Following ourselves home
There I was in love. I had fallen. I had allowed myself to fall…. it was a listening journey. A journey in a world of change where the big pause button had been pressed by mother nature.
A needed pause, an about time for us all to stop and listen and hear what really matters. A pause causing so much fear collectively and yet I loved it. I loved the needing to stay in place doing no thing, reorienting myself, the main purpose being love. Being loved, sharing love, talking love and holding love – most importantly finding my self love. Maybe the exact time we all have been preparing for. Fear on high volume, boundaries of how to feel safe and for all of us an unvoluntary vulnerable jump into the river of the unknown. Trust stood its test and the need to show up to what was happening on the inside threw its doors wide open. The raw truth of who we are when normalities and what we might had taken for granted was taken away.
The listening to our body’s lead enhanced with the knowing that only we – you and I – could adjust, unlearn to re-learn in the adaptations needed when the cosy confines of opportunities to seek pleasure, entertainment, connection no longer there…. only Mother Nature in all her spring time beauty as our best teacher in sustaining our joy more silent than ever calling us all back home.
I loved it.
Landing in the middle of the wilderness of Northern California she called me back home and even though a pandemic was not what I was planning on for my three month stay in the mecca of conscious movement, it turned out to be exactly what was needed to find love – self love to follow myself home.
A grief deeper than deep accompanied me when this luscious adventure was coming to an end. A grief of having to leave the land that made me feel more home than ever before, leaving the god of a man who had taught me about the woman I like to be, the grief of going home to the known.
I realised I thrive in the unknown. Old fears became uncharged almost worthless in my inner landscape of worry land. The unknown presented itself as a beasty bastard at times and yet a gift to finally to let it go, I mean really let it all go. Let go of every single story and illusion of how things should be looking – a complete let go of myself and my passion to what I do.
One day in the magical meadow the grief showed its deeper meaning – actually I was grieving the ending of a shut down world. The expectations most of all the ones towards myself, the what’s next, questions not even ready to be heard arose. The world had changed and so had I forever. I was on a three month quest to go with effortlessness and it was coming to an end. With the world opening up again changes still unpolished old habits of self judgement surfaced and it wasn’t pretty.
When finally having my visa extended my entire body was feeling a degree and depth of relaxation like never felt before. The last weekend to be in this land of home I marvelled in natural time in relating with the man I had fallen for honouring him for his strength, his truth and devotional commitment to himself. I bowed for the dance of dialogue we shared non-stop for 2 months. My stay was coming to an end, ease was swirling in every cell of my body and everything felt like solidly landed…. at least that is what I thought.
We layed on the bed him reading out loud to me and in the mirror in front of me I saw my naked body. What I saw was the direct opposite of what I had seen and been seen with for months. My self hatred and disgust came, and it came with volume fully amped up. My body shut down and the words of the very interesting book he read out loud (one of my favourite things in the world by the way) was not enterring my body, I could not hear anything. I was deafened by my own inner voice beating me up for being fat, ugly, digusting laying there with all that skin in big folds. Laying next to a honk of a man, did he even like how I looked? He probably just did me for the amazing conscious love making we experienced, my size being a turn-off. He came to the end of the chapter and started talking about the last part he read. I was still in shut down not even hearing what he said.
My body was burning. My belly tightening, an acidic sensation ran up my heart and the inside of my throat thick. I managed to find the courage to open my mouth and share what was going on. There I lay still naked sharing my deepest wound of all and he received it.
He began talking about himself and his own experiences of hating himself. I did not listen, I still could not hear. I was way too busy to tend to what was going on in and under my skin. He wished to understand the disgust I felt. He wanted to let me know he did love my body but nothing, absolutely nothing was getting in. I only heard the parts and words fitting my story of him turned on by thin, long, lean bodies as far away from how I am carved out. I told him how my listening happened through the eye of a needle and whatever he would say, I was not able to receive.
All that I had experienced of luscious, sexiness and bodily freedom just died right there in an instant! I was all closed and could only do one thing, surrender.
The quest I was on when coming here for three months had one more stone to turn – the need to work with the disgust and shame I had with my body not for me to carry in this life time. Of course it needed to appear in my last week here. I was caught by surprise of how self hate that had not been on the menu the last months – the quite opposite in fact – and here it was was served as dessert, a deep talk and sweetly snuggled up drifting into sleep.
And that was not the end of it!
The following morning I woke up from a dream of being in a room with him having sex with a beautiful woman thin, tight skin, flat bellied her carried by him, her legs around his waist, them having amazing sex. I could not get out, I wanted to but I was obligated to see them in their ecstasy doing things him and I could not – one thing is for sure this girl dancer is too heavy to be swung around like that….
I woke up with the images not wanting to leave my head. After dancing for an hour I was doing my best to create some kind of spaciousness in belly and head. The images of them, the self hating image of myself, the words he had said – especially the ones not said – was pounding loud and fast in my body.
Mother Nature was calling me home and I went to the field. I called a dear friend. She lovingly listened, gave no advice, just nodding and let me know how much she loved my fleshy belly. After emptying the overload of words and emotions I could open myself up for space again and so I did…. in wide format.
In the following meditation a tree with a red stem and strong, shiny, green leaves grew out my heart. I opened my eyes. I saw the blue between the leaves of the tree more than the tree itself landing in a place of surrender and gratitude to what had been shown to me. My self hatred that had been stead asleep and needing to surface to be seen and nourished and it had nothing to do with him, I knew that all along.
Right there in the knee high grass of the meadow I saw “the what’s next”. In all its colours, shapes, ways and qualities I had gotten to experience what so many of us long for. Daring to feel the uncomfortable, have the tough conversations, be vulnerable when hiding away was the easiest. Him the honk my teacher, I the listener to a sleeping beast within me. The dance communion that always had freaked me out – when intimately relating in particular – and there in a pandemic far away from home I was forced to be with what was appearing from the silence. Being seen 24/7 and no where to run. I met myself at the edge and fell over to discover a creativity long not felt. I was ready to come up for air. “You learned your lesson, now make it a teaching” was the message.
What was in my way was the way.
I got to experience how the song we play to ourselves has a direct effect on our ability to show up to what is actually happening and on what we bring to the relational dance with an other.
I showed up to and with what was happening in me. Painful truths were shared with a grace and clarity without making the other wrong.
Is that not what life is all about?
Is that what we all longed for before we were asked to stay at home? To see and be seen in our true selves, connected, loved and held for whatever bullshit coming up?
What an amazing opportunity given to make us feel more, do less and be true.
If this real living is what a forced shelter in place a wondrous gap taking us all out of the normal brings, I vow myself to show up for the presumed second wave’s teachings heart first. I call it following ourselves home…..