Tuesday, Feb. 3rd - After the Journey Intensive Weekend

Sweet friends,


We got back really late last night, and even though I had taken it slow, I was pretty tired. We had met Sophia in front of her new apartment on Thompson Street in Soho, and Jimmy and Constantin carried the contents of two cars up to the fifth floor. What a cute place!! Very small, but totally charming.

I only walked up once and stayed there to unpack some of the items from their wrapped state.

Afterwards we took her to Ikea to get some more of the necessary big items she needs, and even though I sat down a lot in between, that was a bit exhausting. We had it all delivered, so no more schlepping of heavy stuff up the stairs. It all just took so long, we didn't end up leaving the city until after 7:00.

The Journey Intensive itself was really quite amazing.
It was a small event, probably due to the bad economy, we were more trainers than participants... But, oh the amount of love and support and advice, and good wishes was huge! What wonderful people, what an extraordinary group of people have merged in this larger northeastern area to do this work! It feels like another soft cocoon of loving care I fell into this weekend.

Now, my two journeys were really powerful and interesting, and quite intense. They have provided more insight as to what I have been storing in these two cysts.

If you are interested here is a description:

In the first journey we went into each cyst separately to see what was present in them. The fluid one, which is also the one that has the slight chance of being cancerous, initially felt like something on hold and quiet, almost dormant, but beneath that I started to hear this tiny little scream: "I can't do this!!!" and with that came a flood of despair and sense of failure, a huge amount of emotional energy that emptied itself out through my whole body, no memory... and then a resting and a relief.

In the second cyst I felt something very different: a restlessness, a blind doing with a relentless summoning of effort. That one had words too: "I have to, I have to, I have to, I have to..." in constant repetition. And beneath that one a huge wave of anger that came out with some foul language: "Why the fuck can't you leave me alone?!" - Wow. No memory here either. ... and after this too had emptied itself out, again a resting and a sense of ease.

The memory itself came later, through a presence of doubt: "Can it really be this easy? Can you just live without effort and trying hard and failing a lot along the way?" It took me back to when I was two years old. We lived in Brussels at the time and my mother had a juicer in the kitchen which she liked to use for making fresh carrot, apple and beet juice. That day she had put me next to her on the counter and as I was sitting there, I heard the humm of the juicer, watched with fascination the juice come out of the spout and mesmerized by this magical machine, I stuck my little middle finger into the only opening I could see, which was the vent on the side where the blade was rotating. It cut off part of the tip of my finger. My mother had to rush me to the hospital where it was sewn up.

I had taken on a whole bunch of conclusions and beliefs from this experience. How lucky we are that we can remove such old baggage!

And finally source itself. I don't right now recall how exactly I arrived there, only the image and consciousness of it: an experience of everything penetrated by something that was hard to name... the closest description was a jubilant love. I was as if everything, even the smallest inanimate object was made up of it, visible in a sparkling glow that looked a bit like millions of tiny embers, or light filled crystals under the surface. Everything is filled with this, there is no difference, whether that is a cyst in my body, a piece of garbage on the street, a fruit in my hand, or an event taking place... the life force that fills it all has that same quality... more can be said how this jubilant love responded to all the previous layers in the journey...
... but it is getting late and I want to get it out.

Patrice is waiting for a return call... my stomach is waiting for a bit more food... and you may be waiting to hear from me.

I will write more later today.

with love and much gratitude...
Tomma