Monday, 5/27/09
I had a realization today.
In the car on my way to the city.
I don't recall what triggered this succession of thoughts. But they are important and I will try to recreate them here.
There are several experiences that came together like a mosaic, to allow me to arrive at this new realization.
The first one was the news that one of my German clients had died. Rose had still been young, in her thirties, mother of a small child and she was suffering from a recurring form of colon cancer. When she came to me a year and a half ago, the medical world had told her that she should put her things into order, because there was nothing much they could do for her. Yet she had felt this surge of conviction that she could make it through this third bout of cancer. I had only been able to work with her twice, in between I had been wondering whether I should have given her firmer assignments, whether I should have been more demanding in her using the Journeywork more often during the months while I could not be in Germany. Would it have made a difference? Who knows.
I was convinced, because I knew by example, that it was possible for one Journey to turn around any health situation - IF it hit the target. And over the years I had been waiting for an opportunity to "show off" with such a case of my own. Humbly and a little embarrassed I have to admit this now: I was looking to show off - with the best intention of course, because I believed that if I had only one spectacular case under my belt of somebody who got healed when there had been no hope, or of some condition that got turned around when nothing else had helped, that that would finally start to spread the word faster and farther than I had been able to on my own.
So, somewhat unconsciously, what I had been looking for was a situation with some public attention to show the power of the effect of the Journey, I was really still trying to demonstrate the power of healing, by delivering an undeniable proof of the result of doing this work. And the result to me was health returned, an illness conquered, a condition relieved. And while I did have lots of "smaller" successes in that way, I was never led to a situation where I had been able deliver the Journey as the cause for a major impressive victory. Victory. That was what success looked like to me. So in a way I had failed with Rose, even though the Journey brought her something she valued, though it may have even extended her life. I had failed too with William Ward, even though I only saw him once and rather briefly because he was already pretty weak. I had failed even with Alex Ballinger, because I hadn't been persistent enough to get in touch with her, and so I hadn't succeeded in at least creating a chance for myself to help her. Not all of that was there as a conscious thought in my head, but the taste of that feeling was present when I thought about Rose as I was driving down the Taconic Parkway.
And yesterday...yesterday I had gotten a letter from another client in Germany who I have worked with three times over the past years. She wrote that she had been diagnosed with tumors in her lymph tissue. That she wanted to work with me on this issue and was looking forward to seeing me again. She had decided against a medical path and, yes, she was scared. Translucent light green clouds of budding trees were streaming by outside my car window, as I remembered what I responded to her. It is a response I would not have given in the past. I wrote back saying that my first suggestion would be to examine if it really has to be an either or decision, if it might not be possible to include mainstream medicine in her healing process. That more than anything I believed this was about listening to her body, to ask her body who and where she could feel safe with, and if there were difficult decisions to be made she could imagine an image of each of the possible decisions and then merge each one of them into her body and check what that felt like.
Listening to our body. I had in fact just reminded Jimmy of that two days ago. He is down in Florida again for the big air show "Sun and Fun" - working really hard, running around on the airstrip during the day, sun beating down on the crowds, making connections and lining up photo shoots and then getting up at 6 every day to be in the air with the soft morning light, and often again in the evening. After a couple of days he is worn out, his voice so tired at night... but he wants to take every opportunity to schedule more work, and be able to deliver the written stories right away to the magazine too. So I had to remind him to stop. To say NO. To listen to his body. To not wear himself out... for what? To take a nap when his body is calling out like this. Wasn't that what we both had learned during the past months? Sure enough, yesterday he gave in and slept 4 hours straight in the middle of the day. Thank God!
Listening to our body. Maybe that was a major ability I needed to teach my clients from now on? Just as important as doing the Journey itself? It was, wasn't it? That's how I had learned what I needed to learn on my healing path. That's how I had made many of the major decisions.
Listening to our body and being open to discovering something new. Yes. That was the other big thing hat had happened. In the beginning I thought I knew where this path was going to lead me. I had expected to heal my body with the Journey and maybe other natural healing tools and to deliver my own proof of the power of this work. And then I had to experience that that's not what it was about. Had the Journey healed my body? No. But had it been the tool to help me understand what this passage was really about? Yes! And... had my body healed in the end? Yes, absolutely.
Discovering something new. Yes, that was the second piece. And this too should be an essential part of everybody's healing process. It makes sense doesn't it? After all if what we know and do and believe and understand so far contained the ingredients to help our body heal, it would have done that already. Just as Brandon discovered something totally new when she found the Journey, we too need to expect that there is something different out there for us to integrate into our lives, something we had not known before, not in it's fullness.
Our body is nothing but the messenger. Our illness is nothing but the doorbell ringing to let this messenger talk to us.
The is somewhat how the new awareness arrived in my thinking consciousness. And by the time I was crossing the bridge over the Croton Reservoir, the rosy sunset sky reflecting like liquid gold in the still water, filling the air like a soft haze that made you want to stop and touch it... this realization was there with utter clarity:
"As a healer I am not here to help your body heal. That can not be our primary goal. It is not our job to conquer your illness either.
Rather I am here to help you welcome this messenger and find out what your body and your life is trying to tell you. Your illness or your physical condition is not here trying to defeat you, it is not an error or a failure that it has arrived in your life; on the contrary it is here to help you discover something you have not be able to notice on your own, a different way of seeing, of understanding and living life. The success of any interaction between us therefore is not that the illness will disappear, but that you will reach an expanded, liberated and truer way of living your life. And most likely your body repairs itself or lets itself be repaired in the process."
Friday, 4/24/09
Oh, it is a glorious spring day outside. The kitchen door is open, the warm air is entering the house. The crocuses are long gone, the daffodils are past their peak and the tulips are starting to show the first hints of color in their green budding blossoms. The grass soon will need cutting. Bird voices float through the air again, everywhere. The trees are still bare and so the house is bright with sunlight, like at no other time of year.
I have slowly, bit by bit, raked and picked more leaves off the flowerbeds. I have done this almost leisurely, without any deadline pressure, stopped before finishing all of it and might not ever do more this year, liking that.
Amongst all this reawakening of life it feels odd to talk about death.
Last weekend I went to a funeral on Shelter Island. "Dad", as I would still call him in my mind, had passed away, 4 days after my surgery. I only was his daughter for 11 months, 32 years ago, when I stayed as an exchange student with him, his wife and four children. I hadn't know he was so ill. I hadn't even seen him in probably 10 or 12 years. I wasn't so close to him, and yet there was a sadness, yet I shed some heavy tears when I saw my brother and sisters speak about him from the pulpit in that little presbyterian Church. Life gone. Irreversibly. That day too, had been beautiful and sunny.
Three days ago my mother told me she believes she would not live that much longer. How she arrived at this conviction is a bigger story, and may be told another time. She is very certain about this. It didn't shock me to hear her say that, because I didn't believe her, it really just didn't feel right, as if this was clearly an error. Maybe I am too attached to her being around, even as far away as she is in Hamburg, that I could feel this out with enough neutrality to get a more accurate sense of the truth? Possible. But then she has given false alarm before. Why not again now? I sat with it for a while.
Yesterday I returned after a long break to my Buddhist study and meditation group. Lilia is standing by the stove stirring up some tea to make her delicious chai from scratch. She puts a book in my hand and says: I've been studying this with Susan, will you read to me while I finish making the chai? She opens up the chapter they are in: "Preparing for death, the Bardo stages of dying". (!...) Some synchronicity.
After reading I mention this coincidence. Lilia thinks I need to go to Bardor Tulku Rinpoche, after all he wrote this book that landed in my hands today, and ask him to pray, once it happens. To ensure her soul gets the ultimate highest opening and guidance for this transition onto the highest possible rebirth. Actually to have him pray for a long and healthy life first, but to be ready, just in case. It so happens there is an anniversary celebration tomorrow in Red Hook for the new monastery he is building. Wow. Everything she says kind of makes sense. Is that really what I want to do though? I don't get a clear answer from within one way or the other. Not for a whole day. Mami too doesn't really care whether I put this bid in for her or not, as long as it works for me.
Finally today I called the number on the pamphlet. A Tibetan monk answers and happily agrees to everything I ask for, until I realize he doesn't really understand at all what I am talking about. He gives me another number, but no one is there. I could just go and see what happens.
This morning Mami sounded so well on the phone, her voice so clear and strong. Her cough is almost gone, her strength has returned so much faster than she would have thought possible, she too has been in her garden, working alongside the rising juices of spring, surprised at how much she got done. Her conviction though remains unchanged. She thinks she might not make it through the summer. Not into the winter anyway. My siblings have no idea about any of it. Not yet.
I am surprised how calm I am. I think about it and talk to her without any inner drama. It feels curiously non-uncomfortable. Maybe because I can't really imagine it will happen so soon? But then I have considered she may be right...
The Buddhists really think of death as nothing but a passage into the next life. One we have made soo often since the beginning of time. They say if all the bodies we have ever lived in were all piled up, it would make a mountain taller than the highest one on earth. I do find that hard to imagine. And also: If we only remembered all that, death would seem like nothing more than going to sleep at night, when you know you'll wake up the next day. That of course makes total sense.
Saturday 4/25/09
I decided I would go to Redhook even without an interview lined up. I wrote a short letter making my request, printed out a picture of my parents, and wrote out a 60 dollar donation check. I surely would be able to give this to someone there.
When I arrive, nicely early by 30 minutes, in order to get one of the good seats right in front near the Rinpoche, I am greeted by two monks in the driveway. The house is small, and overlooks the empty building shell, shining through a stand of elm trees, that will become the monastery. Behind it rise the blue outlines of the Catskill mountains. Curiously there are no seats to reserve in the living room, people just wander about somewhat aimlessly, so I sit down outside on the entrance steps to call Jimmy. People are coming in in bigger droves now. A couple is taking off their shoes next to me. The young monk who had greeted me in the driveway starts chatting with them, and suddenly I hear him say: "There was a woman who wanted to have an interview, I hope she can get here early enough." What did he just...?... oh my God, that must be me!! I turn around, smile at him with utter surprise and jump up. Wow. He smiles too, happy. I am literally flabbergasted."Oh, that was you I talked to yesterday?! I though you hadn't understood me! I can see the Rinpoche?" He nods more smiles: "Yes, yes, please. Please follow."
And that's how life took care of me, not letting me miss my appointment. Well done.
On my way to his private chamber, I incidentally saw that the meditation room was upstairs, and did have cushions set up, so I was able to reserve a seat after all.
The Rinpoche shook my hand with kind eyes, nodded with a little smile upon hearing Lilia's name, listened to my little story, nodded knowingly, took Mami's picture, yes, of course he will pray, slipped it into a shelf right next to him, then my letter and the donation envelope too... and then I was done.
Afterward, on my way back over to our schools senior project presentations, with ample amounts of blessed and lovingly cooked food in my belly, and memories of several friendly and interested conversations with new people I met, I wondered whether this Buddhist community might be one of the "other", "bigger" groups I would get connected to. Maybe that was the real purpose leading me there today? Who knows.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Hormone Creams, Anger and Apple Cider Vinegar
This is the more technical update.
Hot flashes.
I never expected those to show up in my life. No really. I never had any PMS, cramps, mood swings, or any of that "female" stuff, and I assumed that would mean I'd get to skip all the troubles with menopause too. Not so. Not that they are bad. I understand that I am suffering from pretty mild forms of them, and yet they are hitting me with a harsh suddenness and are uncomfortable enough to get my full attention.
I know some of you have been through them, right? I remember Carol tearing off her sweater with that distinct urgency I now understand, more than once.
But, really, what the heck are these????
Why do our bodies need to produce all this heat? What exactly is happening inside of us when that goes on? I want a diagram of the chemical reactions, please! Oh, I am sure I could look this up on the internet, but I have been too lazy. No, that is actually not the right word any longer. I have chosen to honor other priorities that were part of my physical healing.
At this point I have been on estrogen and progesterone creams for 25 days. The flashes started about 5 days prior to that. Not much of a difference, as far as I remember the beginning.
I am hearing from some people it can take up to six months until the bioidentical hormone mix has been adjusted to fit the exact needs of the body... then they do go away.
I am also hearing, from Beth at the center in Delmar, that it is not always a question of the hormones, that it is also a question of the emotions. Wow! Hadn't heard that before. Yes, especially emotions in the realm of anger. Ohhhhh - ANGER!
Well, that means something to me. It means something to me as the 9 personality type in the enneagram. We 9s are the ones who want to avoid feelings of anger at any cost. We can't help it, we have been wired that way, we'd rather swallow our pride, deny our truth, stay silent, or go comatose than cause anger in the people around us, let alone feel it ourselves. I have come a long way, I mean, a looooooong way in liberating myself from this fixation... but who knows what is still in there??? That was my immediate thought when Beth mentioned it.
She felt I might even be able to access the emotion that is hiding in a flash when it comes, just by welcoming it... and that sounded great, much like journeywork, yeah I would try that!!!... but, no, I couldn't find anything. Maybe I am not doing it quite right, but the flash is so strong and so immediate and so physical, if there is an emotion, it slips through my investigative fingers like a fish in the water, whoops, gone, ooops, gone again, impossible to hold on to anything.
Meditation Mantra. That sounded great too. Om na ma shivaya. I had been chanting that in Uwe's Yoga class for years. She feels it is the practicing of deliberate focusedness for the mind. If done regularly in the morning, it sets the tone for the entire day. And then reciting it when the flash comes, it could immediately link me back into that free expansiveness in which a hot flash no longer thrives. So, admittedly I have not been able to do THAT. I have been repeating the mantra whenever a flash comes, and at night that does seem to help to go back to sleep again a little faster. I recite it during the day too, whenever it comes to my mind and that is several times... I even repeat the mantra on most days when I first wake up in the morning, but do I sit and practice for at least 10 minutes? EVERY day? No. So maybe this doesn't count as not working... it gets a maybe.
Last week when I had three flashes in a row, still in bed, right in the morning, Jimmy said:"I am going to look this up now, on earthclinic!" and whipped out his i-phone. This has become one of his favorite morning activities; still in bed, the i-phone is launched within seconds from it's resting spot on the bedside table. Important e-mail messages, weather reports, hang gliding blogs, or medical research.. you name it... a constant source of joy when he can find all this information right there at his fingertips... literally.
And earthclinic is one of his favorite sites... and because it really IS a great site, I'll give you the link right here. http://earthclinic.com/ When you go to the "ailments" tab, you can look up anything you are suffering from, and you'll get a list of the most successful home remedies people have reported on. Complete with testimonials. Check it out. Now, what you'll find is that at the top of most conditions that can be bothersome in a human body, it will give you apple cider vinegar as the top ranking remedy. So Jimmy was joking when he said, now they will recommend apple cider vinegar to you too. And lo and behold that is exactly what he found. 16 "Yea" Reports, way more than anything else, some of them stunning. No "Nay"s at all.
So, I started on ACV too. Twice a day. And while we do know that it is great for almost every single function and system in the body, it didn't really make a difference in the hot flashes either. ( I guess I should send in a "Nay"...)
This last weekend at the Journey in NJ, I thought I'll use the the physical journey exchange to find the root of the flashes. It took me to my marriage with Constantin. All the arguments we ever had. All the feelings of not being understood in the core of my soul, of being seen as something I was not... all the pain of separateness as it was becoming more and more evident, and all the ways I myself had contributed to that. Cleared that up. Cried a lot of old tears. Forgave and have been forgiven. Ahhh, yes, it does feel good. Will it help with the flashes? We'll see.
Hot flashes.
I never expected those to show up in my life. No really. I never had any PMS, cramps, mood swings, or any of that "female" stuff, and I assumed that would mean I'd get to skip all the troubles with menopause too. Not so. Not that they are bad. I understand that I am suffering from pretty mild forms of them, and yet they are hitting me with a harsh suddenness and are uncomfortable enough to get my full attention.
I know some of you have been through them, right? I remember Carol tearing off her sweater with that distinct urgency I now understand, more than once.
But, really, what the heck are these????
Why do our bodies need to produce all this heat? What exactly is happening inside of us when that goes on? I want a diagram of the chemical reactions, please! Oh, I am sure I could look this up on the internet, but I have been too lazy. No, that is actually not the right word any longer. I have chosen to honor other priorities that were part of my physical healing.
At this point I have been on estrogen and progesterone creams for 25 days. The flashes started about 5 days prior to that. Not much of a difference, as far as I remember the beginning.
I am hearing from some people it can take up to six months until the bioidentical hormone mix has been adjusted to fit the exact needs of the body... then they do go away.
I am also hearing, from Beth at the center in Delmar, that it is not always a question of the hormones, that it is also a question of the emotions. Wow! Hadn't heard that before. Yes, especially emotions in the realm of anger. Ohhhhh - ANGER!
Well, that means something to me. It means something to me as the 9 personality type in the enneagram. We 9s are the ones who want to avoid feelings of anger at any cost. We can't help it, we have been wired that way, we'd rather swallow our pride, deny our truth, stay silent, or go comatose than cause anger in the people around us, let alone feel it ourselves. I have come a long way, I mean, a looooooong way in liberating myself from this fixation... but who knows what is still in there??? That was my immediate thought when Beth mentioned it.
She felt I might even be able to access the emotion that is hiding in a flash when it comes, just by welcoming it... and that sounded great, much like journeywork, yeah I would try that!!!... but, no, I couldn't find anything. Maybe I am not doing it quite right, but the flash is so strong and so immediate and so physical, if there is an emotion, it slips through my investigative fingers like a fish in the water, whoops, gone, ooops, gone again, impossible to hold on to anything.
Meditation Mantra. That sounded great too. Om na ma shivaya. I had been chanting that in Uwe's Yoga class for years. She feels it is the practicing of deliberate focusedness for the mind. If done regularly in the morning, it sets the tone for the entire day. And then reciting it when the flash comes, it could immediately link me back into that free expansiveness in which a hot flash no longer thrives. So, admittedly I have not been able to do THAT. I have been repeating the mantra whenever a flash comes, and at night that does seem to help to go back to sleep again a little faster. I recite it during the day too, whenever it comes to my mind and that is several times... I even repeat the mantra on most days when I first wake up in the morning, but do I sit and practice for at least 10 minutes? EVERY day? No. So maybe this doesn't count as not working... it gets a maybe.
Last week when I had three flashes in a row, still in bed, right in the morning, Jimmy said:"I am going to look this up now, on earthclinic!" and whipped out his i-phone. This has become one of his favorite morning activities; still in bed, the i-phone is launched within seconds from it's resting spot on the bedside table. Important e-mail messages, weather reports, hang gliding blogs, or medical research.. you name it... a constant source of joy when he can find all this information right there at his fingertips... literally.
And earthclinic is one of his favorite sites... and because it really IS a great site, I'll give you the link right here. http://earthclinic.com/ When you go to the "ailments" tab, you can look up anything you are suffering from, and you'll get a list of the most successful home remedies people have reported on. Complete with testimonials. Check it out. Now, what you'll find is that at the top of most conditions that can be bothersome in a human body, it will give you apple cider vinegar as the top ranking remedy. So Jimmy was joking when he said, now they will recommend apple cider vinegar to you too. And lo and behold that is exactly what he found. 16 "Yea" Reports, way more than anything else, some of them stunning. No "Nay"s at all.
So, I started on ACV too. Twice a day. And while we do know that it is great for almost every single function and system in the body, it didn't really make a difference in the hot flashes either. ( I guess I should send in a "Nay"...)
This last weekend at the Journey in NJ, I thought I'll use the the physical journey exchange to find the root of the flashes. It took me to my marriage with Constantin. All the arguments we ever had. All the feelings of not being understood in the core of my soul, of being seen as something I was not... all the pain of separateness as it was becoming more and more evident, and all the ways I myself had contributed to that. Cleared that up. Cried a lot of old tears. Forgave and have been forgiven. Ahhh, yes, it does feel good. Will it help with the flashes? We'll see.
Circles, ever expanding.
This is my first catching up piece.
It is important and it dates back over two weeks now, to April 8th: our last mooncircle, the day before Jimmy's birthday.
Remembering right now how much weaker I felt then, how much slow deliberate effort it took to get the house ready to welcome everyone here, it already seems like eons ago.
We had several highlights waiting for us. There was the exuberant joy of reunion for the Antiguan travelers, complete with the countless bubbles of memories that, depending on the content, ignited sighs of gratitude and awe, waves of giggles or roaring laughter... pictures and little computer-slide-shows documenting the places and special events... giving Annabel and me the feeling of alomost having been there... there was the rich random collection of utterly beautiful dishes for our potluck meal together... there even were rounds of gift giving: tokens of gratitude from Jimmy and me to all of them, tokens of success from her life as a publisher from Annabel to all of us, and tokens of memories from Antigua from Maria and Sarah to everyone... and... there was the "sandpainting", a ritual/creative manifestation piece that Patrice was going to teach us.
Patrice had learned this in her shaman training and found it to be a powerful and fun tool for transformation, so she wanted to pass it on to us.
You basically take a flat tray and fill it with rice or sand or grain and put on it whatever you have in your house and garden that represents in your eyes what it is you want to shift in your life. In that way you create a threedimensional manifestation with stones or shells, ribbons, leaves, twigs, beads or pictures, of how you wish for some thing, person or event to unfold or evolve in your life. She also gave us a bunch of stunning example stories, things that had happened to her after using this, more things that had happened to her teacher, so we were juiced up. Pretty exciting!
A sweet little meditation to allow us to tune into what it was we wanted to play with today made the beginning. As I had no intention or plan of what I was going to use it for, I went into this meditation with a kind of innocent openness. And as she started to speak, I was drawn to look at what the larger outcome of my "cystal" experience might be, drawn to not decide or make something up in my mind, but to let myself be guided to the potential outcome that was offering itself.
And all of a sudden there was a burst of new awareness, a recognition of so much all at once, it will be hard to put it into separate sentences, because there was no sequence to this experience, it hit me all at once like a tidal wave. Within seconds tears of gratitude were running down my face, keeping silent as much as I could, so not to interrupt the meditation for anyone else.
This is what I saw:
There was me, the two cysts outside my body, and I was surrounded by all the women in the mooncircle, and the wave of support, love and connection I had begun to feel during this time was radiating out beyond them. The oneness I had been able to feel, this feeling of nonseparateness, that for me was now most noticeable as the unfamiliar and complete absence of needing to prove myself, needing to earn recognition, needing to find evidence of being valued or loved... needing to do all this stuff, making all this... yes, effort really, in sharing something really moving, or valuable, or insightful, or funny... all these doubts whether I had the right to take up as much time as some of the other women did in circle, whether what I was contributing to the circle was after all not as interesting or meaningful as other women's stuff... all this little nasty debris... all this mental clutter... was now... gone.
All that was there was immense gratitude, love and an unshakable connection. And all this was now ready to expand beyond this circle. It felt like a promise was given to me: I would be able to have this experience with other, more groups of people. Larger and larger ones. Potentially I could feel this connected to the entire world. Oh, my, God! Had I not been wishing for this? Ohhhhhh, how unspeakably beautiful! Living life like that.
When I began to lay down the pieces on my platter (which incidentally was round) I found a couple of little tiny folded paper stars, and for some reason those had to be the first small circle surrounding me (as a fat little seashell, which had been a gift from my sister). I didn't know what they represented, just followed the guidance. Then came the circle of small seashells, 12 of them, one for every moonwoman, then some green stones connecting to the outside rim of black beans and red beans, lots of them, topped by several old tribal beads from Africa and South America. Later a few red Cardinal feathers were added that arched back from the outside rim to myself in the center. Something would return to me, this too a circle closing.
It wasn't until it was my turn to share my discoveries, that I realized the small inner circle of stars stood for my other group, my WOT sisters. Yes, that too was true, wasn't it? This was indeed the first group I had felt safe in, the first group in which I felt seen and unconditionally accepted in, even though I had met these women much later in life than some of my friends in the mooncircle. It was in this group that I had gained the courage in to speak up with more uncomfortable feelings of lack and neediness. It was the springboard from which this amazing experience in my mooncircle had happened. Yes.
Thorough as I am, I counted the puffy little stars: 6 of them. Hmmmm, yet there were 9 of us in our WOT group... oh, but there was me of course in the middle, oh and Mary, of course already represented in the outside circle! that made 8, so: just one star short. How interesting! Well, I guessed maybe the guidance couldn't be expected to be that accurate... and I let it go. Until the next day.
After breakfast I walked by the antiques console in the living room, when my eyes caught a small glimmer of blue, and there: of all things hiding between this and that was: another paper star!! Circle complete.
It is important and it dates back over two weeks now, to April 8th: our last mooncircle, the day before Jimmy's birthday.
Remembering right now how much weaker I felt then, how much slow deliberate effort it took to get the house ready to welcome everyone here, it already seems like eons ago.
We had several highlights waiting for us. There was the exuberant joy of reunion for the Antiguan travelers, complete with the countless bubbles of memories that, depending on the content, ignited sighs of gratitude and awe, waves of giggles or roaring laughter... pictures and little computer-slide-shows documenting the places and special events... giving Annabel and me the feeling of alomost having been there... there was the rich random collection of utterly beautiful dishes for our potluck meal together... there even were rounds of gift giving: tokens of gratitude from Jimmy and me to all of them, tokens of success from her life as a publisher from Annabel to all of us, and tokens of memories from Antigua from Maria and Sarah to everyone... and... there was the "sandpainting", a ritual/creative manifestation piece that Patrice was going to teach us.
Patrice had learned this in her shaman training and found it to be a powerful and fun tool for transformation, so she wanted to pass it on to us.
You basically take a flat tray and fill it with rice or sand or grain and put on it whatever you have in your house and garden that represents in your eyes what it is you want to shift in your life. In that way you create a threedimensional manifestation with stones or shells, ribbons, leaves, twigs, beads or pictures, of how you wish for some thing, person or event to unfold or evolve in your life. She also gave us a bunch of stunning example stories, things that had happened to her after using this, more things that had happened to her teacher, so we were juiced up. Pretty exciting!
A sweet little meditation to allow us to tune into what it was we wanted to play with today made the beginning. As I had no intention or plan of what I was going to use it for, I went into this meditation with a kind of innocent openness. And as she started to speak, I was drawn to look at what the larger outcome of my "cystal" experience might be, drawn to not decide or make something up in my mind, but to let myself be guided to the potential outcome that was offering itself.
And all of a sudden there was a burst of new awareness, a recognition of so much all at once, it will be hard to put it into separate sentences, because there was no sequence to this experience, it hit me all at once like a tidal wave. Within seconds tears of gratitude were running down my face, keeping silent as much as I could, so not to interrupt the meditation for anyone else.
This is what I saw:
There was me, the two cysts outside my body, and I was surrounded by all the women in the mooncircle, and the wave of support, love and connection I had begun to feel during this time was radiating out beyond them. The oneness I had been able to feel, this feeling of nonseparateness, that for me was now most noticeable as the unfamiliar and complete absence of needing to prove myself, needing to earn recognition, needing to find evidence of being valued or loved... needing to do all this stuff, making all this... yes, effort really, in sharing something really moving, or valuable, or insightful, or funny... all these doubts whether I had the right to take up as much time as some of the other women did in circle, whether what I was contributing to the circle was after all not as interesting or meaningful as other women's stuff... all this little nasty debris... all this mental clutter... was now... gone.
All that was there was immense gratitude, love and an unshakable connection. And all this was now ready to expand beyond this circle. It felt like a promise was given to me: I would be able to have this experience with other, more groups of people. Larger and larger ones. Potentially I could feel this connected to the entire world. Oh, my, God! Had I not been wishing for this? Ohhhhhh, how unspeakably beautiful! Living life like that.
When I began to lay down the pieces on my platter (which incidentally was round) I found a couple of little tiny folded paper stars, and for some reason those had to be the first small circle surrounding me (as a fat little seashell, which had been a gift from my sister). I didn't know what they represented, just followed the guidance. Then came the circle of small seashells, 12 of them, one for every moonwoman, then some green stones connecting to the outside rim of black beans and red beans, lots of them, topped by several old tribal beads from Africa and South America. Later a few red Cardinal feathers were added that arched back from the outside rim to myself in the center. Something would return to me, this too a circle closing.
It wasn't until it was my turn to share my discoveries, that I realized the small inner circle of stars stood for my other group, my WOT sisters. Yes, that too was true, wasn't it? This was indeed the first group I had felt safe in, the first group in which I felt seen and unconditionally accepted in, even though I had met these women much later in life than some of my friends in the mooncircle. It was in this group that I had gained the courage in to speak up with more uncomfortable feelings of lack and neediness. It was the springboard from which this amazing experience in my mooncircle had happened. Yes.
Thorough as I am, I counted the puffy little stars: 6 of them. Hmmmm, yet there were 9 of us in our WOT group... oh, but there was me of course in the middle, oh and Mary, of course already represented in the outside circle! that made 8, so: just one star short. How interesting! Well, I guessed maybe the guidance couldn't be expected to be that accurate... and I let it go. Until the next day.
After breakfast I walked by the antiques console in the living room, when my eyes caught a small glimmer of blue, and there: of all things hiding between this and that was: another paper star!! Circle complete.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
And speeding up
I am writing this less for you all to read, I am writing this more for completion sake... and for my more distant blog readers...
I am thinking more and more often that my whole experience might be material for a book, and so I want to keep collecting these little pearls as they happen and keep writing them down... in my mind all of it is starting to take the shape of a long necklace, which right now hangs open and still incomplete somewhere in space, but at some point I expect everything that is still unanswered will have received a response and I will know this story has come full circle and the necklace is ready to be closed. Who knows how long that may take?
As my activities speed up now, I need to be diligent not to loose the continuity between what had happened and what is unfolding day by day.
The last week was so full, I hardly had a moment to catch my breath.
Thursday, as you may remember, was Jimmy's birthday, and we took off in the afternoon to pick up his daughter Jamie at the airport in Boston. We had it all lined up with a super bargain room through priceline at the Hyatt right downtown, a nice birthday dinner with Jamie, a good night sleep and a whole day ahead of us to see the town.
I had been feeling pretty good and much stronger, so I figured I could really do this. And I could, but wow, did I feel like an old woman again. Jimmy and Jamie, genetically matched in their desire and ability to see and do and pack into one day as much as most people would in two, half of the time forgot they had a hobbling old lady in tow, and there where a multitude of little moments when they, happily chatting away, within a couple of steps had left me yards behind them in the dust. Unique experience. More than once my presence forced them to take a taxi, when they would have probably chosen to stay on foot... but, ohhh, was I grateful for those car seats to sink into.
Packed as that day was, we didn't arrive back home until 1:00 am in the morning. By that time I was so worn out that any harsh word or unexpected challenge could have reduced me to tears.... gratefully I was able to sail straight into bed.
Not a whole lot of resting the next day, because I had promised myself I'd go to see the closing gallery talk for Karen's show in the morning (...and was I glad I did!)... and then there was Anina, with less than two days at home, who needed to pack and plan and organize and get herself ready to leave to Berlin on Sunday. Oh my God, these were my last few hours with her?
Sunday itself presented another sizable hurdle, as I had committed to host 10 people for an Easter/Good-Bye-Anina lunch with an obligatory leg of lamb and some vegetarian substitutes for Anina herself. And yes, everyone was very willing to help, but the orchestration and all the last second little this and thats were all in my hand... A bit of an emotional roller coaster of celebrating, immediately and jarringly followed by a flood of departure tears, the private pain of leaving her boyfriend behind, now visible to everyone. It was hard not to start crying right along with her, and heartbreaking to see her so sad... So, let me just say: that day too was A LOT.
Finale to Jamie's visit followed on Monday, and since I had not really been able to spend any more time with her, I had to catch up with that on Monday and participate in a mad dash to see the Sol Lewitt show at MassMoca before rushing back over to Albany to get Jamie on the 2:55pm train to NYC. As details sprinkeled in you can picture us trying to add a breakfast at the Hancock Shaker Village to the schedule, which had to be adjusted, because contrary to their website they do not serve a breakfast there any longer... which tossed us into a diner type operation with an antiseptic ambience north of Pittsfield that served my eggs Florentine with a dash of some nauseating chemical somehwere in the english muffin, ...the plan to leave me at the Clarke, in order to see the Toulouse Lautrec exhibit, because I had already seen Sol Lewitt twice also needed a substitute, since the Clarke is closed on Mondays... and because in spite of yelling as loud as I could, neither one of them heard me in the car driving off... I ended up hobbling all the way to main street to find a cafe to sit down in... and there at least a marzipan roibos tea with a delightful almond biscotti made up for the ill-fated breakfast...
Tuesday was our first day of an empty nest, but that didn't quiet sink in yet, plus I had my very first Journey session scheduled and on that account felt quite back on track with life.
Which brings me to yesterday when I started writing this piece, a day that finally... let... out... a... big... long... sigh... of... a... breath. .......Ahhhh.
Still need to take life a little bit slower.
I am thinking more and more often that my whole experience might be material for a book, and so I want to keep collecting these little pearls as they happen and keep writing them down... in my mind all of it is starting to take the shape of a long necklace, which right now hangs open and still incomplete somewhere in space, but at some point I expect everything that is still unanswered will have received a response and I will know this story has come full circle and the necklace is ready to be closed. Who knows how long that may take?
As my activities speed up now, I need to be diligent not to loose the continuity between what had happened and what is unfolding day by day.
The last week was so full, I hardly had a moment to catch my breath.
Thursday, as you may remember, was Jimmy's birthday, and we took off in the afternoon to pick up his daughter Jamie at the airport in Boston. We had it all lined up with a super bargain room through priceline at the Hyatt right downtown, a nice birthday dinner with Jamie, a good night sleep and a whole day ahead of us to see the town.
I had been feeling pretty good and much stronger, so I figured I could really do this. And I could, but wow, did I feel like an old woman again. Jimmy and Jamie, genetically matched in their desire and ability to see and do and pack into one day as much as most people would in two, half of the time forgot they had a hobbling old lady in tow, and there where a multitude of little moments when they, happily chatting away, within a couple of steps had left me yards behind them in the dust. Unique experience. More than once my presence forced them to take a taxi, when they would have probably chosen to stay on foot... but, ohhh, was I grateful for those car seats to sink into.
Packed as that day was, we didn't arrive back home until 1:00 am in the morning. By that time I was so worn out that any harsh word or unexpected challenge could have reduced me to tears.... gratefully I was able to sail straight into bed.
Not a whole lot of resting the next day, because I had promised myself I'd go to see the closing gallery talk for Karen's show in the morning (...and was I glad I did!)... and then there was Anina, with less than two days at home, who needed to pack and plan and organize and get herself ready to leave to Berlin on Sunday. Oh my God, these were my last few hours with her?
Sunday itself presented another sizable hurdle, as I had committed to host 10 people for an Easter/Good-Bye-Anina lunch with an obligatory leg of lamb and some vegetarian substitutes for Anina herself. And yes, everyone was very willing to help, but the orchestration and all the last second little this and thats were all in my hand... A bit of an emotional roller coaster of celebrating, immediately and jarringly followed by a flood of departure tears, the private pain of leaving her boyfriend behind, now visible to everyone. It was hard not to start crying right along with her, and heartbreaking to see her so sad... So, let me just say: that day too was A LOT.
Finale to Jamie's visit followed on Monday, and since I had not really been able to spend any more time with her, I had to catch up with that on Monday and participate in a mad dash to see the Sol Lewitt show at MassMoca before rushing back over to Albany to get Jamie on the 2:55pm train to NYC. As details sprinkeled in you can picture us trying to add a breakfast at the Hancock Shaker Village to the schedule, which had to be adjusted, because contrary to their website they do not serve a breakfast there any longer... which tossed us into a diner type operation with an antiseptic ambience north of Pittsfield that served my eggs Florentine with a dash of some nauseating chemical somehwere in the english muffin, ...the plan to leave me at the Clarke, in order to see the Toulouse Lautrec exhibit, because I had already seen Sol Lewitt twice also needed a substitute, since the Clarke is closed on Mondays... and because in spite of yelling as loud as I could, neither one of them heard me in the car driving off... I ended up hobbling all the way to main street to find a cafe to sit down in... and there at least a marzipan roibos tea with a delightful almond biscotti made up for the ill-fated breakfast...
Tuesday was our first day of an empty nest, but that didn't quiet sink in yet, plus I had my very first Journey session scheduled and on that account felt quite back on track with life.
Which brings me to yesterday when I started writing this piece, a day that finally... let... out... a... big... long... sigh... of... a... breath. .......Ahhhh.
Still need to take life a little bit slower.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Slowing down...
A brief observation I wanted to get written down before this part of my experience might begin to fade.
Slowing down.
I had to do that a lot, an immense lot.
And you know how much I like speed. Don't like to drive slow, don't like to walk slow, don't like to do things slowly... everything was always best when done with speed, focus and efficiency. This had become so much my second nature that I had somewhat forgotten it was merely a habit and nothing but the product of my belief that there is never enough time in each day to get everything done... and those experiences of dawdling time away at my desk, of daydreaming about this and that, I had come to burden with a certain amount of guilt rather than allow myself to see it as a natural balancing out that my deeper nature was providing for me.
Last weekend, when I was down by Ooms pond, taking those baby steps through the grass, very carefully at first on the uneven ground, and measuring my expanding capacity by how many benches I could reach to sit down on... all of a sudden on my way back up, as I was passing by one of the old apple trees, I felt the beauty of this slowness. A starling was singing up in the bare branches, and continued to sing as I was passing underneath the tree. My feet were touching the ground slowly, slowly the trunk was approaching with all it's bark and tiny moss pieces clinging to it so gracefully, slowly the filigree of branches floated by above my head, the wind moving through my hair, past my head further up passing through them, slowly the dry grasses to my left were revealing the little holes the mice had run through during the winter, and all the while the little starling kept singing cheerfully right over my head. Nature speaking to me its beautiful preciousness.
In that moment I remembered how I used to walk by this tree, how fast I used to pass it, and how little I had ever given a chance to reveal itself, and in that moment I was so glad and so grateful for having been stopped in my tracks, and within one fell swoop all apprehension of aging, all arrogance and judgement and pity that had been attached in my mind to slowing down fell away. Poofhhhh, gone. In that moment I began looking forward to becoming an old woman, walking slowly, the rush of life forever in the past.
Slowing down.
I had to do that a lot, an immense lot.
And you know how much I like speed. Don't like to drive slow, don't like to walk slow, don't like to do things slowly... everything was always best when done with speed, focus and efficiency. This had become so much my second nature that I had somewhat forgotten it was merely a habit and nothing but the product of my belief that there is never enough time in each day to get everything done... and those experiences of dawdling time away at my desk, of daydreaming about this and that, I had come to burden with a certain amount of guilt rather than allow myself to see it as a natural balancing out that my deeper nature was providing for me.
Last weekend, when I was down by Ooms pond, taking those baby steps through the grass, very carefully at first on the uneven ground, and measuring my expanding capacity by how many benches I could reach to sit down on... all of a sudden on my way back up, as I was passing by one of the old apple trees, I felt the beauty of this slowness. A starling was singing up in the bare branches, and continued to sing as I was passing underneath the tree. My feet were touching the ground slowly, slowly the trunk was approaching with all it's bark and tiny moss pieces clinging to it so gracefully, slowly the filigree of branches floated by above my head, the wind moving through my hair, past my head further up passing through them, slowly the dry grasses to my left were revealing the little holes the mice had run through during the winter, and all the while the little starling kept singing cheerfully right over my head. Nature speaking to me its beautiful preciousness.
In that moment I remembered how I used to walk by this tree, how fast I used to pass it, and how little I had ever given a chance to reveal itself, and in that moment I was so glad and so grateful for having been stopped in my tracks, and within one fell swoop all apprehension of aging, all arrogance and judgement and pity that had been attached in my mind to slowing down fell away. Poofhhhh, gone. In that moment I began looking forward to becoming an old woman, walking slowly, the rush of life forever in the past.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Progress... and Hormones.
Wow, this was a full week!
You wouldn't believe how much better I feel!
On Friday, just three weeks after the surgery, I embarked on my first solo outing and drove to school to help with the make up for Anina's cast's first school performance and maybe see the play... IF I felt up for that. Not only did I feel up for that, but I also went back for the first evening performance to help the second cast with make up and see the show. And I wasn't wiped out at the end of the day, just tired.
Yesterday I did give myself a bit of a break and chose not to go to Karen's special gallery viewing, even though I had really wanted to... because at night it was the final performance and Constantin, Sophia and Jimmy were going to come and see this one too.
Nini did really, really well, even though she confessed she didn't like her part. Truthfully it didn't present any fun acting challenges, big emotions, or comical juiciness... just the sweet cheerful young girl, who ends up falling in love and getting married without hardly ever leaving the shallow waters of happy composure.
A week from tomorrow she is boarding the plane to Germany!
During the week I also finished my taxes, hammered out the financial backbone of a separation agreement with Constantin, finished clearing out my office and even plucked the blanket of dead leaves from the most visible one of my flowerbeds so that the crocuses, daffodil, and tulip shoots can soak up the sunshine.
Last Saturday, when Jimmy and I went to our favorite walking place Ooms pond, I hobbled ever so slowly in small baby steps from the parking lot down to the water. Today I walked almost half way around the entire lake!
Half of the tape strips over the scar have come off and this scar looks amazing!
The hormone exploration though will take a little longer. I have now been on estrogen for about one week and the hot flashes have not gone away. They really are NOT comfortable! Maybe progesterone will make a difference? We will see. There are more questions still hidden in this experience. Maybe this is some of the NEW things I will need to discover my cysts spoke about... who knows?
Now, we are taking off to go out to dinner with everybody.
Enjoy this lovely Sunday evening!!
Tomma
You wouldn't believe how much better I feel!
On Friday, just three weeks after the surgery, I embarked on my first solo outing and drove to school to help with the make up for Anina's cast's first school performance and maybe see the play... IF I felt up for that. Not only did I feel up for that, but I also went back for the first evening performance to help the second cast with make up and see the show. And I wasn't wiped out at the end of the day, just tired.
Yesterday I did give myself a bit of a break and chose not to go to Karen's special gallery viewing, even though I had really wanted to... because at night it was the final performance and Constantin, Sophia and Jimmy were going to come and see this one too.
Nini did really, really well, even though she confessed she didn't like her part. Truthfully it didn't present any fun acting challenges, big emotions, or comical juiciness... just the sweet cheerful young girl, who ends up falling in love and getting married without hardly ever leaving the shallow waters of happy composure.
A week from tomorrow she is boarding the plane to Germany!
During the week I also finished my taxes, hammered out the financial backbone of a separation agreement with Constantin, finished clearing out my office and even plucked the blanket of dead leaves from the most visible one of my flowerbeds so that the crocuses, daffodil, and tulip shoots can soak up the sunshine.
Last Saturday, when Jimmy and I went to our favorite walking place Ooms pond, I hobbled ever so slowly in small baby steps from the parking lot down to the water. Today I walked almost half way around the entire lake!
Half of the tape strips over the scar have come off and this scar looks amazing!
The hormone exploration though will take a little longer. I have now been on estrogen for about one week and the hot flashes have not gone away. They really are NOT comfortable! Maybe progesterone will make a difference? We will see. There are more questions still hidden in this experience. Maybe this is some of the NEW things I will need to discover my cysts spoke about... who knows?
Now, we are taking off to go out to dinner with everybody.
Enjoy this lovely Sunday evening!!
Tomma
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