I often wonder about the things or people who have come before me, the ancestors and family from whom my DNA sprang up. I mean, yes , I know my relatives and family but in honesty-- so little about the nitty gritty of their lives.
Anecdotal stories and shared memories dot the landscape of my memories of things my parents shared with me about their younger lives. But I also knew there were tough, challenging and bad times that did not get spoken of--- and now that my parents, grandparents and most of my aunts and uncles are all deceased, I have no one to ask. Not that I think they would have shared some of those darker stories anyway. I mean who wants to exhume the dead? Who willingly wants to revisit the dark shame and fears ? For a long time, I certainly didn't want to make that journey either. Until I was forced to....
A few years ago I met a man who was a shaman healer. Andrew was incredibly interesting to speak with and he was helping me figure out a pain pattern in my knee that I just couldn't seem to resolve on my own despite the intervention of pain relievers, physiotherapy , chiropractic services and a ton of time stretching, rolling and movement exercise. Nothing was helping and I felt like there was something inside of me telling me I was focusing my energies on the pain rather than the pattern. So I met Andrew and we talked about a pain burden I may have been carrying.
It really felt like a weird conversation at first. I was intrigued with what he was saying and how maybe I needed to look at the pain I was carrying from some sort of ancestral lineage.
Say what? What exactly did that have to do with chronic knee pain?
I tried, honestly, I really did. I took it all in, everything he was saying. I made notes and even read a few books and tried the breath work he suggested. But I felt some resistance in me. Like the way I feel when I come up on an accident scene on the highway. Part of me wants to look, but the bigger part of me is afraid to see anything gory.
Heres the thing, the lesson I have been struggling with for a long time--- a fear to look at the gory stuff, the dark stuff and the stuff that make up my worst nightmares.
Then last night, I spent the night rolling through one bad nightmare after another. Couldn't shake them, even after getting up and moving about the house, looking at my iPad for a few minutes, having a cold drink--- as soon as I tried to sleep the nightmares came back.
Creepy crawly kind of stuff, dark spaces, no freedom, weight of some kind of oppression and the scent of fear. I felt immobilized and alone and yet I sensed my mom was nearby. Not that she made herself known to me or said anything, it was just a sense of her presence.
Today I am tired and instrospective. My personal and professional life took a major turn this year; during this second year of covid and the never-ending lockdowns and constant barrage of talk of vaccines and possible lost liberties, the political drama in Canada that is making me embarrassed to even be Canadian sometimes--- the whole world is weary and over it and collectively we are all ready to move on from this dystopian nightmare.
And for me personally, I am alone and trying to figure out life from a new perspective and realize its not the life I thought I would have. Not that its a bad thing, just very different from anything I ever thought.
And so here I am- the day after the night of nightmares and feeling fuzzy from too little sleep and feeling like the words of Andrew the Shaman are biting my poor sleep deprived butt!
I don't have the same knee pain anymore but in its place is a feeling of disconnect. And that is often worse because its so hard to pinpoint.
My mom's presence last night feels important to me. ( And I need to add that Im not superstitious or a big believer in ghosts or horoscopes or reading tea leaves and asparagus or whatever .... ) But I felt that maybe its time for me to find myself -- lost in that disconnect.
After all, I am on a journey to a new and different life now; I need to leave the past and all its baggage behind because it no longer serves this life. But its not that simple. Still work to be done... I need to acknowledge that some of the things I felt last night in that tossing and turning hell have to do with the dark stuff I have been afraid to look at. The feelings of loss of freedom and autonomy and being alone with my creepy crawly stuff are things I witnessed in the generations of amazing kind and strong women from whom I came from.... They had those same limitations and fears but for them--- the fears and limitations left them empty.
Harsh but true.
These women loved fiercely and took care of those around them, they had strong faith and values but at the end of the day--- they had sacrificed their precious parts and hearts on the alter of patriarchal authority and the world was disconnected from their honor and loving hearts.
I loved ( still love ) my mom, grandmothers, aunts and even those I never knew. I thank them for the strength they passed to me through blood lineage and memories. But sadly, they lost their wild and wise selves.
I always identified ( yikes... that word sounds so nouveau trendy ) with the wild parts of the women, the freedom loving abandon that I saw when they laughed or sang songs together around the family holiday dinner table, when they danced at weddings and parties and when they allowed their tempers to burn against anyone who dared cross one of their family members.
But it was the loss of that spark of all that could have been that scares me. I dont want that for my own life especially now as I navigate it alone and in new territory.
Its time to face those dark alleys of fear, the places where I have been afraid to be strong, where I have been small, shrunken and afraid of not just the creepy crawlies but of my own strength.
My mom was calling me last night, in the depth of my tormented sleep, she is telling me it is time to claim my sovereignty, to be heard in the streets, far and wide, across the rivers, flowing into the ocean.
She is telling me to awaken my heart, to love myself without fearlessly and to retrieve the self worth that was mis-placed in the shadows of shame that was never mine to begin with.
I am reminded of Shaman Andrew's words that that wisdom awaits in our wounded precious parts that I believed was tainted ---this is where the jewels of wisdom of the ancestors awaits my return home-- to myself.
I am learning the lesson to step forward fearlessly, courageously and free of the burdens of the past -- both mine and those that I agreed to carry for so long.
My bed is calling---- Im tired but ready for all my tomorrows.
Quite an amazing post, from a very different perspective. A unique journey for sure.