, all the way to his toes.

The last year has been particularly challenging due to a series of events, some of which I’m not completely clear. He had some heart tests done a couple of years ago, which resulted in prescriptions for medication to lower his blood pressure and cholesterol. Things seemed fine for a while, until he started falling down. Long story short, his blood pressure was so low that he would black out and fall to the floor.

One of those falls last year led to scar tissue in his urethra, which was finally repaired this summer. The consequences of these falls, the muscle weakness, the difficulty in mobility, are that Pop simply chooses to move less. Less movement, less effort, less risk.

Of course, this causes other issues, and the biggest one for Pop has been pressure sores. The first wound that came to light was while in rehab after the fall that delivered the stricture. Looking at the calendar, I can conclude that this started in October of 2018, and a year later, we have finally found relief.

This tale is not to go into the gory details and drawn-out story of all of our struggles, but to share with others the glorious tools that have come into our lives to ease our burdens and literally, heal our wounds.

So, here’s a list of items that we cannot live without.
1. The Rollator
2. The Transport Chair
3. The Lift Recliner
4. Bathroom Safety Grab Bars
5. The Walk-In Tub
6. IndeeLift
7. Pneumatic Air Pad Medical Cushion
8. Medihoney Wound Gel (though with #7, not necessary – fingers crossed)

Each time we have found a resource, device, or product that has delivered comfort and improvement for Pop’s wellness and a bit of ease to the concerns of his caregivers (my mother and me), we have done a little happy dance.

Dad’s had a progression of walkers over the years, and we love the one he has now, which provides decent stability for a guy who is 6 feet tall and can’t feel his feet or legs. This is our favorite, so far.
Drive-Medical-Nitro-Rollator-Walker

Having a light-weight transport chair has made going to doctor appointments so much easier. The fear of him falling should his knee or ankle drop out is alleviated for us both. It has gotten hard for him to get out of it, because he is tall and the seat is low, but we’ve remedied that problem with a four inch seat cushion, and lessons from Kelly, his physical therapist who comes to the house twice weekly. The one we have is only 12 lbs, and even mom can fold it and lift it into her Prius hatchback.
Drive-Medical-Lightweight-Transport-Wheelchair

The lift recliner was an item we held off on, because Pop wanted to use his own strength for as long as he was able. But now he uses it to rise, and I have to remind him that it is as high as it will go and he can stop pushing the UP button. Ha! We originally ordered one from La-Z-Boy, but once it was home, we didn’t love it. It didn’t elevate his feet enough. So, Mom ordered another one from a catalog, and it works much better – though something apparently came unplugged and the heat and massage feature stopped working. I have not yet figured out that dilemma.

The Bathroom Safety Grab Bars are a MUST! As our muscles lose strength, the act of rising from a seated position can be challenging. Our dear friend Jim, shared his secret weapon with us. A local superhero who installs safety features. We live in Central Florida, and were delighted when Ron from Install Don’t Fall, Inc. came to the house, walked into the bathroom with Pop and asked all of the right questions. When I visited later that day, the bathroom was outfitted with everything my father needed for safe and secure passage throughout the bathroom, where his walker will not easily fit. Here’s Ron’s website:
http://www.installdontfall.com/content/bathroom-safety

The Walk-In Tub is a wonderful thing! It is still not easy for Pop to enter and exit, due to his mobility issues, but with gentle steps and grab bars in all the right places, he can step in, close the door, and let warm water rise to sooth his aching joints. I help him wash his hair, and he can handle the rest with the help of the jets that improve circulation in his legs, a sponge and the liquid soap dispenser that is within his reach. We were not entirely thrilled with the installation, so I’m not going to advertise the company, but we will definitely sing the praises of this investment, which included an upgraded toilet with bidet and cleansing feature.

After our third or fourth call to 911 for a ‘Lift Assist’ when Pop had fallen to the floor and Mom and I could not help him up, I found the IndeeLift through an online search. This tool is amazing. It is as compact as a dolly / hand truck, and can be unplugged and rolled to wherever Pop has fallen (even in the bathroom), and as long as he can scoot back onto the platform, we can press a button to bring his knees to a 90 degree angle, and help him rise to his walker and back into his recliner. I LOVE THIS TOOL!
https://indeelift.com/

The most recent acquisition for our eldercare tool belt has been the Pneumatic Air Pad Medical Cushion by MobiCushion. Mom found it on a search when I was feeling overwhelmed by these wounds that seemed they would never heal. Since Pop has chosen to stay in his recliner, rather than sleeping in his bed, I was prepared to turn his office into a hospital room, with a bed that would allow him to roll onto his side once in a while, maybe even with the air mattress that alternates pressure, like they have in the hospital. Within minutes, Mom had ordered this item and I set it up upon delivery a couple of days later. Let me tell you… the wounds which had been varying degrees of ‘almost healed’ to ‘horrifyingly deep’ over the last year, were COMPLETELY HEALED within a week. Not exaggerating… one week.
Here’s a link to that beauty!
https://smile.amazon.com/dp/B008KH4YXO/ref=smi_www_rco2_go_smi_8217842112?_encoding=UTF8&fbclid=IwAR3NRqPilYgY3Fn_9AYLFrh5O4Uxr8MJqAyyfe7LQ6BTQq5TAAP-IsvLeW4&ie=UTF8

One last item that we’ve learned about in the last year is also for wound care, and it made a miraculous difference in healing time for Pop’s pressure wounds, and I’d imagine it works the same for any injury of open and bloody nature. Medihoney goes right onto a wound and delivers immediate relief and rapid healing. Although Pop’s wounds kept coming back over the last year (before the magic cushion), they would be well-nurtured by this healing salve. And of course, we always knew that honeybees were magickal. (wink: Melissa means honeybee in Greek) Here’s a link to that…
Derma-Sciences-31815-Medihoney-Dressing

Oh! I almost forgot. I am not a fan of the Alexa AI system (having a strong sense of logic and having seen the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey at a young age), but my brother did install a few dots around my parents’ home, and Dad will have Alexa call me if he has fallen and needs assistance. For us, it is easier than paying for a system with a middle man, so to speak. I can be there in less than two minutes, if he calls.

I’m heading over to check on Pop now, but it is my hope that something in this post will deliver hope and peace to another caregiver who is struggling with keeping a loved one safe and well. And to those caregivers, I offer my blessings, my reverence, and my gratitude for the love you offer which makes this difficult journey less fearful for each sacred soul you serve.

Letting it All Fall Away at Autumn Equinox

Yesterday was my sixth workshop in a series of eight that are inspired by the changing seasons of the earth and the cyclical nature of our lives.

I’m making them up as I go, and once I finish one workshop, I start ruminating on the next, hold myself open to receive inspiration, and then wait for things to fall into place.

The title of the workshop was obviously shaped by the activity that moves the season, the changing colors and falling leaves. Twice in my life I received this very message channeled through two different sacred vessels. The first time was in 1999, during a drawing down the moon ritual with my Tribe. The message I received was to “open up and let a piece of you fall away.” The second time was in 2005, when I sat next to a medium at a Broadway show in NYC. The message that finally hit home was, “All you have to do is fall in love with yourself and it will all fall away.” That set me on a path to learn to love someone I had loathed. I had to cut the cords attached to a false belief planted long ago.

One of the themes that recurs in these workshops is that we move through a constant dance of gathering in and letting go. Since one of my Sacred Gardeners had mentioned a resistance to the idea of having love in her life again, after losing her beloved to cancer two years ago… inspiration was found. We knew that her wife would want her to find love again, but that the way she felt was likely connected (corded) to her own vow of loyalty and dedication. So, our task for the Autumn Equinox was clear… to cut some cords and let them all fall away.

The first step, is to identify the cords we carry and to whom or to what they are attached. The following is the meditation I wrote to lead us toward discovery.

MABON CORD MEDITATION

In the tarot, the Death card symbolizes change or transformation. It reminds us that everything changes… one season passes into another, the mother becomes the crone… without the dying leaves, we would fail to witness the rich beauty of autumn, which briefly awes our senses with a multitude of colors and textures before each leaf falls to the ground, transforming into rich fertile ground that will feed the roots of the tree from which they’ve fallen.

Throughout our lives, we come to our own autumn season – when it is time to reflect on the beauty and the darkness of what has gone before… to honor those moments and lessons, to give thanks – even for the darkness (for it has shown us the light), to let them gently fall away, and to prepare for what is yet to come. Remember that once the leaves fall from the tree of life, there is a period of rest, followed by the surprising POP of new growth, so vibrant and stunning, stark contrast from the nakedness of dormancy, that we cannot help but celebrate the utter joy of new life being presented.

Before we are able to witness the freshness of spring, like the trees release the parts of themselves which no longer serve them in original form, we must let go of what we have carried far too long. We must take the time to review each wound, each situation, each trauma within our personal history. Then, we can choose to drop the hurt, the heartbreak, the diagnosis, the disappointment, the false identities, and let them all fall away.

So, lets go deep for a moment and see what we can find. Find your comfort and close your eyes. Breathe in the light of love, and exhale apprehension. Inhale the warmth of love, and release the tension your body is holding. Fill your belly with the divine breath of life, and push out any worries that keep you from being fully present.

Now, picture yourself in the center of a lush forest at the peak of Autumn’s full color. The trees that surround you are diverse and precious, just like each of us. They send their roots deep into Mother Earth, and we follow their lead. The roots of our feet reach into the earth below and glide downward through rich soil, through quenching aquifer, beyond the protective crust and into the molten core. We feel a surge of strength and warmth rise up from this sacred place, as it fills every cell of our bodies with a golden glow of healing light.

From above, the sparkly white light of all that is falls gently upon your crown, and you open to receive the light of wisdom which easily flows into you, spiraling and mingling with the golden glow from below. Your entire being is alight with insight and inspiration. And as the light expands outward from your body, you become aware of ethereal cords that are coming from the trees that surround you, and are attached to your being. How many can you see? Are there many or few? Are they radiant or dull? Are they different colors? To what parts of you are they attached? Are they pulling at your heart, like past betrayals by others, or worse… unfortunate moments when you betrayed yourself? Are they pulling at your sacrum, like false or limiting beliefs about who you really are that were planted by the accusations and expectations of others? Take some time to recognize, acknowledge, and name the people, the experiences, the moments that allowed you to give away your own power, to accept something less than what you deserved, to be harmed by another – physically or emotionally. See the cords that have left you fearful or insecure, feeling unsafe or not good enough. Are they attached to a parent, a teacher, a childhood bully? As you follow the cord from where it is attached to your body, follow the sight of it as it moves through space and into one of the trees that surrounds you. Now, allow that tree to take the shape of the one who is corded to you.

Know that you are completely safe in this sacred space, and that you are well-grounded within the earth and protected by the light of truth. As you look into the eyes of those to whom you are corded, consider what you have learned from this connection. Take a moment to speak aloud what comes to mind. How have you limited yourself through this bond? How have you grown? {long pause}

For each cord you find coming from your body, follow it to a different tree, a different wound, a different situation, a different experience, a different person… and address each one with clarity and confidence. Realize that you have grown stronger with each insight. [long pause]

Now that you have identified what has bound you and held you back from expansion and forward momentum… feel your spirit lifting with a sense of lightness. Turn to each tree standing around you, bearing a cord that moves through you, and thank it for the lessons learned, for the protection each wound may have built, for the kindness you learned to offer others because you didn’t want them to hurt as you did, for the caution you learned which might have prevented future harm. Let each know that you are grateful for these moments which once bound you or propelled you, and through that cord that comes from your being, send the healing light of love and wish them well. And as that light reaches each tree in your circle of cords, which looks something like a web, witness each tree losing its leaves, as they change from shades of green, to red, to yellow, to brown, and allow peace to come as each leaf floats gently to the ground. Know that what goes to ground becomes fertile earth from which you will grow more fully into the divine being you were always meant to be.

So here’s to the coming of autumn… to the beauty, to the sorrow, to the gratitude, to the slumber, to the waking, and to the rebirth. Gather it into a great big cushy pile and fall back into it. Bury yourself in the memories… and finally… emerge with a smile, brush yourself off, and move forward… into the light.

When you are ready, open your eyes and return to this sacred circle.

As we emerged from the meditation, a few Sacred Gardeners shared that they were surprised to find so many cords and to discover multiple layers. They spoke of cords that were attached through generations of a family line. I led the meditation and my focus was on holding space for others, so what I shared was what I had first learned about cords from an intuitive life coach a few years ago. She could see that the circumstances of my first adult relationship kept me tightly bound to the man who had cheated on me while we lived together when I was twenty. There were at least ten cords that she could see, and though I had once been a skeptic of things I could not see with my eyes, I could easily identify the many attachments I had carried for nearly thirty years.

Attached to that betrayal was a belief that I could not trust men, that I could not trust myself to choose well, that I did not deserve the loyalty of a man, that I was not worthy of being loved, that I was undesirable, and a whole host of other bullshit that just got heavier and heavier each decade. As soon as I was alerted to the presence of these cords, I set to the work of severance. So, I wrote a ritual to help my Sacred Gardeners to do the same for themselves.

SEVERING THE TIES THAT BIND US TO THE PAST

Here we stand in sacred circle, in which we dwell in perfect trust. Healing light surrounds us and sustains us. Here we are held with love. We stand firmly planted with roots sown deep. We are connected to the core of Mother Earth and we are protected by source energy which surrounds us and flows through us.

We call upon creation, the energy of all that is, great spirit, god, goddess, universal light energy, elementals, spirit guides, ancestors, animal totems, angels, the energetic source that is all we are, all we see, all we feel, and all we imagine and cannot fathom.

We each stand confident in our intention of cutting the invisible cords that keep us tied to the past, to unhealthy relationships, to false beliefs, to fear based thought, to physical, emotional, and spiritual traumas that hold us in a state of wounded protection – and we ask for your presence, your guidance, and your support in safe and complete severance.

All that you are, all that we are, and all that is beyond our imagining – we bid thee hail and welcome.

Each Gardener stands in center of circle addressed by the sword of surrender:

Are you ready, willing, and able to sever, release, and retract any and all cords attached to people, places, events, emotions, feelings, fears, traumas, and unknown and unseen forces that bind you and keep you from living fully present and in joy? “I AM!”

Do you who are holding space in this sacred circle offer your loving support and positive energy toward the safe, healing endeavor of our dedicant, for her highest good and for the good of all? “WE DO!”

Will you allow and receive the loving assistance and positive energy of those surrounding you who are holding space for you in loving light, who offer their energy for the highest good of you and for all? “I DO!”

Do you wish to name aloud or silently those people, places, events, emotions, feelings, fears, traumas? “SAY THEM ALOUD OR STATE THAT YOU ARE DOING SO IN SILENCE”

As I wield the sword of surrender to symbolize the cutting of these cords – be they many or few – see in your mind’s eye the cords being swiftly cut with grace and ease, and then witness each cord being retracted into your being and simultaneously into the being or representation of what formerly bound you. As each cord recedes and retracts, send it with love and with gratitude, for each of those cords represented a lesson and a growth opportunity. Let that being or representative know that you are finished with this lesson, that you are no longer holding on, and that you wish them peace.

Space Holders Chant:  And it all just falls away. And it all just falls away.

When she feels it is finished, dedicant says: “Thank you. It is done!”

Once each dedicant has released and severed their cords, we all circle up for a healing chant. As we sing, we each visualize a golden healing light sparkling over the surface of our bodies, as the opening within our energetic beings which carried the cords are healed and sealed. As we chant, we can see our own healing, and we pass our energy clockwise around the circle to assist with the healing of others – as we receive the same from them.

I am a circle. I am healing you.
You are a circle. You are healing me.
Unite us, be one.
Unite us, be as one.

We offer our gratitude to creation, the energy of all that is, great spirit, god, goddess, universal light energy, elementals, spirit guides, ancestors, animal totems, angels, the energetic source that is all we are, all we see, all we feel, and all we imagine and cannot fathom.

We walk in your light and feel your presence even through darkness. For the purposes of this healing circle, we bid thee hail and farewell.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. It is done, it is done, it is done.

There is nothing like standing in a circle of women while being held in loving intention. As I symbolically swung the sword to sever the cords for each of my Sacred Gardeners, I was focused on the freedom and liberation of each. I noticed with the circle’s progression that I could sense a tingling energy against my upper arms right before she announced that the work was done.

When the circle was complete, some announced an immediate lightness of being, feeling a sense of sitting taller and feeling lighter. It was glorious to witness such an immediate affect.

Once we had cleared the field and created an open space for more goodness to enter our lives, we set to the work of attracting what comes next.

What comes next for me is a good night’s (or morning’s ) sleep… so that part of the tale shall have to wait for another day. Thank you for walking this path with me. I am so happy to have you near. HAPPY EQUINOX!

The Love of a Good Cat – Part 3

Every joint in my body aches this morning. I cannot get them to relax. That would require informing my body that she is gone, and that there is nothing left to hold onto. Perhaps it is my empathy out of balance, and rigor has set in, like the rigid nature of her sacred vessel that I carried in for after-care as soon as the doors opened, five hours after she left me. Like three times before. “Can you please help my baby get to Greenbriar?” (the crematorium for pets)

Yesterday was an excruciatingly long day. I left her for only moments, to tend to my father a few doors down. Otherwise, there were only a couple of times that I let her escape my embrace.

She had stopped eating, and the medication the doctor gave us didn’t help. My home looks like triage, with failed attempts to save a life scattered everywhere. IV fluids hang on a hook next to the couch, a syringe with water to stave off thirst on the ottoman, six different plates and bowls on the floor offer unconsumed food remnants that begged for an appetite. “Okay, how about filet mignon? No? Then, let’s try scrambled egg with your favorite cheese. No? Well, how about…”

I spoke to her doctor that morning, and learned that though she had delivered peace to two of my darlings in years passed, she could no longer bear to be the bringer of death. She referred me to another, who happened to be out of the country. So… the Universe had spoken. We would be doing this the old fashioned way. With patience, with reverence, and with so much love.

So, I gave Dad his morning meds and served him breakfast and informed my parents I would not be back unless they needed me. I walked in the door, and she did not run to greet me. So, I ran to greet her, instead. I picked her up and returned her to my chest, where we would remain until the end.

When I wrote about my experiences with death last year, as a part of a death doula curriculum, I introduced my readers to Morgan. She came to me six years ago with her brother, Arthur. He died tragically four years ago, and since then, Morgan and I have lived a peaceful and mindful existence.

She blossomed when he left us, for he had been the alpha cat (I guess). He was a bit of a bully, really, and I hated that she was submissive to him. She and I fell madly in love in those days that followed, and I’m not sure I have ever known a more kind and gentle soul than she. She would greet me at the door upon entering, and when I would pick her up, she would place her paws on each side of my neck and rub her cheek against my nose. She would mark me for all to know that I belonged to her. I was her human.

She would wake me in the mornings by climbing over me and settling next to my face for my cat tongue facials, which I referred to as Morganderm Abrasion. I would turn my face to be sure she didn’t miss a spot. If I didn’t rise by the time she was through, she would walk over me to stand behind me and poke me with her paw until I gave in. She didn’t always have an empty plate, either.

Morgan had grown thin over the last year following some kind of stroke like event that left her with a slight head tremor. This is when she seemed to forget how to drink properly from the fountain, and she would dunk her head beneath the running water. I would see her with ruffled brow, and slick back the water in her fur to help her with a little impromptu bath. There was a change in the sound of the falling water whenever she did this odd bow, and I heard that noise prolonged the day before I knew she was leaving. It was my portend of what was to come.

As she lay in my arms, nearing her final breaths, I scrolled through photos of when I first brought her home with Arthur. I couldn’t believe how full she was. I nicknamed her my Squishy. In the mornings, as she stood at the corner of my bed, I would lean over and envelope her with my arms and bury my face in her fur, kissing her cheek a hundred times. I could hear her protest, as if to say, “Oh, mother. Too much love. Give me more.”

She was 17 pounds after a year in my care, and this year… she was down to 7. I could feel her shoulder bones the way that I feel my father’s shoulder bones, and I can see how we are at times larger than life, and as we near the end, our bodies let go of old baggage. Perhaps it makes us easier to care for, the lighter we become. It was an odd thing to stop worrying about feeding each too much, to start wanting them to eat more of anything that might add weight.

It is a mean thing that nature does to us, to bring into our lives such sacred beings who don’t get to stay very long. Six years was not enough Morgan for my aching heart. I need a hundred more!

She was my comforter through so much loss (Arthur, the boss who loved me, my former identity). And now my only comfort is knowing that I served her well. I loved her completely. I held her tiny, sacred being in my arms for nearly 20 hours. I was her doula as she transitioned from my world into the light of all that is. I instructed her on where to go and who to look for, and I asked forgiveness for the things I failed to do because I did not understand her language and couldn’t see what was going on inside that precious water-soaked head.

Morgan came into my life when her elderly owner could no longer care for her. It was three months after Nightshade died, and she had been with me for 19 years. My only regret, is that I was not ready sooner, for I could have had more Morgan and more Arthur, and my life would have been even richer.

I know that I will rescue again, and without a doubt, I will be rescued in return. But first, I will take time to sit in solitude with my sweet angel kitty. When she shows up, I don’t want to mistake her energy for that of another. She was given wings at birth, you know. Morgan was a Turkish Van cat. Their distinct markings are a mostly white body with ears and tail of orange or black, with a spot between the shoulders that is called the Mark of Allah. Morgan’s mark was a pair of orange angel wings. She lived with purpose and fulfilled her mission. And she has taken flight… returning to the light of truth.

Oh, how blessed we are to be chosen by these furry beings of love and light. They were given the power to dispel darkness, and they so freely share their magick with us. This truth is what encourages us to break our own hearts over and over again. We would dwell in the dark without their light. With that kind of love… everything is illuminated.

This ache is all consuming. I wonder how long it will stay with me. My muscles and joints feel as if they are still holding on. I guess I must get to the work of letting go. As I said to her, “It’s okay to let go. You are safe. Mom’s not going anywhere and she will miss you every day of her life, but she will be okay, too.” Into the light of truth, we go…

Art by Sandra Bierman

Caregiver Respite

Yesterday, I drove eleven hours to reach my nirvana. Before chosen as a somewhat popular band name, this was the transcendent state in which there is neither suffering, desire, nor sense of self – the final goal of Buddhism. In the symbolic sense, I find these things not at ocean’s edge (only an hour from my home), but on mountain top. In the Blue Ridge Mountains, my soul finds peace, renewal, and rebirth.

My parents and I have fallen into such a lovely routine of presence and connectedness, that it was difficult to find the right timing for my absence, but as it often does, the universe conspired for my highest good and everything fell into place. My friends with a Bed &Breakfast in Banner Elk, NC had one bed available, my brother planned a weekend visit with the folks, and suddenly my worries about abandoning my cat and my parents were lifted.

I once dreaded a long drive, even with a friend, for the tedious nature of the journey… trying to stay awake, stopping to pee in a public restroom, the way the body rebels from prolonged sitting / riding. But in recent years, I’ve learned to love such a journey, even solo. Yesterday, I enjoyed eleven hours of introspection.

I listened to an audiobook on spirituality, then needed more stimulation, so I sang along with the cast of Hamilton, and then spent some time with Alexander Hamilton’s biography (also on audiobook), which informed Lin Manuel Miranda’s epic Broadway show. I found myself wishing there had been such art available in my youth, for learning about history would have been even more interesting to me if I could hum the tune.

I am grateful that I am able to find just as much joy in solitude as I do with great company. Maybe I have become the change I most wish to see in the world.

I arrived at The Pointe B&B at North View just before dinner time, after leaving home at 6:06am. Oh, the glory of walking into open loving arms after a long drive. I was informed that four of the seven other guests were teachers and one was a childhood friend of our hostess. They had grown up together and had gone all the way through school, but had not seen each other in thirty years. This ‘business’ has delivered the prosperity of reunion to my dear friend. The peace in her heart is tangible, and I am grateful.

After dinner, I learned more about the teacher-guests. They live near the DC area, and if you’ve ever seen video footage of the T-Rex protesting the President in front of the White House, well… you’ll know that I have been blessed to meet a few remarkable and energetic beings who carry humor for protection during difficult times, this weekend. It turns out that this group of friends drove down to attend the Scottish Highland Games on Grandfather Mountain. And of course… we learned that we share a common world view, spiritual path, and even world travel experience. We are kindred. It was difficult to turn down the invitation to join them for the games, but I reminded myself that I have come here to reconnect with the spirit that lives in the woods. Men in kilts will have to wait for another day.

I am sitting in a napping porch swing with my laptop, looking out at a mountain range, listening to the wind in the leaves and various bird call, bearing witness to bees and chipmunks in the yard. It is glorious. This is how my soul finds renewal… in the majesty of Mother Nature, in Her form of ancient, voluptuous, undulating mountain curves and folds. She allows me to sit in Her lap as She gently strokes my hair, and I am at peace. There are grey clouds above and I am hoping to add the sound of mountain rain to my weekend soundtrack.

On my drive, I was thinking about a sweet friend who is facing some health concerns. She has been having trouble sleeping lately, and reached out for support. On that road I drove, which sometimes presented obstacles, I started writing a meditation for her in my mind. What was to be a 9.5 hour drive (per google maps) ended up being an 11 hour journey. Most of the road was smooth and delightfully free-flowing. But once in a while there were obstacles. Some stops were just to empty my bladder and keep going, but then there was… South Carolina. It is the only stretch of I-95 I’ve driven that instantly changes at the border… shrinking down to two lanes in each direction. An accident that didn’t even block the road cost all drivers an extra 40 minutes as everyone slowed down to look, and there was nowhere for a non-nosy driver to pass.

When my friend was given a diagnosis and learned surgery was required, an obstacle was presented in the form of a heart concern. So, she has been momentarily diverted and things have slowed down to ensure she stays safe. But soon, the obstacle will be behind her and the road ahead will be free-flowing once again. She may need to stop for gas or to empty her bladder, but the road will patiently await her eager return to the path of discovery and freedom.

What a blessing it is that we all get to share our sacred journeys with the hearts of others. How lovely to seek healing and respite and to find it in the embrace of those we love. What wonder to be nourished and nurtured by a joyful welcome, deep sharing, caring inquiry, and in the honor of holding space for one another. In my heart, I know that THIS is the meaning of life. We are the universe made manifest in human form for the delight of being touched.

I look up to see two souls at play, a small bird and a chipmunk at the edge of the yard. What a shame it would be to be in the presence of such grace and miss the point.

For the moment, I am comforted to know that my most important beings are caring for one another back home, while I am doing the necessary work of caring for the caregiver (that’s me). When I get home, we will get dad ready for a surgery that will hopefully bring comfort, but will also require closer care through recovery. I am recharging my battery and will be ready to serve with presence, patience, reverence and grace. (so mote it be)

I’m planning to close this sacred writing tool and relax on the napping swing for a while. The meditation for my friend, to help her rest, will solidify in my mind to be written and recorded, and later, my hosts and I will ride down the mountain to share a meal. We are all eager to hear the Highland Tales of my fellow guests around the fire this evening. Until then… Slainte! (Gaelic – “To Your Good Health!”)

Thank you for walking this path with me. I’m so happy you are here.

If you’d like to join us, you can book your stay at: https://www.thepointebandb.com/

View from The Pointe B&B at North View, Banner Elk, NC

Kindness Matters

I’ve been struggling lately. It’s an old wound that seems to heal, then fester. Body image. Self worth. Self loathing. Fear-based thought. Acceptance. Struggle. Being mindful makes it better… and worse. And being post-menopausal, well… Sigh…

In 2012, I took a drastic step in an effort to see if metabolic disorder could be overcome via surgical intervention. Nothing else had, up to that point. No one would have believed that I consumed fewer than 1200 calories a day and could weigh over 250 lbs.

The first time I did Weight Watchers at age 18, I weighed 154 lbs. In my mind, I was HUGE. I felt shame over thighs that touched and a belly that wasn’t flat.

With a diagnosis of poly cystic ovarian syndrome and metabolic disorder in my mid-twenties, and with each diet I tried, my body became a vessel of holding. Even after having 80% of my stomach removed in 2012 via vertical sleeve gastrectomy (no malabsorption as my intestines remain intact) my body never became thin. I cannot consume more than a cup of food in a sitting, and I can still manage to put on weight with grace and ease.

Obesity is a disease that effects the body, but breaks the heart. At every turn, you are reminded by society that you are not worthy. Sticks and stones won’t break my bones, but the judgment of others will be internalized and carried like cancer in the bones. All consuming.

After surgery, I did get to a lower weight than I’d been able to before, but two years into menopause, my body is resistant to letting go. Despite a greater sense of self-love and a decade of reprogramming and altering internal dialog to love language rather than fear language, weight that had stayed off for some time has begun to return.

I know that we manifest what we think about, and so in an effort to stave off old fears of never-ending expansion, I decided to find focus for overcoming.

Someone had recommended using Marianne Williamson’s A Course In Weight Loss for self-discovery a couple of years ago, and I already had it in my Kindle library, so I opened it up. Honestly, I have a resistance to the term ‘God’, thanks to the oppression of the patriarchy over the last 2,000 years (I tend to be against anything that uses violence to ‘encourage’ belief), and so I also felt a resistance to her work. But I decided to move forward, using a different noun. I appreciate a good workbook to encourage an emotional deep dive, after all.

In the first chapter, we are encouraged to identify with a list of emotions and write whatever comes up. Then, we ask the Universe (in my case, Great Spirit) to take each burden from us. As I wrote, I incorporated a technique from ThetaHealing. I believe that we gather wisdom from many sources, and may use whatever resonates to build a mindful practice.

There’s a really long list of items to address, and I addressed them all. I don’t feel that I felt anything I wrote consciously, but words (as they often do) rose easily through my fingertips and onto the page. Shame, Injustice, Anger, Protection, Fear, Pride, Unforgiveness, Selfishness, Judgment, Jealousy, Disdain, Greed, Excess responsibility, Laziness, Separation, Pressure, Dishonesty, Exhaustion, Arrogance, Burden, Inferiority, Stress, Embarrassment, Heartbreak, Self-abnegation.

She ultimately is suggesting that we let go of the ‘weight’ of these burdens… the emotional ‘weight’ we carry in our minds. I won’t ‘burden’ you with the whole story, but will share one piece as an example of the work. FEAR is such an obvious one, isn’t it? So many of us are limited by this emotion. This is what I wrote on that.

I am afraid that I will never be adequately loved. I am afraid I will never have true intimacy in my life. I am afraid I will never be someone’s priority. I am afraid my truth will never be seen. I am afraid I will never meet someone worthy of knowing my truth. I am afraid that if I open my heart to another, I will be betrayed. I am afraid I will never attract someone who is authentic and honest. I am afraid I am not worthy of such partnership. I am afraid I will never know what it is to feel completely safe with a man. I am afraid I will never cross paths with a man who has worked as hard as I have to be vulnerable and authentic. I am afraid that the truth is I am unattractive to men. I am afraid no one has been attracted to me because I am fat and ugly. I am afraid that no one will ever be attracted to me because I am fat and ugly. I am afraid that those who have claimed to be attracted to me just saw someone they could use. I am afraid I will be the cause of someone’s suffering. I am afraid that my actions or inaction will allow others to suffer. I am afraid I will never share mutual attraction and adoration with a man, and that I will never know the kind of love and support I have witnessed in couples I admire. I’m afraid that my body will never release excess weight and that it will keep rising without cause. I’m afraid of how my body will look if I do lose the excess weight. I’m afraid I will never love my body as it is… in any shape or form. I’m afraid no one else will love me as I am in any shape or form.

Great spirit, all that is, beloved angels: I surrender my fear to you. Please take it from me. Thank you. It is done.

The next step she refers to as ‘Reflection and Prayer’. For me, it is about connection and visualization. So, I took her suggestion, and grounded and centered, then walking through my mind into meditation… this is what came forward.

THE VISUALIZATION

I sent my energy into the earth and brought the core of light back into my being. I brightened and aligned my chakras and pulled the light from above into my being – expanding my golden light of protection.

I stood looking at the wall that I have built – broad and high. Great spirit in the form of a woman with flowing white hair stood beside me. She affirmed the strength and beauty of what I had built, but also how it kept others out. Together we assessed each cobbled brick and how it was no longer needed. Together we disassembled the wall. Behind me was a neglected and dying garden, and before me – beyond the confines of my former wall, was a vast, open field of lush, beautiful, decadence in green and pink – like wildflowers rising from softest long grass.

As I stood beside Great Spirit, I could see someone walking toward me, stepping over tall grass. He says that he has been looking for me all over, and is relieved that I have finally been revealed to him. He reaches for my hand, and I take his without fear or trepidation. Together, we forge a new path in our togetherness, he swings the scythe for clearing the way, as I lay down the bricks which once made up the wall that contained me, to pave the road ahead.

I smile back at Great Spirit, and she blows me a kiss. She is happy for me and my liberation.

The next phase is letter writing. She suggests that the ‘thin-you’ addresses the ‘not-thin-you’. The two sides of your identity that are either healthy and healed or traumatized and suffering. She uses a sample letter as an example that starts, “Dear Fat Ass,”… and my first discovery for this part of the work is that I am grateful that I long ago learned that kindness matters. Even with the shame I carry for the size of my frame, I could never in a million years address anyone, even my self, with such hateful words. This is what came up for me when I got over the hurt in my heart for the words one of MW’s clients would use to address themselves.

LETTERS TO AND FROM LARGER THAN LIFE ME

Dear Larger Than Life:

I see you. I see the pain and suffering that you’ve carried since you were small. I feel the ache of unworthiness throughout this body and being. I’m sorry you’ve had to work so hard to protect me, these many years. I’m sorry that you have spent so much time building walls rather than paving paths. I’m sorry that those walls kept you isolated and invisible rather than connected and out among the beauty of all that is.

I can remember those moments of feeling unsafe in our youth. Having a boy stand too close or stare too long. Hearing cat-calls while walking to a friend’s house to play barbies. Wishing that boys wouldn’t like me, so that I wouldn’t have to hurt a friend when I didn’t feel the same. What was the true point of this sacrifice? Not wanting to be hurt, or not wanting to hurt others?

It seems there is so much to fear when we are maiden. Will we be worthy of our parents’ love? Are we so different from others that we cannot find communion? Are the bullies right about me? Am I too ugly to stand among others? Will I ever be worthy of being loved? If I don’t fit in here, will I fit in anywhere? If I don’t have a boyfriend, does that mean I am unlovable?

But then, one day… we realize we are no longer the maiden. From the perspective of the crone, we are all-seeing – all knowing. We see the error of our ways, and we know that there is no more time to waste.

We understand that we were always worthy of our parents’ love, not because of a college degree or a career path, but because we are the symbol of their love made manifest. That was always enough. We were always worthy of love. Our differentness is what makes us so welcome in community. We allow others to see the world from a new perspective, and that has great value when so many are wearing blindfolds. The bullies were never really telling you that you were ugly… they were telling you that they felt ugly. That you chose to never hurt others as you had been hurt was a part of the lesson. This is where compassion gained foundation. Those stones, rather than building a wall, built a bench where we could sit with another to share comfort.

We who have not had the love and loyalty of a good man are not less worthy than those who have. We were fortified with a different kind of strength, in our ability to stand on our own, to manifest our own hopes and dreams, and to pave a safe path without compromising the integrity of our own core values. Rather than being one half of a couple, we have always been one whole – even when we felt too fractured to realize it. In our aloneness, we had the freedom and clarity to be present and focused for many, rather than just one. We merged with the Artemis archetype and became warriors!

I want to offer you my love, as well. But first, I must offer you my deepest regrets. I am sorry that while feeling unlovable, I did not love you enough. I am sorry that the unconditional love I offered others, was withheld from you. I am sorry for the nights that I lie awake in bed, feeling all of your ‘extra-ness’, that my thoughts were filled with such unkindness. I am sorry that I learned from the bullies to be compassionate toward others, but was rarely compassionate toward you. I am sorry that in your endeavor to keep me safe, that I chained you in a dungeon of darkness.

You deserved freedom and light! Today, I offer you the key to freedom. I would unlock those chains, but the truth is… you are the strong one. You, great warrior woman, need only to rise… and those chains will all fall away.

There are five things that we should say when we are ready to leave one world, being liberated from the body, and into another. As we move forward into a new world, free from the suffering of old wounds which no longer serve us, I offer them to you: Please forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you for keeping me safe. I love you. Good bye.

Sincerely yours, Simply Me

Dear Simply Me:

I have waited so long to receive this message from you. Thank you for finding the courage to let go. What a relief it is to finally release an attachment to fear. What a great burden to carry. It is far heavier than even this Larger Than Life earthly body.

 It is fear that leads to hatred. It is fear that leads to loathing. It is fear that leads to hurting. It is fear that causes us to harm ourselves and others. It is fear that builds walls. It is fear that casts stones. It is fear that keeps us from growing into authentic glory. Let’s be done with it!

I can see how much effort you’ve put into personal development and emotional growth. I honor your hard work and dedication with my own form of letting go. You no longer need protecting, for you have grown fierce with your own sense of belonging. You don’t need layers of protection to render your body invisible, for you finally understand that it is not only safe to shine, but it is necessary for better living and for the good of all.

I am so proud to witness that instead of writing to me with harsh words of blame and accusation, you chose compassion. I believe the understanding earned through suffering delivered the greatest lesson on kindness. I am enormously proud of your choice to be kind and caring toward others, and I am so pleased that you have learned to offer yourself the same.

Here’s the thing, dear one… everything you wrote to me is truth. You and I are ready to move forward into the light of new beginnings. Hand-in-hand, we leave behind regrets of the past. The horizon offers the dawning of hope and the illumination of love. How lucky are we, to have realized that we were never alone in our suffering? We have always had one another, two parts of one sacred whole. Today, we seal old wounds with gold, and we are made more valuable. We are a vessel of holding, and we are filled to overflowing with sparkling wisdom and the healing fluid of divine love.

We are so blessed. Thank you. I love you. It is done. Blessed be.

All the best – always, Larger Than Life

Once again, we are instructed to ask for assistance to overcome and heal this relationship with ourselves. Nearly 5500 words have been written so far, and I’m only at the end of Lesson 2. It doesn’t feel like a waste of time to have this written conversation with myself. I have grown to appreciate my own company in recent years, and I have no patience for shallow, meaningless talk with anyone.

If my struggle feels familiar to you, I hope you will find inspiration for healing. If you, dear reader, are that person who has never had to diet, but has judged others as lazy or gluttonous due to the cellulite they carry, I hope you might come to understand the level of suffering that resides on the inside of those who don’t look like you.

May we all find our way back to nurturing kindness for ourselves and others. That’s what will save this world from (self) destruction. Thank you for walking this path with me.

A Pride of Warriors

Where I live, the month of June carries a great deal of weight. The most
obvious, here in the State of Florida, is the arrival of oppressive heat and
torrential rain. Many of us are grateful for those daily downpours, as they
often manage to lower the temperature from around 99 degrees to somewhere around 88 degrees, if we’re lucky.

June is also Gay Pride month (not just in Florida), and celebrations occur
at various venues throughout the month. You’ve probably heard of Gay Days at Disney, which is loads of fun in a sea of red and rainbow. Today, my former workplace raised the rainbow flag in front of the corporate office, to proudly fly a commitment to diversity, honoring the dignity of ALL. The induction of the Pride Alliance into the employee networks several years ago was monumental, even if it felt ridiculously overdue. It’s never too late to get it right.

But the other thing about June… that which makes it not just hot, but also
heavy, is a certain anniversary. A horrific, terrible, nightmare in memorial.
In the early morning hours of June 12, 2016 a domestic terrorist entered the Pulse Nightclub, right at the heart of one of our Central Florida
neighborhoods, and murdered 49 sacred members of our beloved community.

Oh, how we long for the days that our theme parks made us special. No city on the planet wants to be a member of the mass shooting club!

Pulse was a gay nightclub, where friends could gather for dancing, for
laughter, for music therapy, and stress relief. It was a place where those who walked through the entrance doors could feel safe to be their authentic selves. It was, for many, a homecoming to acceptance.

They tried to tell us that the shooter was angry about something happening across the globe, but the truth was far more disturbing. He was angry with his culture, his religion, and our society, who would have him carry his unspoken truth inside, never to be fulfilled. He wasn’t allowed to be who he wanted to be, and so he took it out on those who could.

A world of harm comes from pretending to be something you are not, while
swallowing shame placed upon you by others. It is the most bitter poison one can ingest. It can only lead to turmoil and destruction, whether it be to one’s self, or to a room filled with sacred souls.

I don’t really understand the societal repression, oppression, and
aggression that seems to come from patriarchal religions toward those who are LGBTQ. Especially, since the big three of the patriarchy claim that God is love, that God created everything and makes no mistakes, God is the only judge, etc. And don’t forget the ‘golden rule’ – do unto others as you would have done unto you. Seems like a really big disconnect, if you ask me, when they would have the rights of others limited or removed altogether.

Gratefully, I’ve not seen or heard this ridiculous cry from anyone in my
personal circle, but THIS is why there is no ‘straight pride month’, people!
Society does not force straight people to bottle up their truth inside walls of protection in lieu of living an authentic life. They get to live each day, out in the open, holding hands with the one they love. They don’t have to worry about being beaten for wearing the clothing that makes them feel confident and comfortable. Their family members are less likely to disown them for being who they really are. Some might say… they are lucky.

I grew up in the Unitarian Church, and my parents’ best friends are a
lesbian couple who have been together for decades. So, when I fell in love with a woman in my mid-twenties, I didn’t hesitate to share the news with my parents. My relationship was embraced by my family and by my friends, and I wasn’t in a situation where I had to dance around pronouns when I spoke of my partner. But I do recall feeling fearful of public displays of affection, like holding hands while walking down the street. I had been bullied and taunted for not being thin, and so I understood the mean spirit of broken people. Standing up to adversity requires courage. In public, I felt the need to be cautious in order to stay safe.

We were together for eight years, and we remain friends, to this day. My
therapist told me, back in the day, that I was the only client who had ever
expressed shame and regret for discovering that I was NOT gay. I mean,
really… if I could flip a switch, I would, because the men in my romantic
life have been a real disappointment. But that’s another story.

I have friends who have loved one another for decades, whose lives are
completely entwined, and yet they were only recently able to legally marry. And I have a friend who is transgender, who after years of this awareness and self-discovery, is beginning to step out into the world donned in garments that make her feel more at home in her skin.

Can you imagine what that is like? To have gone to work every day dressed like someone else? To look in the mirror and see an impostor? To reply to co-workers, when they ask about your weekend plans, while creating language to dance around the truth of the person that you will share it with, and whom you cherish the most in all the world? You know what? You don’t have to be an empath to know that it feels fake, false, empty, lonely, and sad. NO ONE SHOULD HAVE TO FEEL THAT WAY!

Let me tell you something. The beautiful LGBTQ souls everywhere are great
warriors, one and all. Whether they have found the strength and courage to be authentic and live an out and about reality within our judgmental and often hateful society, or if they are carrying their truth on the inside – longing for such freedom, they have my respect, my admiration, and my undying support. I am just aching to be asked to be a stand-in Mom at a wedding, for someone whose own parents were too broken and close-minded to love their own children for being honest and seeking happiness. I have more than enough love to go around.

This weekend, I watched the sequel series on Netflix for Tales of the
City
by Armistead Maupin. It is set in San Francisco and the nucleus of
the story is a transgender woman named Anna, and the beloved community she has created and nurtured over many years. This updated series takes us back to Anna’s courageous and heartbreaking ‘new beginning’, transitioning at a time that was even less inclusive than now. It also shows us details of the relationships of the other residents of Barbary Lane (the home Anna opened to others as a safe space to thrive), who are gay, straight, bisexual, and transgender.

As a friend and ally of the LGBTQ community, I watched every episode with a sense of deep caring for these characters. I wanted to protect them from the ignorance of others, and I wanted them to know that I have felt rejected and abandoned by love, too. I have stood in the mirror willing my body to look different than it does. I have sometimes had the courage to put myself out there again, in order to find the love that I deserve, and I have also locked my heart inside a closet in order to keep it safe.

One thing that occurred to me as I watched each episode, exploring self
discovery and actualization, affection, sexuality, and sensuality in many
forms, I could remember how strange it felt, long ago, to see two men kissing on screen for the first time. I’ll admit, that as a young person, it made me feel uncomfortable, but only because it was not something I had seen before. I love that movies and television are finally beginning to reflect the real world. Perhaps the more we see loving relationships between caring people of all genders and identities, the rest of the world will get over its fear and discomfort with what once felt unfamiliar, and get back to focusing on their own happiness, and allow others to do the same. You know… as they would have done unto themselves.

It’s hard to imagine that reality, right now, with so much bitterness and violence being nurtured and celebrated by the so called ‘President’… but I do believe we will get there. I have no choice but to believe in the probability of peace and the power of love to overcome this darkness.

I doubt that any of us imagined we would celebrate marriage equality in our lifetimes, and yet many of us have either been attendants or guests at gay weddings over the last few years. Or as I like to call them… weddings.
Someday the silliness of the distinction will be obsolete.

In the meantime, we celebrate how far we’ve come. We wave our multi-colored flags, not as a sign of defeat, but as a symbol of freedom. There
is a quality of fierce assertion required to stand up and declare one’s
authentic spirit to the world, and so I think of this remarkable community as a Pride of Lions. A fellowship that learned it must protect their own.

But to be who you are truly meant to be, when the world would have you be just like everyone else – fitting inside the limitations of smaller minds, one must stand with the sureness of a warrior.

So, at the occasion of a month dedicated to the celebration of individuality and fabulousness, and at an anniversary of a horrific moment that my beloved community will never forget, I salute this Pride of Warriors!
I pay tribute to their courage to be who they want to be. I honor their divine perfection, because though I am not religious, I know that who they are is not a mistake. And I bow my head in sorrow for our fallen warriors, and our beloved survivors whose dreams are surely haunted.

As for those who are struggling with the concept of acceptance, respect, and loving kindness for ALL beings (yourself included), consume these wise words from one of our favorite New Yorkers (Ms. Cyndi Lauper):
YOU’LL CHANGE THE WORLD WHEN YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND!
Thank you for walking this path with me.

 

Rage Containment

Being a practitioner of mindfulness in a time of American History when works of dystopian fiction are manifesting in reality at a rapid pace, has its challenges. I have long recognized that scifi equals prophecy, and I don’t want to acknowledge the same for the above genre. But… here we are.

It took me a lifetime to overcome body-shame, and now I am facing the hurdle of country-shame. It’s one thing to hold space for the irreparable damage caused by our ancestors to the First Nations people of this continent and to those stolen from their homeland and forced into slavery – a permanent stain on the soul of this country. It is something entirely different to stand witness to similar offenses of oppression. It is hard to swallow what the GOP is forcing down our throats, feeling helpless while wanting to bite down hard enough to make them all bleed out.

A part of my mindful practice is that I do not watch the news. I started this intention during the Dubba-yuh administration, and I am certain that my personal level of peace has been greater than those who feel the need to watch every moment of footage of this train wreck. But, of course, that does not mean that one can avoid the news altogether. Certainly, since the clearly fucked up election of 2016, rage rises and mindfulness is confronted rather often.

I feel my heart begin to race, and I remind myself to breathe deeply and let it go. I am not an activist by nature, which sometimes feels shameful, too… but I have chosen to let that go, as well. My intention is to come into awareness of the darkness in our world, and with every ounce of my being… send it light.

When I hold onto anger, it causes me bodily harm. I deserve better. And so, I visualize that darkness like the black smoke from the 90’s animated film, Fern Gully, which was voiced by the deviously divine Tim Curry. In my mind’s eye, that villain of poisonous corruption is captured in a vacuum of pink crystal, where it is dissolved and transmuted – becoming harmless to myself and others.

But still, there are times when I simply feel the need to raise my fist into the air and scream obscenities aloud, so that the powers-that-be are clear on my feelings about what is happening around me that feels beyond my control.

Right now… is one of those times. I am angry and outraged by absolutely everything that is happening (or not happening) within the US government and in many of the individual states, as well. As we near the anniversary of the Pulse shooting, which recalls a night of terror in my own beloved community, absolutely nothing has been done to prevent such horror of gun violence befalling the beloved communities of others in this country. Our government has long been dick-whipped by the NRA, and it is shameful.

The fact that many ‘conservatives’ said for eight years that President Obama brought them shame, but not because of the color of his skin, has been gloriously proven false by the blatant, violent racism that has been given free-reign, since the Racist-and-Mysogynist-in-Chief took office in January 2017. The treatment (and/or neglect) of immigrants, migrant workers, LGBTQ, Muslims, Jews, People of Color, disadvantaged women, children, and animals (his kids enjoy trophy hunting, you see) is shameful. Not to mention every effort to rape and pillage the very planet that gives them life! WHAT THE FUCK, PEOPLE!

There are days when mindful, loving kindness escapes me and I simply pray for our immediate destruction. For I know that Mother Earth will survive us. When we have destroyed ourselves, She will have a million years to clear away our pollution and poison, eventually becoming whole again. It’s like my mantra of letting go of that which no longer serves you. Once upon a time, before the white man came to this part of the world, the Earth was revered as Mother, Healer, Goddess, Bringer of Life… and She was treated with the utmost care. Now, as She cowers in a dark corner awaiting the next blow… She is defenseless. Held hostage by ignorance and greed. She should take back her power and just walk away.

Please forgive us, Sacred Mother.
We are helplessly treading toward your rescue, and hoping to save ourselves. They believe that suicide is a sin, and yet they are holding a dagger at their own throats… pitiful fools. Sadly, they will take us all with them.
We will miss you when we are gone.
Such a blessing it has been to behold your beauty and magick.

But then, I return to myself and the practice. My breath connects me with the core of myself and of the earth. She reminds me that I carry a vibration that can harm or heal. I choose healing. I face the rage and anger, and I bow to them both. I validate my authentic emotions, as they mean that I care deeply for the rights of ALL. I come back to the goodness that surrounds me, as there is far more good in this world, than evil.

I remember the owl that attended my last sermon, informing me that change is on the way. I remember that everything moves in cycles, and that recovery is not just possible, it is probable. I am reminded that throughout written history, oppressive and hateful power has slowly risen, and it has quickly fallen. It is that memory of liberation that I hold onto.

Finally, I look toward ARTEMIS, the feminine archetype of the mighty huntress. She still carries a quiver of arrows, and She does not take kindly to men violating the safety and freedom of women.
I return to my breath, and
WATCH HER RISE!

Expressive Art-Magick

Thursday was our final session in our expressive arts journey with our friend who was completing her certification. Let me tell you that each of us entered free from expectation, and parted ways transformed.

As someone who grew up with some level of art-trauma and a real sense of being completely incapable of artistic creation, this realization is no small wonder. No, really. My elementary school art teacher intimidated me like you wouldn’t believe. Looking back, I don’t think he was actually mean to me, but he had a big voice, and I just felt inadequate. I think I judged myself compared to others, rather than feeling judged by him… but alas, that is a memory that rises when I consider my art-disability.

Through every step of this journey, we were faced with photographic evidence of our former selves. We were asked to consider that being and where she was, who she was, how she felt about herself and then move into some random art form, most of which were completely new to us. Actually, I’m not sure that we were even prompted to be that thoughtful about the image looking back at us. I suspect it was the way that our minds simply got out of the way when we moved into the flow of each art form. In many cases, the conversations we had with our former selves took place on a different level after the physical artwork was done.

I’ve written about EMDR (eye movement desensitization rhythm) being like magick, too. It uses an alternating buzz, tone, tap while considering a trauma to help rewire the connections in the mind, touching on the different hemispheres of the brain. It feels so simple, and impossible to have effected change, and yet… you suddenly realize that you no longer burst into tears over a memory or cry yourself to sleep with fear and sorrow.

Expressive Arts Therapy offers a similar kind of magick. (By the way, when I write magick with a ‘k’, it is to differentiate that which is an art of illusion from that which is a kind of miracle that presents itself for your notice.)

For our final session, we gathered to read the Living Eulogies we’d written for ourselves. We discussed whether or not they were difficult to write, and how we felt about the words that rose for our individual celebrations of life. Most were really uncomfortable with the process, as it felt so unfamiliar and inappropriate to speak so kindly of one’s self. You know… the way we are taught not to be proud, because we should be humble. Otherwise, we may be considered by others to be stuck-up or a snob.

What a travesty! To be forced to go through life dimming our own light. I spoke of how easy this process felt for me, which was an indicator of my own evolution. I lived with self-loathing for so much of my life, this process should have been a Herculean task. And yet… the reprogramming that I started in 2005, when a medium repeated a message I’d received once before seems to have finally taken hold. She was telling me that “all I had to do [to move forward with my spiritual growth] was to fall in love with myself, and it would all fall away”. “Well”, I said, “how does one love someone she loathes?”

What I shared in our sacred circle was how I worked to overcome that ridiculous need to keep myself small. I decided that I would consider whether or not I would say to a friend the things I spoke to myself in internal dialogue. If not, I would have to wonder how I could possible say something to myself, so unkind, mean, belittling? Shouldn’t I offer my own being the same kindness, respect, compassion and love that I would offer another? Of course. Yes. More than anyone… I deserve my own loving kindness.

So, possibly the process of writing my own living eulogy offered me that gift. Though I still struggle with my own inner-bully… that bitch is finally starting to lose her voice inside my head. Ha! I’m kidding. I would never call anyone names… even her. She is receiving the loving embrace that she deserves, and the result is healing her wounded heart, as well.

For our final art project, we were presented with three pieces of paper, a white crayon, a pencil, a set of watercolor paint, a candle, and a mirror. We were shown three ways to create our own self-portrait, and instructed to create, then write words to go with each art piece. Talk about intimidated! I could feel Mr. Veblin (my elementary art teacher) over my shoulder ready to judge. But you know what? He wasn’t mean at all. He was there to support me. He didn’t say a word, so not to frighten me with his booming voice. He simply held space for me. And guess what else! I didn’t hate the results. I mean… I am not growing into an artist of any skill… but I do believe I am growing into a woman of greater courage.

The words that I wrote at the bottom of each creation were: “Radiant with the Light of Hope”, “Grateful for the beautiful way she is seen by others”, and “Every curve and curl a delight to behold”.

We were then instructed to take a post-it note to add our thoughts to the art of others, including our own. These are the words my artwork received: “Melissa, Love is far more freeing than loathing. So glad you found your way.”, “I see happiness in each of these self portraits.”, “I see creative flow, divine light, and freedom.”, “I see happiness. You are shining so BRIGHT!”, “Beauty radiates from the depth of your soul, and it shows in your portraits.”, “So joyful and full of hope. Shine on!”, “You inspire. You inhabit light. You are a leader.”

Going back to our conversation about how hard it was to write and speak positive things about ourselves, I am reminded of when a good friend said to me many years ago, “Oh, Missy… I wish you could see yourself the way others see you.” At the time, I thought that would be a wonderful gift, indeed. For I could not see the light and beauty she claimed to witness in my company. But with the words that flowed from my pencil, and the words added by these remarkable women who joined me in this work, I could feel the fruition of my friend’s blessing. It makes me realize that the good wishes from others don’t go away, even when we think we don’t deserve them. They remain vigilant, standing firmly planted at the edge of those walls we built around ourselves, just waiting to squeeze in through a tiny crack in the mortar. We thought we were protecting ourselves from harm, but while we were busy blocking out the possibility of being hurt by others, we were hurting ourselves… for love also requires an entrance.

We finished our time together by dancing with our shadows upon the wall, and of course… a group photo. I wish we had taken a before-photo, as well. Without a doubt, the transformation of this group of courageous souls would be visible to the eye. I can see it, not only in our smiles, but in the energetic aura that surrounds us… as if in the process of becoming more fully ourselves, we have also become ONE with each other. What a gift!

Thank you so much for walking this path with me. It has been a glorious garden of discovery. If you ever have the opportunity to venture into the Expressive Arts, I hope you will love yourself enough to know that you are worth it. Courage is the act of moving forward, even when you are afraid. Take that step, dear ones. You won’t regret it. I promise!

Expressive Arts Session Six / Final Project – Self Portrait

Living Eulogy to Her Becoming

I’ve returned to complete my homework assignment for tomorrow’s final Expressive Arts project… a living eulogy to the final (most recent) photo of the six selected. This picture is from last year… and it was taken by the extraordinary woman who has led this series. I can’t really say if this is a complete representation of a life well-lived, so far… for SHE is possibly more than I can yet comprehend. However, she does deserve my devotion, my reverence, and my words. May they do her justice.

Her parents almost named her Samantha, but it was MELISSA that stuck. She never imagined how she would grow into her name.

Melissa means honey bee in Greek. Thirty years would pass before she understood the significance of such a moniker. It would take even longer for her to own it.

In ancient Greece, those who were priestesses dedicated to nurturing the temples of the Goddess were called the Melissae. They tended the eternal flames, chanted the sacred words of healing and devotion, and they served their sisters with loyalty and reverence.

In her own way, our Melissa has been dedicated to service, as well. She reveled in service and sisterhood to her most beloved Tribe for twenty years. She worked in service to Maxine, Don, Dan and Daisy for what combined to equal a quarter century. Through them, she found purpose and partnership that delivered validation, until she learned to value herself. Retirement at forty-nine allowed her to be of service to her parents when it felt like the very best use of her time.

To Melissa, friendship has been such a gift and among her greatest treasure. She was blessed to meet her first true friend at the early age of five. She has important friendships from every decade of her life. Each are unique gems that she carries in her heart at all times, so that her love may never be far from those she adores and holds sacred.

Though Melissa chose not to have children, she has loved many as her own. She was even present for the birth of five. Certainly, she was present in spirit for all the rest… the legacy of her Tribe.

She once cared for a beloved 18 month old, when she was most in need. For one month, with a little help from friends, she made that sacred being her greatest priority. It was the most terrifying thing she ever did – being responsible for the well-being of a tiny human, and she considers it the most important.

Into her life, five beloved beings pounced and purred. The first one brought her liberation and independence. The second taught her how to love without condition – she was her familiar. The third was a big fluffy ball of light who taught her how to be a caregiver. The fourth showed her how it felt to be adored and how to survive traumatic loss. The fifth is showing her what pure, angelic goodness feels like. These are her children. No one else has shared her life so intimately.

First with her parents, then with friends, and even on her own, Melissa has enjoyed the pleasure of travel. She has a passion for walking with other cultures and touching ancient history. By the time she was twenty, she had been to every state on the US east coast, to California, Nevada, and Arizona, Mexico, England, France, Scotland, Turkey, and Finland. The latter trip, a second-place prize for a senior year writing contest. She holds certain parts of the world so dear that she has returned, more than once, to England, Scotland, and Wales. At the age of 39, she declared she would stop waiting for someone else to make her dreams come true, and she traveled to Ireland on her own. Living there or in Cornwall for a portion of the year is a dream she longs to manifest.

She has never been married, but has never lived without extraordinary love in her life. She has made poor choices, but has no regrets. She has learned and grown with gratitude, instead.

She has been a loyal and dedicated partner and secret keeper. She is a beloved and appreciated daughter and sister. She is a compassionate and caring friend. She is a Priestess of Artemis – a warrior woman whose weapons are words… they AIM to heal.

She is a woman who spent her life searching for someone to love her enough. Until one beautiful, miraculous, glorious day, the search was over…
SHE FOUND HERSELF!

Expressive Arts ~ Week Six / Finale

Permission To Be Real

Week five of six of our Expressive Arts workshop arrived last night. I felt a little sad to realize how close we’ve come to the end of our shared story. As we went around the circle to express our feelings about the work, it was obvious to all that this process is transformative. The energetic shift and emotional healing we’ve witnessed in ourselves and others is nothing short of extraordinary.

Earlier that afternoon, I received a box from one of my Tribe Sisters in Virginia. It was filled with silk veils and belly dance music. I plan to use this art in my own workshop in May, to help us connect with the divine feminine in a form of movement that would be connected with the element of water, to symbolize sensuality and flow synonymous with the season of fertility and vibrant blossoms bursting forth.

Imagine my delight, when our beloved facilitator informed us that our first expression of the evening would be in the form of ecstatic dance! It was an even greater surprise to have recognized the music, a guided journey into the self, through dance. Many years have passed since my Tribe worked with the music of Gabrielle Roth. The sound transported me back in time, while also propelling me further into healing.

I wanted to be able to explain the process with greater clarity, since my memory is like swiss cheese, and I didn’t write down everything we learned last night. I was trying to be in the moment, after all. So, I found a few interviews with Gabrielle and made some notes to share with you. The five rhythms of dance that Gabrielle Roth developed is a healing process using percussive rhythm and dance to move through an initiation of sorts.

She explains that the first rhythm is one of FLOWING, and it is the unconsciousness or wallflower stage that helps us connect with Mother Earth, the divine female energy, and our own flow. The second rhythm is STACCATO, which is focused movement that moves us into the divine masculine energy. The third rhythm is CHAOS, where we find freedom from what we carry, which is the female and male energy unified. The fourth rhythm is LYRICAL, where we become lightened and fall into harmonious flow with the language of the soul. The fifth rhythm is STILLNESS, which is a sort of electrified stillness, where we become one with all that is, finding inner peace.

This entire process lasts about thirty minutes. We were in darkness, and only followed the guidance we received from Gabrielle’s voice, and the voice within. Our bodies moved through the process as directed. We began with resistance and unconscious awareness, through self-conscious movement, into freedom and liberation, into a dance with the divine lovers that we cannot see with the eyes, but sense with the heart, and into electrified stillness. Which is a perfect description of how one feels at this point. You are slowing movement, but your entire body is snapping and tingling with sensations that inform us we are not who we were when we started.

Before the dance, we were limited. Limited by our own beliefs and the restrictions we’ve had placed upon us by society – we are embarrassed and ashamed to be taking up space, let alone moving wildly in ecstatic dance. But when we come through the other side of this process… this gift… we have been liberated from the confines of our former tiny boxes. As Gabrielle Roth says… we have been given permission to be real.

When we came back to earth and the lights came on, we were instructed to write an “I AM” statement, based on how we were feeling at this moment – post 5Rhythms.

THE LANDSCAPE OF ME…
(before the dance, these statements might have felt contrived or forced – a desire to be these things, rather than a knowing that I AM these things)

  • I am a well-grounded, radiant, glorious being of divine light, and I am open to receive the great wisdom and abundant blessings of the sacred Universe!
  • I am ALL me!
  • I am expanding beyond former limitations into my final becoming!

We worked with pastels to depict how we were feeling after the dance. One drawing each to depict mind, body, and spirit. For me, the spirit of the dance was ecstatic and colorful. I saw myself in the dance enveloped in flames like a phoenix rising, every energy center of my being expanding and taking flight. My body felt grounded and energetic, as if earth energy was rising and the elements were available at my reach. My mind and emotions felt as if they were flowing in a peaceful back and forth, in and out… collecting and gathering sensations of loving kindness.

We moved around the room to read and honor what others had written and drawn, and we offered up words of affirmation based on what we witnessed. The words I received were: Joyous Warmth, Shining Star, Radiance of Bright Light, and Beacon.

You know… I’ve been on this deep-dive journey for half of my life. The work that we’ve done, aside from much of the art forms with which we’ve experimented, has not been unfamiliar territory for me. I was able to easily reach in and pull out of my soul the old wounds and dark shadows, because I have been exploring these parts of myself for a really long time. What has been most exciting to me, has been to hold space for others and witnessing their courage to reach, to find, to honor, and to release these things for themselves. In some cases, for the very first time.

When I am introduced to new forms of healing, such as Expressive Arts, I always ask the question: “How might my life be different today, had I found this resource when I was younger?”

I guess the answer to that question is obvious. We come to the form of healing that helps us to heal, grow, and move forward… when we are ready for it. Healing comes at exactly the right time.

There are many things that have developed for me in the last couple of years that might have been less impactful, had I not yet learned to embrace myself as a writer. Though my gift for words has always been present, I have not always had the confidence to own it. I guess I should add that to my I AM statement list…

  • I am a writer!

We left our meeting space feeling a little overwhelmed, I think. I am certain that we are all grateful and a little sad, as we face only one more homework assignment. In the week ahead, we are to write to the image of our final photo… the most recent version of ourselves… a Living Eulogy. I think of it as what I would say about myself if I were to throw myself a living wake. My end of life doula studies required that I consider how I want my end of life to proceed, so I had already envisioned a living wake, should I have a diagnosis – rather than an unexpected departure. However, I had not considered writing something for myself. I have written something for those I leave behind, actually. So… this feels like something that can be added to the book I started writing last year, on that topic.

I’m going to save that for another day between now and our final gathering, next week. I sure hope I can do her justice. She deserves to be seen by her own heart and soul, the way that others see her. May it be so.

Thank you for walking this path with me. It has been quite an unexpected journey.

Expressive Arts – Week Five (body, spirit, mind) The Landscape of Me

Check Your Treasure

Yesterday was a day of service and recovery. My sweet 81 year old Pop had an early morning appointment to FINALLY have the entropion on his left eye repaired. It developed one day while he was in rehab last November. I walked in for our nightly visit, and he looked like he had pink-eye. But when I took a closer look, I could see that his eye lashes were rubbing against his cornea.

In my past life, I was paid to assist the needs of executives. It was stressful work, at times, but there were perks, too. For one thing, if my executive wanted something done, I could reach out to others and say, “the Chief ‘whatever’ Officer, wants this done immediately!”, and it would get done immediately. In my new life… there is very little power. I tell doctors, hospitals, rehab facilities, etc. that my 81 year old father needs something immediately, and after five months of suffering and struggle… we might be lucky enough to bring one nightmare to conclusion. It’s maddening, really.

So, yesterday, though mornings are difficult for him, we were both up by 5:15am to get the day started. We had to report to the eye institute by 6:45am. We were there 30 minutes early. We were NOT going to let anything get in the way of getting this done. Since it started, he says that he feels like there is a fishnet hanging over his left eye. It impedes his vision and his balance. He didn’t really need any help with the balance thing. He has neuropathy from toes to knees in both legs, and severe weakness on his entire left side from 80 years of epilepsy related nerve damage. WTF Universe? Don’t you think he’s had enough to deal with in this lifetime? Sheesh!

This morning, I was out of the house by 6:30am to make a store-run for provisions. I walked into my parents’ house and stocked the bathroom with my father’s needs, put a few breakfast burritos in the freezer, refilled his water cup, placed an ice pack on his bruised and swollen eye, turned out the light, and slipped back out the door.

These moments of tenderness never cease to surprise me. I chose not to have children, and while I have loved my goddess babies deeply, it was never mine, to feel this particular sense of affection, patience, devotion, and care. Indeed, at times, supporting my father is like taking care of a child. He has tiny temper tantrums for the frustration of his body not cooperating with what his mind is asking. He grumbles under his breath about how my mother doesn’t wear her hearing aids. Sometimes I have to remind his inner grouch that it is not easy, for mom or for me, to do all that is required to keep him safe and at home. “So, be nice!”

But then there are the moments like this morning, or when I am helping him wash his hair or put on his socks with the grippy soles, and brushing the hair out of his eyes… I get an overwhelming sense that this must be how mothering feels. This must be the contented-heart reason for all that mothers choose to endure.

It occurred to me the other day, that I won’t stay in retirement forever. The workshops that I am facilitating are enormously fulfilling, as they feed all five of my strengths (empathy, connectedness, responsibility, developer, input), they offer me a creative outlet in the design and execution, and they give me a place to put all of the spiritual growth and self-healing work I’ve done over the last 27 years, for the benefit of others. But at this moment, I can’t see clearly how to mold this work into financially sustaining work. So, I am believing that the Universe will deliver the guide, the means, the opportunity, when the time is right. And for now… my priority remains the care and comfort of my parents, with the added bonus of ample time for nurturing the love that resides within.

I couldn’t be more grateful for all that has transpired in order to make all of this possible. I spoke to my friend Brian yesterday, while out on an errand to have dad’s glasses repaired. He was calling to check-in. To tell me that, despite his terminal diagnosis, he is doing well. He is ‘Marie Kondo-ing’ his home (much to his husband’s shagrin), and practicing extreme self-care. As I filled him in on my world, he reminded me how happy he was that I left that toxic workplace. He wanted to be sure that I was living my joy! He considers me to be the most important catalyst for his new beginning… devoting all of his remaining days to HIS joy. I carry Brian with me through all of my days. He has been my teacher, as much as I for him.

Getting to be fully present for my parents right now is my joy. Being blessed to have friends, old and new, join me on a journey of personal growth, healing, and development for a year-long series of workshops is my joy. Quality time with loved ones is my joy. Having the gift of words to share with you is my joy. Being awake and aware of the many synchronicities and blessings that fall before me on a daily basis is my joy.

Though my income may be only a fraction of what it once was (technically, it is my savings – already hard earned), I feel richer today than ever before. The relationships that bless my life are more valuable than gold and diamonds. I can see clearly that every one of these blessings are finite, and I shall not take a single one for granted.

This reminds me of the conversation that concluded my visit with my soul daughter on Monday. She had come over from St. Pete for an appointment, and made time with me a priority. She had also connected with friends from a former workplace, but when it was time for her to meet with them, there was no immediate reply. While I knew that I would always adjust my plans to include seeing people I care about, she was figuring out (at 23) that she was not willing to sacrifice her precious time for those who do not make her a priority. At this young age, she has already figured out that she is meant to be treasured. I’ll confess that it took me a bit longer.

It’s never too late to check your treasure, dear ones. Take a look around you now. Who do you see? Remind yourself of the great bounty you possess. Then… go out there and live your joy! Thank you for walking this path with me. I’m so happy you are here.

Original Artwork by the Writer

Once Upon a Time…

Last week’s Expressive Arts evening was amazing. We gathered in a circle and selected the next photo from our personal history, and placed her in the center. With our younger selves before us, we were invited to give her a nickname. You know… if you were able to give your inner maiden a name, rather than a name given to her by others… what would it be?

I looked at the photo of little Missy, right around the age she would be preparing to go to kindergarten, and the name that rose to mind, inspired by her tanned skin and nearly white hair, bleached by the sun… was Desert Moon Flower. We introduced our younger selves to our sacred circle, and we danced to the glory of her existence.

We then spent some time with a technique called touch drawing. I consider myself to be well-gifted in the art of writing, but not so much in other mediums, but let me tell you… this form of art was seriously fun, and gradually… liberating. It involved oil paint rolled out on a slick surface, with tissue paper gently placed on top. Then, touching the paper, however you were moved, and pealing it up to reveal your creation. I made eleven. One of which you will find below.

Our homework for this week was to finish a story. All we were given was… “Once upon a time”. So, here it is…

Once upon a time, there was a young maiden whose skin was darkened and freckled, with hair bleached nearly white by the radiance of her heart, which shone like the sun. They called her Missy, but I knew her as Desert Moon Flower.

She loved deeply and trusted everyone. One of her strengths was to see the good in others, and that was the seed that grew into unconditional love.

She roamed the neighborhood on her yellow bicycle with training wheels (which made her feel just a little more courageous than she really was), while wearing a faded red bathing suit, in which she felt as confident as Wonder Woman, even without bracelets of submission. On her travels, she would befriend those she met. To each, she offered kindness, compassion, and friendship. To be sure, there were villains in this story, but she eventually figured out the truth… that those who could not accept her offerings simply lacked the blessing of a life experience that taught them that kindness could be genuine and worthy o f trust. They learned to bully their way through every meeting to avoid the humiliation of betrayal. They learned to hurt others in hopes of not being hurt themselves.

Unfortunately, the villains were many and persistent. But instead of teaching Desert Moon Flower that she should hurt others before they could hurt her… she learned to hurt herself, so they wouldn’t have to. She never stopped offering kindness, compassion, and friendship to others… but she did stop offering it to herself. The bullies were her best teachers. They taught her what it felt like to receive cold, prickly energy from others, and that she would refuse to allow others to receive it from her. So, she internalized it all. Better to hold it in than to let it out and wound another. It’s too bad the lesson was lost on her… if someone shows you how not to behave towards others… why on earth would you behave that way toward yourself?

As the years passed, Desert Moon Flower gradually dimmed her light, and her skin grew pale and her freckles faded… her hair darkened and dulled. She witnessed her body changing over time, and instead of being her friend, she became her bully. She put away the faded red bathing suit with bitterness and shame. She faced the mirror and chastised her body for all it was not – she had offered compassion to others, but kept none for herself.

She was a friend to many, no matter their social status, but she was never a friend to herself.

As she stood in the mirror and told herself she was fat and ugly, her body complied… for a while, only in her mind, but with persistence… her body manifested extra pounds as if to say, “Okay, I believe you!”

Over the years, Desert Moon Flower gathered friends into a sacred bouquet, nurtured by her attention and fresh water, but decades would pass before she would realize that she deserved the same care.

At age 50, Desert Moon Flower is still offering kindness, compassion, and friendship to others, but what has changed is that she now offers the same to her own reflection.

You may not see her riding through the neighborhood in a red bathing suit, but you may see her dancing with the wind as she attends nature’s nightly sermons. You can tell that her inner light has returned, as the hair at her temples has been bleached white and though her skin is still pale, it is in reflection of the moonlight in which she lovingly bathes, which caresses with adoration, every curve of her beautiful, beloved, sacred body. If you see her, trust that you will have a good friend in her, and don’t be afraid when her light grows to illuminate and reveal your own glorious truth. That you, too, are lovable, beautiful, and worthy. Desert Moon Flower is still out there, and she can’t wait to see you shine!

This is where the writing stops (for now), but it is definitely not the end. For Desert Moon Flower, as for all of us, every day brings rebirth, so…

The beginning…

Thank you for walking this path with me. This week’s session is dedicated to seventeen year old Missy. I can’t wait to see what healing awaits, can you?

Desert Moon Flower, Age 5, on touch drawing titled, “The Lap of the Goddess”

Soulmates and the Wounded Healer

Tonight, the moon is full and Chiron, the wounded healer, is moving into Aries. I’ve been thinking about the role of soulmates in our personal journey. Contrary to the popular belief that a soulmate is the one person with whom you are meant to spend your life, my experience is far more broad.

A soulmate, to me, is someone who reaches into your soul to expose a deeper truth about yourself, to help you find your authentic self, to learn how to overcome your self-established limitations, a pathfinder or way-shower for your internal navigation system to grow and become who you were always meant to be.

While the idealized version of soulmate as life-partner may represent the one person who comes into your life to share it and to love you without condition as you grow old together, consider that perhaps that person who broke your heart at age 20 was also a soulmate. Maybe that unfaithful SOB was the catalyst for your lifelong journey to becoming your own best friend. A far more important role than spouse or partner.

What a glorious gift it is to review old wounds and declare those who made us feel abandoned or betrayed, hurt or angry, confused or lost, no longer mistakes and poor choices, but important and necessary life-partners, dedicated to the further evolution of our souls.

This acknowledgment changes everything!

It takes us out of the role of victim and into the role of student. Every ‘poor choice’, failed relationship, and deep regret in our lives is actually part one of our education in becoming. Part two comes when we recognize the patterns in our lives, as similar ‘lessons’ come around again. In other words… same soulmate – different skin.

One of the gifts offered to me by an intuitive coach I’ve worked with in recent years is learning to interpret the wisdom language of our bodies. We don’t have to be psychic to receive messages from our higher selves… we just need to be mindful of how we feel in our skin. She suggested that when we are feeling extreme emotions, that we consider if we’ve felt this way before, and what was happening in our lives at that time.

I believe the soulmate connection can be recognized in a similar way.

When we are being triggered by someone’s behavior, and it reminds us of a past wound inflicted by another… we may just have before us another soulmate. The key to healing is to acknowledge this trigger, and when you feel that you should cut this person out of your life, because they are sure to harm you as you have been harmed before… take courage, and stay!

I don’t mean to stay in an unhealthy relationship, of course. I mean to take this opportunity to stand up and speak your truth. Write or say aloud the words you didn’t have the courage or chance to speak the first time due to the depth of emotion involved. Then… allow the opportunity for a reply. If you recognize the response to be more of the same, by all means… cut and run. But imagine that the reply received is exactly what you needed to hear from your original offender? Whether this person stays in your life and honors your hurts and fears with an intention that heals, or if they have nothing to offer and depart with haste… by speaking your truth, you have won!

I once lost a friend because we stopped trusting one another. As an Aquarius, this does not happen to me often. I tend to collect friends from diverse areas of connectedness, and even when we are not close physically or emotionally, love and mutual respect and care remains a constant between us.

There were so many great lessons in this huge loss. They were at once excruciating and liberating, life altering in every way. We put each other on pedestals which brought one of us to a sense of shame which blocked authenticity and the other to heartbreak in the loss of truth and disappointment in herself for being deemed untrustworthy.

Since we have never reconciled I can only speak for my own regrets and gratitudes. I learned so much. For example, shame is the most destructive emotion there is. If we cannot trust those we love with our truth, they do not deserve us. And if we alter the truth to avoid disappointing those we love, we risk damaging the trust we once held. Also, pedestals are for art, not people.

As we were moving through this ‘break-up’, the feeling that overwhelmed me the most was confusion. It was as if my logical mind could not make sense of what was happening. I felt victimized the way a safe driver feels as the shattered glass comes flying in an accident that was unexpected and beyond her control. I was confused by my feelings of hurt, while understanding completely that the accident was caused by her own hurting. Meanwhile, the questions inside my head were so exhausting that I emotionally shut down.

I know that what I needed most was something she could not give, for the sheer overwhelm of her own circumstance. I needed patience and understanding through the madness, and devotion to rebuilding trust. The way that I felt and behaved helped me to understand the actions of others who have been betrayed or lied to by someone they love. It’s a kind of madness, really. That deep soul confusion that sets in when you realize that things aren’t really as they seemed. It is the ultimate identity crisis… as you begin to question everything to determine how you could be so unworthy of honesty. I did not like who I became with the story I had created in my head because of the information I had missed for its withholding. I loathe drama, and it felt like a soap opera from which I needed an exit.

Fast forward a few years, and I had grown very close to someone else with whom a situation had risen that made me feel confused in a similar way. There was no breach of trust or sense of betrayal, but most likely the fear of abandonment. Like I said… logic struggles to find the surface, but confusion just drags it downward. What was different was that this soulmate was able to offer what I needed to heal that old wound. She was patient and understanding, even when my fears were unfounded. She was steadfast and empathetic. She stood by me until I came through my dark night of the soul, and back into the light. She was my torchbearer. We have been blessed to take turns being the wounded healer for one another for the past seven years. There are no pedestals, though there are probably a few fluffy pillows here and there.

Recently, a perfect stranger triggered something from an old wound in a different part of my soul. At first, the way my body felt about this unsolicited conversation through social media was identified as a red flag. It reminded me of how I felt in an interaction with someone from years back that was a real disappointment to me.

Getting to know new people when seeking friendship or more can be complicated, and it is exacerbated when Chiron is in the 10th house of your astrological natal chart. You have learned to put the needs of others before your own. All you really want is to be accepted by others, and you might be prone to compromise yourself toward that endeavor.

At the point that I decided I would end this conversation – unwilling to be compromised, I received a reply. The reply invited me to speak my truth, and it was heard, received, and validated. What I learned, as I fearlessly expressed myself was that I was no longer seeking someone else’s acceptance. I have learned to accept myself. And so, another soulmate enters my life, if only for a moment, and lights a torch. In the golden flame’s glow, I can see my own reflection, and I like what I see.

There’s a whole crew of spirit guides illuminated by the love in their hearts for me and they are cheering me on. They know that each wound brought to the surface for treatment is finally able to heal. When we are no longer bleeding out, we break free from the ties that bind, and finally… WE RISE!