It Running Through Me

Dear WEb,
Last night was the second night of the class I am facilitating. It went well for the women, and I felt like I stayed mostly outside myself. I think I am doing this disconnect thing with myself because tonight we met in the same meeting place we met with last year's class. The last time I'd been in that space was soon after Phoenix was killed. I was in shock tonight that it hardly registered at the time and I totally ignored and didn't acknowledge the obvious fact that we were in a different meeting place than last week, totally unfamiliar to these women. I just proceeded like nothing had changed. Strange when I think back.

Later in bed, I had a difficult time falling asleep even though I was tired, my eyes feeling the strain from 'holding' the container. That's usually where I end up feeling it. Finally, I let go into sleep only to reawaken around 3:30 with the same mental replaying. "What do you need/want? How can I support you?" is how I finally respond after a good long time of letting the mental train go freely over and over again the same tracks. This time the response to my questions took awhile. And I came to know my disconnection again, from myself. Eventually the tears came and my grieving heaved through. I felt out of control, with the worrisome questions of "What's happening to me?" as my body began to involuntarily shake. I felt scared, alone, out of control.

I began to recall just several days ago when I experienced serious constipation. (As I begin to allow myself to 'tell' this I am noticing the concern about eyes reading it--too personal, too 'taboo', will gross you out, etc etc). Breathe. I want to tell the WEb, record it here. It is that important for me to remember the experience's place in the family of things.

So, I experienced uncharacteristic constipation this week. I was uncomfortable with it for much of a day at work, though was able to function alright. I did everything I knew to try to get things moving again--eating lots of fruit, drinking water, not eating animal protein etc. And all I experienced in response were cramps like things were moving, just not able to move out. Then that night, when I got home I tried a suppository. Again, cramps, more intense and still nothing. It felt like a still birth. A pregnancy that would not complete itself and I was in pain! And very very scared having not encountered this kind of stuckness before. I called a sister who told me I needed an enema, but there was no way I could walk across the room let alone get in the car to the store. Plus, I was scared to try anything else because it might not work either. And it feels so invasive...I might hurt myself, it might stimulate hard memories etc et. And yet...what was there to do?

So, I waited. Paced beside the toilet. Massaged my back and belly. Let out gutteral sounds. Paced some more so my legs wouldn't fall asleep sitting on the toilet. I did everything but cry, I realize now. When my partner came home from work, there I was in all my misery. She knew what to get at the store, took less than a half an hour to go, get the enema and return--record time. And at that point, all my reservations were gone, gone! It's got to work...I'm willing to risk it not working. Something has to give. I cannot do this on my own. I've tried to 'let go', relax on my own, coach myself through....and I cannot.

After the enema, I experienced the most visceral letting go I ever have. I immediately felt nauseous and thought i would throw up as I sat on the toilet waiting for something to work. I was so scared that the 'stuckness' was so bad that the enema would only be able to elicit vomiting. That's how it felt. I was scared. So scared and there was nothing I could do. Then the release came following a heave in my gut that was so out of my control. I'd been pushing, massaging, moving all day trying to get things in my gut to move out. And this release came from a heave that was Me, but not me. And...it worked. I really felt like the vomiting did happen...my intestines vomited. When I went to bed that night, my body quivered all night long. I think I wimpered and cried from the emotional aftershocks throughout the night. It was an intense experience and a differently intense aftermath.

This morning around 4 am when the grief began to flow, I began to involutarily shake again. As I let the disconnect with myself move into connection, .the words came to me, "You're just going through it, Love". My right hand had gently found her way to a soft part of the back of my neck. I felt myself with myself, finally. Even if just for a moment. I let myself continue to go through it while staring at Phoenix. Missing him so much. And then outside a wolf howled. It was so distinct. Quiet before and quiet afterwards. I know it was him missing me. "What are we do to about this missing one another?" I begged. So, moments followed moments for several hours.

Somewhere during those moments after moments, the notion of 'going through it' (ie the grief, my process etc) shifted to an awareness of 'it going through me'. And I began to think about this month of January--having that bronchitis for several weeks before it got so bad that I had to stay in bed for a week. The gallons and gallons of mucous that moved through me during that. The antibiotics. All the herbal remedies, cough expecterant etc etc. And now this week with the intense back up in my intestines. This month "IT" is definitely going through me. It is true that since Phoenix was killed, my body has been in the picture: I've had back issues, leg issues, neck issues, banged my head etc etc. And that was also, I believe, 'IT" going through me. I just didn't realize it quite like this because I was able to respond to all those conditions and 'do something' to help things along. I guess I did eventually here in this instance too with an enema. However, this visceral experience of letting go was as poignant as it gets. I get it in my gut now--"IT" is moving through me, Love.

I record all of this on the WEb, affirming I am safe and protected from judgement and harm. This is my Life. And this is how I am choosing to Live. A Life must be born, over and over and over again in moments. Moments of a soft hand against the back of a neck, moments on the toilet in great despair and fear, moments of a wolf howling outside a window on a cold dark winter early morning....moments of nothing, then something...running through me.

Love,
Melissa

Letting myself look

Dear WEb,
Last night after work I got on line and let myself look at puppies. This past week I've let myself think about when I might get a new puppy. These are big things. It is so complicated... and so simple. A puppy would alter things in this household in my relationship with my partner, Beetle, Myrrh and myself. I have had two dreams in the last couple of days where I was really angry at my partner, really angry. Seething. I am not totally sure what it's about, but when I had one last night after letting myself look at puppies, I am wondering if I'm dreaming my anger about her because it's too hard to feel it. And what am I angry about? I think it's because she would be the most disturbed by a puppy.

My bond with Phoenix defies her understanding, I believe. She tries. She has supported me in ways that she knows she can best support my immersion in grief. Ultimately, though, I don't think she really has experienced this kind of loss and therefore is limited in her understanding of it. And...She has been there for me. Particularly through the initial shock and trauma of it all. The image I keep close to me is her drumming behind me as I am keening at Phoenix's grave, cutting at my hair. That was her Essence understanding me.

So, why the immense anger? Do I think she is the one holding me back from getting a puppy? From trying again to have some sort of close bond with another dog? Am I projecting my reservations about that onto her? I am not sure. And I want to know. And I want a puppy. To not try to recreate this kind of relationship seems immensely and unnecessarily cruel and deadening.

Dear, WEb...I am asking for help with this piece of the process/weaving. I need clear Guidance and Support as I try to get clear on if, how, when I am to get a puppy. I think it's a puppy that will help and...I admit, I don't know for sure. I do know that I need to do something directly to help fill this gaping hole in me.

Love,
Melissa

Grief Infinitum

Dear WEb,
Today on my way to work, I got behind a car that had things packed in the back. The way some pillow was arranged looked just like the profile of Phoenix. I cried missing missing missing Phoenix. This Grief is always here. I wake up sometimes in disbelief that I am here without Phoenix. I look at his picture and I think, "How is it possible I am here looking at a photo of you, instead of the real you!" It defies understanding to some part of me. It just doesn't make sense. I wish writing this could somehow make it make sense.

The other night I dreamed Phoenix was running around like normal. I wasn't paying much attention to him except that I kept trying to remember what it was I was forgetting about him. What was i forgetting??? I woke up with that struggle of remembering and then the moment my eyes opened, I remembered what I was forgetting: Phoenix is gone. Phoenix is dead. And instead of falling into a well of tears, I willed myself back to sleep and into a dream state. In the dream, I psychically called over and over for Phoenix to come now that I remembered what I forgot. Finally, as I was looking through a mirror or a looking glass sort of thing, he appeared. I think I reached down and hugged him, but I'm not sure. My memory of it was surprise and delight that he came when I called. Even as I write this I am weeping in gratitude. Gratitude and Grief.

Today a coworker showed me a photo of her when she was a little girl. She and her two sisters were each holding a puppy. I cried right there because it was so sweet. My arms want a puppy so bad. My little girl wants a puppy more than ever!! It's so hard for her to grieve so long. It's almost unbearable. Almost as unbearable as it is incomprehensible to another part of me that I am here without Phoenix.

And this week I begin teaching again. Teaching a class that I taught last year during the time frame that Phoenix was killed. That circle/class endured that trauma with me best they could. I endured some because I had that class to teach/Priestess. There were days I was on the floor collapsed in tears just hours before I had to teach. And there is a part of me that is terrified to teach again. That somehow has linked the trauma with the class. Which is also true with the coming of Spring and the trauma. Right now I am dreading Spring. Dreading.

I am trying to be gentle with myself these days. All the currents of me need Gentleness. And I glance up to the words again:
"And you will be able to handle all of this that comes your way, and we will be with you." I say that aloud onto the WEb: "And I will be able to handle all of this that comes my way, and You will be with me."

You better be! :-)
Love,
Melissa

Winter Heron Visit

Dear WEb,
Sometimes I feel drawn to write in order to somehow be closer to Phoenix. It's that devotional thing, maybe. Tonight is my last night before I return to work. This has been an extended retreat for me. I am most grateful to have had this time to rest, rest, rest and to catch up on business. I got a lot of things done that had been waiting in the wings, so to speak. And the time to rest and move at my own pace most of the time was delicious. I will miss that.

And my life is readying to change again. Such so that Heron came to mark it for me yesterday. It was so poignant--she landed by the pond just as I arrived at the kitchen window for some water. And just as my partner arrived to my whispered call for her to "hurry, come see!!!" a red tailed hawk flew above the pond and the heron to a near by tree. J and I were stunned, totally. Heron means so much to me and hawk has meant much to her. And there they were together. It was incredible! And Hawk stayed close to Heron for a while. We wondered and smiled about their seemingly unconventional relationship,

Heron was intriguing to me. She stayed right there on the northern corner of the pond, hunkered close into the bank and her head and beak tucked into her breast feathers. It's been so cold and wintery these last many days. We've had so much snow and the temperatures have been in the 20's and lower. She landed on our pond, we think, to get out of the wind, rest and maybe restore her body heat. Though aren't birds cold blooded? (ie they can stay warm no matter what) Well, she may be cold blooded, but/and I think she was cold! I looked on line about herons and what I found said they do not do well in cold climates. It has been unusually cold these last two years and I remember wondering last winter where herons go. Now, I know that one comes to our pond! Much to my delight. She stayed there much of the afternoon, then flew on.

She got me thinking about bracing myself and about ways I try to insulate myself with some sort of self-comfort. She also got me thinking about banking myself--allowing the Earth to break the wind, so I can rest. And I find it fascinating that she landed and stood in the only remaining small circle of unfrozen water beside where the spout feeds the creek water into the pond. Initially I projected the thought that that would be cold...and...then another thought came: it's the sound my ears seek every time I come home or leave home. The sound of running water, the sound of the life force moving. Of course that might have appeal to her too: she who may be tired, she who may be struggling with an unnatural environment, she who is seeking comfort.

I have spent a week home tending to myself, tucking my beak against my breast, listening to the life force move in spite of the freezing all around. Heron reminded me of the importance of all of that. She also marked the day that I began turning my attention to a new class I'm teaching next week. She reminds me, perhaps, these new students may be seeking/needing a place to land, to rest, to restore and find some comfort from "a climate that is inhospitable" (thanks to O. for articulating that last piece). It's a harsh time right now for so many--not just physically with the weather, but psychically, I think many are challenged to find peace and comfort. I know I sure am.

So, thank you, Heron. Thank you, Phoenix. I love you beyond measure. Everyday. Every moment.
Love,
Melissa
PS...I miss your ears.
PPS...Just now I can hear owls hooting into this most cold and clear, snow sparkling night! They are loud all around the house! What a gift--Heron, now Owls! I am blessed.

"Not fit to travel"

Dear WEb,

The above picture is of Phoenix one day in the car. He looks so unhappy to be traveling!! Sweetness.

In the middle of the night before I was to board the plane to Phoenix, AZ, I woke up to the undeniable truth: I am sick! My coughing was choking me to the point of creating a gag reflex! So, I did what any mature middle aged adult would do, I called my parents in the middle of the night! They were generous sports about it and reassured me it was ok, I needed to stay home and get well etc etc. I wept when I hung up the phone...wept like a little girl. Actually, truth be told, I cried on the phone with my mother when the words "I don't feel well" poured over the phone. She reassured me that this all would pass, I would get better, the cold just needed to 'run its course'. I cried more because I knew she knew: she's been sick with something similar for about a week longer than I.

My tears were those of a little girl for sure. A little girl needing her mommy to make it all better. And, you know, they were also the tears of a middle aged maturely grieving woman who needed to hear there would be an end to this. Not this cold or bronchitis...but THIS pain and loss, this that feels like I might die, or have already died. And I needed to hear from my mother that I would get better, this grief just needs to run its course and that somehow she knew that Truth, somehow. When we were saying our goodbyes, she said she'd call me in the morning and see how I am, to call her if I got worse in the night and...then she said what we do not say in my family: "I love you." And I said it back, meaning it.

So, I've been home all week now, resting and taking care of the things that matter most right now: getting better, letting this run its course, loving myself. That is not easy business. I've had help from my partner, yes, and much of the time I've been beside myself, alone. When I called the airlines to cancel, they told me they'd wave the change fee if I had a doctor write a note that said I was 'not fit to travel'! That sized it up! I felt totally unfit to leave the confines of my home!

I'm not sure what it was that called me to write tonight. Was it to update things on the WEb? Is it because I'm missing Phoenix again--another wave of missing him, missing the way Phoenix was beside me in so many ways? Is it because I feel time moving on as I get closer to teaching another new class? Is it because I heard on the radio that there are only 68 more days til Spring??? 68!!! I can hardly bear thinking the Wheel is 68 days from returning to that day Phoenix left! Is it because a sister of mine has a cat who's leaving soon and maybe has already left? Is it because being Left will never 'run its course' in me--it will be forever a tragedy in my soul.

Finally, another sister wrote me an email this week. She wrote something that I've printed and posted above my computer because it has profoundly comforted me:
And you will be able to handle all of this that comes your way, and we will be with you.

The WE is my circle of sisters, my beloved Phoenix, my winged companions...I suppose the tragedy that forever lives in my soul may find a bit of comfort in this Companionship.

Love,
Melissa

Getting ready to go to Phoenix

Dear WEb,

For a week, I will be going to Phoenix. No, not to Phoenix, my beloved, though...I WISH it was as easy as boarding a plane! I will fly to Phoenix, Arizona. My grandmother will be 102 this month and my folks are there now too.

Clearly, I do not want to go. This is a ticket they bought me last year in March and I did not use it because you know what happened then. So, going there reminds me again of Phoenix not being here and why. The only other time I've left home this year since Phoenix was killed was to the ocean and right before that I didn't want to leave either. What's coming up is fear of being away from what little ground I feel here at my home. Right now it's leaving the altar I made, leaving the familiarity of this home, my partner, Beetle and Myrrh, my people and going to a place where conversations tend to be surface, predictable, uninteresting and often with an undercurrent of stress. Add on top of that having bronchitis and perhaps it's clearer why I cannot bear to leave.

Bottom line, I just don't want to deal with anything without my beloved Phoenix. Not that he would be there with me if he were alive. I just feel more vulnerable in so many ways. And I long for comfort. The comfort only Phoenix offers. Plus I want to be around people who understand my Devotion that I wrote about. I don't think they do, not in any real way they'd let themselves. They love their animals, truly. It's the one thing we share. And...they never have understood or appreciated the depth of my feelings. The one consolation is that they go to bed early, so I can retreat to my room by myself. There I can and have cried and called home. Then in the morning am somewhat recharged again to exist with them on that plane. At least that's how it's been. Everything is changed now. Everything. So, I cannot say how it will be this time in Phoenix without Phoenix.

Goddess help me.
Love,
Melissa

The morning of 2011

Dear WEb,

This morning I got something I often crave. It's something I think harkens me back to the days when I was a wolf, or could live more wolf-like. One of my favorite things to do is snuggle in bed with my animals. My partner has animal dander allergies, so we all rarely do this together. But it worked out this morning, unplanned, that we all were in the bed together!! I LOVED IT! It didn't last more than maybe 15 min and...it meant the world to me to feel all that body heat, all the softness and various bodies snuggled together in the comfort of my bed! I took great note that this was the first morning of 2011!!

Thank you, Phoenix, for your paw in that happening! I love you, every day, every minute of this new year and every one to come.

Love,
Melissa