Friday, December 31, 2010

Eve of a New Year


Dear WEb,
I need to write on this last night of 2010 because it is the last night of the worst year of my life and the last night of the last year my beloved was alive. Bittersweet. Another layer of letting go. It's been unexpected. But I can feel the thread connected to the year stretching stretching moving farther and farther away. It will never be 2010 again.

This morning I woke up remembering something from last winter. It was strange: something last year late fall, early winter struck me and I was fraught with the fear that Phoenix was ten years old and that he would die soon. I remember going to work that day and the days following in a fit about this, talking to a co-worker who deeply understands loss and the love of animals. I specifically remember being so troubled by this awareness of what I thought was his age--10 years old! And then I went to his vet records at some point and realized no, he's not 10--he's 9 years old! It changed everything. I relaxed and was relieved that he was not 10. I don't understand or remember why his being 10 meant anything much different than being 9, but it did then.

Now, I can look back and see the significance of that. He turned 10 on July 2nd. He was dead by that birthday. It's eerie to think about some part of me Knowing what was coming. And that's a double edged sword to think about that. You know the guilt that wants to ride the tail of that "knowing". If I Knew...why couldn't I stop it? Shouldn't I have stopped it?? Etc. Etc. But if I hold off the guilt, it's pretty WuWu to consider my panic about him being 10, because being 10 meant being dead.

So....the other layer of this is that he was killed in this year--2010. Perhaps that is some of it too. I pay attention to numbers--it' s a thing I've grown into doing. Not Numerology...as in the ancient and very detailed official system of meaning with numbers. But over the years, I've begun to pay attention to my own 'unofficial' system of meaning and numbers. And the number 10 is a 1 and a 0....which signifies to me a loss, one being left. Of course none of this was conscious a year ago. A year ago I was conscious of the panic that was happening around Phoenix being 10. I didn't know why except I thought it made him older and our time was nearer to the end than the beginning. This is all retrospect and attempts at making meaning.

All of this is part of my saying goodbye to 2010, a horrible and wonderous year.

Again, Phoenix, I love you so and miss you so and pray for more wonder in 2011--eleven is double ones: a much more comforting arrangement.
So much love in my heart for you,
Phoenixx

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Devotion


Dear WEb,
I just allowed myself to come back to my grief as I was listening to Lisa Gerrard. I moved in dance around my altar I created last week. It is my devotion. I am totally devoted to this Love and this Loss of Phoenix. I can busy myself so easily... and then if I just allow a moment to be moved by some piece of music that puts me there...I go. Wholely and willingly.

Is this pathological to be so devoted? My partner might say so. Maybe some therapists. Some part of me may agree. And...in the larger scheme of things, I say NO, absolutely not. There's nothing pathological about such deep Devotion. I am a living prayer when I allow this devotion to come through. Not a prayer of wishing, which I do do, but more of a prayer of...something else. A prayer of loyalty. A prayer of remembering. Remembering a pact. Remembering Phoenix. Re-membering myself. Re-membering Spirit and Her presence in this Devotion.

That all might not be expressed exactly like I mean. It's close enough. Devotion.
Devoted,
Melissa

Monday, December 27, 2010

So much


Dear WEb,
There is so much that could be recorded here on the WEb. I've not written because of the so much. Plus, sometimes things defy words/expression for another's eyes and ears. The experience sometimes feels like it's just for me, my insides, my innermost world, my womb.

I've been on retreat. There were two days I was off from work last week after the Winter Solstice and before the Christian holy day, so I decided to be on retreat. No computer, no movies, no reading books/stories, no going anywhere, no chit chat, minimal conversations of any sort. The only music I listened to over and over and over again was a cd made by a sister in honor of the Winter Solstice gathering we had last weekend. I was transported deeper and deeper as I listened to this mostly instrumental music. I cleared out a closet and a room that had begun to get cluttered. It was a room where I have my art supplies, it's a space I've done art but not in a long time. I organized and cleared. And when I was done, I created an altar on the floor. It's an altar for me and for Phoenix, our love, our undying connection, the pact between the dead and the living that I am still learning to trust. And outside on Phoenix's gravesite, I created a matching altar. It felt important to honor as within, so without.

Also on this retreat I had loads of fear come up. This is part of the process that defies expression really. Suffice is to say, I am grateful to have had the phone support from a sister to get me through some of the deepest darkness again. I am learning more and more about myself, my losses and my fears. I'm learning about the biographical loss of my twin and the transpersonal loss of someone like a twin. I'm learning about the desperation that accompanies both losses. It's big. And each time I visit this place, I feel such fierce compassion and want to frantically DO something to help such inconsolable loss. Such ferocity to not live one more second with this kind of pain.

Today there are 12 inches of snow on the ground. When I am outside in it, I still feel I am in that altered state of my retreat. I am grateful for all the support in having such a retreat from the fray of the world. I am most grateful to have time for myself with Phoenix. And...I know he was here...the night after I created the altar, in the middle of the night I was awakened by one of the sturdy rocks around the altar fall and roll. Yes, fall and roll. When I looked the next morning, it had in fact fallen over, but no evidence of rolling! Ah, Phoenix, you are such a funny boy!

Love,
Melissa

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Walking the Labyrinth, Lunar Eclipse, Winter Solstice 200010

Dear WEb,
It's a quiet night, early morning--2:40 am. My alarm set, but I am already dreaming of the eclipse, so I am not startled too much. Warm clothes on, layers. My feet move through the dark, the grass, leaves, chestnut hulls, limbs blown to the ground by the North wind so many times these last several weeks. My feet move to the circles of stones they know so well.

I enter...for Femaleness, for the Return, for Phoenix, for my Beingness. I take the walk into the dark. The darkest of the dark. A full moon lunar eclipse above me behind heavy cloud cover on the longest night of the year. I circle, wrap back and circle again into the layers of dark, the layers of this path, guided by these rocks once again, guided by these rocks on this path...My feet know the way.

And then I reach a place I cannot see a way. How can this be?...there is always a way on this path. But the darkness hides it. I feel with my feet and every way seems to be closed off with stones. How can this be? Did someone move these stones? Why would they do that? HOW CAN THIS BE! I stay present to the discomfort, knowing there are many layers of reality here happening. She is teaching me something. Ok, so I retrace my steps back a bit to reorient. Find the heart stone near by and let my hands rest on her. I approach again what seems to be a dead end. Still, it's the same. There is no way. I am at the 'end' here in the middle of the labyrinth. I consider turning back, making meaning of it later. I consider ignoring the rocks, stepping over them and going on. My feet search and search, tapping for the opening. I feel a bit concerned, but mostly intrigued and befuddled.

Finally I see. What looked like the DEAD end was not. The way opens up. And I go on with a wry smile to myself and Her. As I continue on, allowing the sound of my feet through leaves and on the Earth to create the altered state again, I hear the message about illusion. It's obvious, I know. But, I can be 'dense' sometimes--my body needs an experience to understand such platitudes. And I know it's not just a platitude to say 'the end is not the end, it's an illusion of an end'. It sounds so, so, Buddahist of something like that. But Buddah doesn't own that notion. Neither do Christians with the notion of resurrection and heaven. The Earth has her own ways of teaching me, here and now with Her body, Her rocks, Her way. Her way told me to just keep moving in the way my instincts say in spite of what looks closed. And I found the way, through the 'end'.

In reaching the center, I paused and looked east to the mountains and resting light. I say aloud to the Earth, "I am here in your Darkest of Dark hours. I have lived through my Darkest of Dark hours. We move together now. Forward." and now in the recalling of this I will add: "We move together now. Forward. Through what looks like an end."

Blessed be,
Melissa

Monday, December 20, 2010

"I Create from my Womb...

World of my Inmost Self...."

Dear WEb,

This is part of quote I have had for over a decade, written by a woman (whose name I wish I knew/remembered) about herself/women. It's been used to honor that place in us from which we can literally and metaphorically create. I encountered it the other day in my files of many accumulated things when I was looking for things about my process with my womb 6 years ago. I am struck by the number 6--my grandmother was one of 6 sisters--I cannot explain the significance of that except to say that it is significant. Plus it feels like a very important revisiting because as the Winter Solstice nears (aka Tomorrow!), I feel called to pay attention to the things that 'are up' for me right now. My womb...world of my Inmost Self...wow. That's pretty core. What is growing in there now are tumors and a cyst, foreign matter. It is not time for purification. Right now I don't feel threatened by these foreign matters. In fact I am impressed by the stableness of their growth during the last nine months which to me speaks something of another strength/presence down there. No. I feel like it's time for some 'being with' my womb as the world of my Inmost Self.

Another way of saying who my 'inmost Self' is is my Beingness. Who I am meant to be. The energy/consciousness of the Goddess/Femaleness/Life force that is expressed uniquely through me. My womb houses this consciousness. Whew. And it's been nine months yesterday since Phoenix was killed...Nine months. A gestation time. So, I am sitting with that too. Wondering and trying to not be expectant of what will come with that spark of light just past the deepest place of darkness. What do I want to come in that spark...yes, that is a question. What I want to come is energy to enhance the expression of my Beingness. And what I want to come back is Phoenix. Both those things I want with fierce tears in my eyes.

I am not Artemis with an arrow now, full of intent and outward action, in this place. No. I was asked this weekend about the upcoming cycle on the Wheel, "What needs to be protected?" My answer now from this place here on the Wheel is: my inmost Self, my Beingness, my womb. How do I do that? It's like a dream right now...it's like the answer is just behind the veil...it's in my body...I just have to wait and make space for my body to tell me the rest. I remember so many times these last 9 months how I didn't know what was happening in me until my body told me...my mind had to just wait for the story to unfold through my body. So, that is how I will be with this.

Trusting. Creating a space. For my womb. For my Phoenix's bones. For the Mystery.
Love,
Melissa

Thursday, December 16, 2010

What's growing in my womb?

Dear WEb,
Six years ago today, to the date, I had abdominal surgery to remove my uterus because she thought there were multiple fibroids growing in there. When she opened me up, she saw one very large fibroid tumor attached to the main artery that fed my right ovary. Because I had emphatically told her before going in that I wanted to keep my uterus if at all possible, she honored that and just took the fibroid. She also removed my right ovary because the tumor was too close to the ovary and I was losing blood rapidly. I have been tremendously grateful to still have my monthly cycles for these six years!

Three years ago they checked my womb and they found a couple small fibroids growing again. We agreed I'd keep an eye on things. So, I put if off long enough and yesterday I went back for a transvaginal ultrasound to check on how things are 'down there'. Still the two small ones, one is even a bit smaller, and she found a small cyst on my left ovary. While it was an uncomfortable experience, I am grateful for the information. And I am just now beginning to reflect on what this means to me.

The giant fibroid removed six years ago meant something to me back then. I had danced with this thing for many years, holistically. Made meaning of it, tried various treatments and finally reached the point where I'd had enough carrying it around, supplying it with my life force. Plus, I believe it ballooned in size it's last three months of existence because it was an extremely difficult time in my life. Unexpectedly, a former partner had betrayed me and stolen things from me. I was an emotional wreck for several months before deciding it was time to have this abdominal surgery. So, this time in going back to my womb to see what was going on, I was quite nervous. These last six months my stress level has been at an all time high having again been unexpectedly betrayed in the worst way. Last week in anticipating yesterday's appointment, I broke down in fear that if I 'grew' a giant fibroid the last major stressful time in my life then no telling what they will find now!!!!
And I assured myself that I have been tremendously supported these last 9 months by myself and my so many others. Surely that will make a difference!

It has. Something has. And I am grateful. So grateful. And....then last night, I began to wonder: so now I know what is growing 'down there'/'in there'....what do I WANT to be growing in my womb? And I began to get scared. Yes, the fear arose fast. The fear of not knowing what I want to grow. The fear that because I don't know what to grow, these things will take over again. Or...if I do know what to grow and can't/fail somehow, then the space will be invaded again. Or...if I do know what to grow and do...what if they still take over?? When all of this was happening at work, I had to make myself breathe. I could feel a familiar anxiety attack coming on...one like would happen at work after Phoenix was shot. So, I breathed my way through. And tonight I am revisiting those very important questions from yesterday and from years ago after that surgery when a practitioner asked me that very question: What do you want to grow in your womb?

I don't know. Certainly not tumors or cysts. That's for sure. Then my dear K. sent me things to read about Winter Solstice and in the packet there were writings about the pause, the still point of Winter Solstice, when the growing darkness comes to an end, when fear can crop up with the unknown, when we face the longest night. Well, I'm on the Wheel this time. Right on time.

Blessed be. The end of the growing Dark. I can certainly welcome that this year!! And...winter is just beginning. There are still cold dark nights ahead. Time to be with/in my womb.

Love,
Melissa

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Mid-line

Dear WEb,

I am wondering about my mid-line...no, not my waist line...go vertical from there...yes, my mid-line up through the center of me. There have been some interesting related things that have happened over the last several weeks that I'd like to record officially 'on the WEb' here.

Several weeks ago, I went to my new chiropractor for an adjustment. My low back often flares up with spasm and I thought I'd go to be proactive about what was feeling like another flare up. I do not like chiropractic adjustments. They often freak me out. I tell my chiropractor that I am a crisis client--I only go when there is a crisis. The somatic experience of feeling someone's weight on me with the intent to move my bones is triggering to me. I feel like I am going to be crushed. It takes a lot of conscious energy to relax and trust her and what is happening. And above all, above ALL, I do not ever want my neck to be manually manipulated (aka my neck cracked). There is no amount of conscious energy that I can summon to relax myself for that. It's out of the question. So for years, my old chiropractor has used those woodpecker things to adjust my neck just fine.

I'd been going to this new chiropractor off and on for several months now. I felt like she knew me well enough to remember my strong aversion to the neck thing, so this most recent visit I didn't mention it when she began stretching my neck around. I felt a little anxiety come up and then I talked myself down reassuring myself that she knew/remembered and was just stretching my neck: Ok, I can let go into these stretches, relax, relax. Then...she did it. She forgot and did it. It was swift. And, there I went...big time into reaction. I flashed on a time sometime from long ago, another lifetime, someone broke my neck by twisting my head like that. It was gruesome. I thought I might pass out. I thought I might throw up. I did neither and left the office with as much composure as I could manage. Then the emotions came...tears flooded out...had no name...just flooded out of my eyes. There was a purity to the emotion and tears, but I didn't have a name for them. I thought about Phoenix...how I wished he was there for me through this. And..then I thought nothing..just sobbed.

Oh, another piece in this is I'd been feeling strong grief going into the appointment. I haven't told this chiropractor about Phoenix and wondered if there would be a time to do that or if I really wanted to get into emotional stuff with her. Anyway, I was wearing a sweatshirt that I got at the wolf-dog rescue place and on the back there is an image of a wolf's head. When she was adjusting my back, she place her hands on the middle of my back and told me to take a breath. Then she said the oddest thing, "I've got the spot right between the eyes here." At first, I didn't know what she meant and thought she was talking about just my shoulder blades since that is where she was. Then I realized she was talking about the image of the wolf's face. Right between the eyes...the reference to being shot made me shudder inside, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Then she moved onto my neck...

So, the next day, I noticed something odd. I had three pimples on my face down my midline--forehead (between my eyes), upper lip and chin. It wasn't odd in someways because I was getting ready to bleed and that often happens to may face. It was odd in their placement. The next day, I noticed a pimple on my upper chest, also near my midline. Wow. How strange. I wondered if something integrative was happening inside and this was a sign on the outside. And, I very much wondered what was unleashed/released after that adjustment. My head moved so much better for a few days but/and...and, I didn't feel right inside. I found myself on the floor several times that next week, sobbing. Right back where I had been so many times, but this time I was riveted to that image of the bones/skeletons which I've written about. It felt severe and scary. My will in this place was gone, as you recall from previous posts. And throughout, my back has been weak, hurting and in general I've not felt well at all.

Moving on through time, yesterday I was down in the crawl space getting some things and I stood up too soon, banging my head against a beam. The impact was so hard it knocked me down on my back. I don't think I lost consciousness, but I may have for a split second. It was a very hard hit and I fell like a felled tree going down. I had no control even though I struggled to keep myself upright. My legs are so sore today because of how hard I was trying to keep myself standing. I called Beetle over and she stood by me, my hand holding onto the scruff of her neck. I breathed and told myself I was ok. Then I got up and iced my head.

As I was talking to my partner about what happened, I said that I banged the crown of my head--the soft spot. She said, "No that's just with infants." Then she said something about that spot in babies has to be protected until both sides of the skull grow to meet in the middle. Oh, the middle. The mid-line. Of course.

I am not sure what all of these pieces mean, but I can say they are related. And intriguing. To top it off, when I was at the ocean on vacation about a month ago, my attention was riveted many times to the sight of two tide pools at low tide, particularly where one had water and the other was dry. As the tide moved in there was often a channel that formed between them, bringing the dry side water, through the midline, evening them out. That is what the photo above is. There's something there/happening for me. Integration? Whatever that really means.

Whatever it is, I trust the intelligence of it/me/Her. And I follow. Through the pain. With curiosity. At least that's how I feel right now, today.

Love,
Melissa