Magick is alive in the push through discomfort, in the face -to- face with our own truth, in the holding of space for others’ truths, even when we do not understand them.  Together we courageously heal ourselves and the web of life that connects us…

I am here at the ocean today to assist a grief ritual in the tradition of Sobonfu Some as she handed it down to us from her tribe, the Dagara peoples of Burkina Faso in West Africa.  It has evolved, as magickal work will, alive in this time, with some elements of Martin Prechtel’s teachings on grief woven in.  The people here in the West need grief work, as Sobonfu saw when she first visited America.  This led to her life’s work of bringing the rituals here and teaching all that she could before her passing in 2017.

I am so grateful for her and the dear communities who carry on this work.  We all need this kind of opportunity and support for cleansing in this  go go go culture.  Yes, that is my assumption - and it proves to be true, every ritual.
I have participated in and helped to facilitate grief rituals many times now.  I have lost count.  Having been through huge life changes, including a lot of loss and separation throughout the  years of pandemic, I have been grieving.  I really thought that I am not in need of this particular ritual this weekend.   Grief has just been flowing now, I have been holding nothing back.  I am open to all of my feelings moving.  They have been moving, I am well.

Well, I was wrong.  I live in this world.  This world is at war, with itself, with its past, too many ‘sides’ with each other, and Russia’s war on Ukraine just kicked off last week. 

Reluctance is present as I prepare for the long day.  We arrive at 9am and go until sunset.  I am on a heavy flow day of my moon cycle and I am setting up the water altar.   I need to carry a lot of things down the tricky, half mile plus, trail to the beach after driving 1.5 hours to arrive on time.  Early rising and a full day of work on a Saturday after a busy work week daunts me this morning.   It is work I am not paid for but that I believe to be vital to human wellness, and that is what I live for.  So, I do the work.  I do it because I have people coming and know others who need this work and I want it to keep going.  Therefore, I am committed to being part of making it happen.

It is cold and beautiful at the beach.  She has been my soother of grief before I knew of these rituals. I come to her to cleanse and feel myself small in the expanse of the roaring, big picture of life with the face of the ocean.  It is healing medicine for me, she puts me in my place.  Here, I am small and my troubles are insignificant.

Today I come to support others in their grief, I think.  It is true.  I set up.  I call in the energies of water, welcome the fluidity of being, the sacredness of our tears, we honor and give thanks for the blessings of the waters of the earth, and the remembrance of our fluid nature.  I sit with others and listen to their stories of pain, grief, loss, of confusion around identity, belonging, and longing for love and healing for self and the world.  Overflowing compassion moves me to feeling unconditional love for these courageous humans.
I share about the recent loss of my friend, a kind and gentle community member who took his own life a couple of weeks ago.  My heart aches so desperately for people when they do not see any other way out of their pain but to take their own life.  My heart  mourns for those left behind to feel so much pain, grief, and guilt, wondering if there was something they could have done to help.  I have struggled with suicidal thoughts and failed many vain attempts since I was 10 years old.  It is deeply personal to me, to process this.  It fuels a burning desire to help us move beyond this kind of giving up when there is still the possibility of a rich and joyful life yet to be lived.  I live a rich and joyful life.  I would have missed so much if I had given up.

The village is singing.  We dive into the depths of the ritual after a half day of connection and preparation in many ways.  People begin to come to the altar to express their grief, to cry, to open themselves to the ocean, to bury their sobbing faces in the sand, to angrily pound the earth in their frustration with the ails of humanity.  I feel everyone so intensely, their sorrow, their confusion, the expressions of rage, shame, and not feeling loved, like they don't belong,  are cared for, or accepted, and on, and on… I know their stories, and I don't, but I know others like them and I feel for them, for my beloveds, for those here, near, far, embodied and not… 

I am flowing today… I am water… My heart is pulled by the expressions of grief around me. I soon find myself calling for someone to take my place in holding space and back me up as I fall to the earth in grief and weep.  We stand in support of each other here.  No one is alone here.

At first I weep for the people here- the sweet, courageous humans who dare to let their aches flow out.  I cry for my loved ones whom I wish were here. I cry for the pain of so many beings who were treated badly, harmed, made to feel like something was wrong with them, taught that they were damaged or not worthy of love, care, and celebration.  I am so angry at our world for all of the “supposed to be’s” that make people doubt and hate themselves and each other.  I am so devastated that people, in this day and age, with such history to look at, would think that war is an option, that it is ok to bomb people and the earth, to indiscriminately take innocent lives and cause mass ruin.  I find myself suddenly sick with the grief of so many people feeling so lost and angry and hopeless and hateful of one another.  The grief begins to consume me. Tears and screams rage through me.  I begin to sob uncontrollably, for those around me, for all of my loved ones near and far, for the earth, for humanity…

And then, sorrow for myself opens.  I have lost love and life as I knew it with the devastating changes that this pandemic has heralded.  I long to be loved and held in a way that I am not loved.  My love is sad and far away.  My Self has been working hard to be enough for myself,  but still I crave… I cry out my heart's longing for my love to be able to meet me, to see me, to celebrate me and the love that I have for them.  I ache, I tremble, I feel myself break open.  I let the emotions, sounds, ocean waves, grains of sand, fluids from my face, dissolve the boundaries of “me”, along with the rational mind… Subconscious, visceral memories arise…

I find myself, a baby in my crib, wailing inconsolably, desperately needing to know that I am not alone, that someone cares.  I need to be picked up, held, loved, fed… I feel so alone in the world, helpless and vulnerable.  I feel that baby that I once was, with abused and abusive teenage parents with drug dependencies, ignoring me, leaving me to scream and cry…  I find this frightened baby alive inside of myself, still.  This early rejection and neglect shows up now when I feel ignored or neglected.  I think, ‘I am not loved and i don't matter’. This is not my rational thinking brain, this is my subconscious, my wounded child, believing that I am still in mortal danger, helpless, hopeless, alone… It shows up beneath the surface of my conscious knowing, and causes me to shake and ache when I sense myself without care or the connection that I need.  I have put myself into relationships that trigger this feeling for as long as I can remember.  In the past, I have left them before they could leave me.  I practiced with each departure, unconsciously owning my power of autonomy once I had it, as a young adult.  Instead of feeling helpless, fought, I ran.  I didn’t actually pick myself up, I just rebelled.  I ran away from home.  I ran from relationships where I didn't feel loved for who I was.  In retrospect I think that's ok… but there is more to do to heal this kind of preverbal trauma.  Ultimately, there are better ways to heal than choosing and blaming people whose wounds meet mine.  I unexpectedly found one today.

Now, in this flash of seeing/ feeling baby me so despondent in my crib, with no one responding to my needs, I can see how that has set me up to feel this way when my needs are not met in relationships, to this very day and age.  I see how I have subconsciously continued to try to heal that early experience by choosing people who cannot be there for me when I need/ want them to.  
With this realization, I suddenly feel myself, sober and present in the moment again.  I sit up abruptly, and gaze with eyes between worlds, out to the ocean.  The tears abide, a state of near shock arises with this awakening.  I am in a trance or communion with the ocean of life.  I feel within me/her, great waves of change.  The tides are turning.  I am able to go to the roots of my issues on my own now and come back out.  I used to think that I would go crazy and not come back if I let myself feel all of the things.  But my energy body has grown strong over these years of working with being with what is.  I have made choices to heal and grow even when it was the apparently harder thing to do and I did not want to, due to fear of pain, rejection, self-hatred, worthlessness… all that and then some...

I feel for those who have tried to love me even as they saw and ‘had to’ care for aspects of my apparently broken self.  I feel for my beloveds who have tried to love me while in process with their own experiences of perceived, broken selves.  We all have work to do.  We live... The work is never over while we live and continue to love… Therefore also, I see and feel the rewards of loving.  I am rich with gratitude for the beauty of life.  I live in praise of the beauty of all that we grieve.  I see how it makes us rich, our lives full with wonder and awe.  We are small.  We are everything,.. We are one great magnificent thing experiencing all that it is to be the many things.  I am here for this.  I am alive for this.  I love expansively.

I let these reflections settle in for a bit.  The song of the village calls me back.  It seems as though, for the moment, I have gotten what I came for.  I thank her, and move my body back to the village.  

The ritual is long, deep, and wide.  I come back to holding space with the hearts of others.  I have picked myself up today.  I have heard the cries of baby Dawn and picked her up and held her while we, somewhat shocked, looked at the ocean together and felt ourselves grown up... I have to admit, I was not especially kind or gentle in that moment of realization. I just did what needed to be done, like a sleep deprived caretaker at the end of a long shift.  I sat in stunned silence, feeling whole, empty, overwhelmed, and saved by myself, as if from destruction.  So, we just sat for a moment to integrate, and I returned to my service work.

On my drive home, I have the overwhelming feeling of neeeeding to be held, cuddled, rocked, squished, comforted.  I want snuggles.  I want love from outside of myself.  I try to talk myself out of it, thinking a shower will do me good, and pillows all around me, like I do these days.  I rack my mind for who I can reach out to for ‘safe’, no strings attached, available cuddles.  I reach out to my love, they are alone and sad.  They do not want to talk or cuddle.  I am crestfallen but did not have my hopes too high, so i am alright.  I reach out to a friend who was at the ritual and ask them for future cuddles.  They happily say yes.  This is somewhat soothing. I took a risk and asked for what I needed.  Future cuddles count.  I go home.  I shower, I snuggle my pillows.  I am sad, i am emptied out, i am lonely, i am rich with life and full with gratitude.  This container of being that I am holds multitudes.  The day was beautiful. The end of the ritual always has so much joy. Today was no exception.  Everyone there is part of a village now.  We are a community of spirit, we have moved energy together, we have changed worlds with healing presence… We are connected.  It does fill one's heart so very much with love to empty out the grief, I think especially in community.  I sigh, wistful yet content, and drift to sleep.

Days later I get snuggles, but there is no time to share stories or connect beyond the moment.  I am grateful, and I still feel the lack of connection that I desire.  I look forward to the weekend when life will allow us to drop in more deeply together.  I am patient and spacious these days. As much as i crave love and affection all week, I can wait... My love lives with someone else and they are going through a lot.  I have learned to be self reliant since losing my long term partnership and ushering my grown child into adulthood. 

 I am my own love and affection most of the time.  I thought that I was doing good at being so.
But then, on Friday morning, when I was looking forward to landing in the arms of love that night, i get a call.  The beloved explains to me that they need to give this night to someone else.
I “understand”.

And,..   

Suddenly, I feel that trigger response.  I realize how upset my body is about this situation that my mind wants to say is not a big deal.  I shake.  My heart feels like it has a vice on it, it aches, my breath is shorter, my jaw is tight.  I feel betrayed, again.  Neglected, again.  Not considered or prioritized, again.  More stories; You didn't want to hold me last week when i needed it,  you don't want to hold me tonight when i need it,  you haven't wanted to, or been able to hold me through so much when i have needed it, although you have professed since the beginning the desire to hold and support me through all of the big things that i do in life - your ‘wanting to catch’ me... i need that.. I want that.  Yet, you are not here.  Again.  Again, I realize, I am that baby alone in the bed.  Neglected, abandoned, not cared for, left alone to cry in need and pain without anyone to hold them.  I have chosen this situation.

For an entire day I shake and ache.  I cannot make this pain go away.  I question why I stay in this thing that hurts me so bad. Why do I stay with this person that has no capacity or desire to be present with me and fulfill my needs?

I sit with the possibility that I am perpetuating the pain, re-enacting my early life trauma by staying in this situation.  I feel the urgent need to get out.  I recognize this pattern of - every time something bad happens I think, ‘I need to get out’.  When is it actually true?  When am I running away from healing, and when am I honoring myself and stopping the insanity of perpetuating my early childhood wounds?

This morning I awaken slowly.  I feel my soft, tender, fleshy body under my own hands.  I think of my friend's baby for some reason.  A full body, soothing sigh arises at the visceral memory of what a precious thing it is to hold an infant.  Suddenly, here I am - holding myself.  I am holding baby Dawn (my birth name).  I am holding her gently, sweetly, with so much presence and loving compassion. I am holding her/ myself the way that I needed to be held from that crib, the way that I needed to be held after the grief ritual, the way that I wanted to be held every time I felt like my feelings or needs were not considered.  And, the circle is complete.  I hold my baby self.  I hold my adult self.  We receive each other as one in love and compassion.
I wonder if i could have done this on the beach, if i made myself go “back to work!”, back into action, too soon.  It is definitely something I was taught to do.  Keep pushing forward.  This kind of survival mentality has definitely gotten me up off of floors of depression before, but i gleen also, how it has had me avoid this tenderness with myself.  It makes sense that I wouldn't have given myself space for compassion, as I wasn't taught to.  Now, I know, I slow…  I give space for healing.  Turns out, I am blessed to have this time alone today.  Thank you, beloved.

I write now, and integrate ever deepening layers of healing.  I am all one.. I am whole.. I am alone, and I am loved.  I am sure that some time in life I may feel abandoned or neglected again.  I can look at the circumstances, what my choices have been to get there, to stay there.  I can see what I have chosen.  I can see how consciousness works, to heal itself from trauma, to finish moving energy in whatever ways it didn't get to move with the original occurrence of wounding.  I can choose to take different actions now, moving forward in my adult body - to give myself what I need, to reach out for support, to make whatever change in life needs to be made to heal the heart of the experience, to find myself whole, loved, held, supported.  I am.  I am whole, loved, held, supported - by myself, by the universe, by beloveds, and community of spirit.  


I am grateful to remember and know this, no matter how many times I have to re-member again.
Learning and healing require vigilance and constancy.  The work is worth it.  The joy of self knowing and feeling at one with spirit is beyond words.

May all beings experience the blessings of self-reliance, community, peace, and compassion on their paths of growth and healing…

​

the Crushing Weight of Mountains 3/2/21
​
I am so grateful not to be pressed by the crushing weight of mountains today
Mountains that I cannot climb, that I cannot get out from under
I am relieved to not be crushed by the weight of “me” today.
In this moment I am free from the dismal density of self-doubting reality
Today the burden of self-hood does not press so painfully upon me
As it once did, as it so often has, as it in passing, still sometimes does…
Now I know this cruel trick of fate, - that trickster - trying to make me believe
That I am make-believe, trying to deceive me with the belief that I am not enough
That I am not worthy, that I am broken, beyond repair, a gaping wound that will never heal...
In this world of make-believe, I am what I believe.
I believe what I am taught
Until I un-school myself. & so I have, beneath the crushing weight of mountains
The smallest most meaningless molecules of me have struggled to breathe and thought
Why bother
Then, something flea size fly size butterfly size mouse size rat size... something inside outside
Wide as the swaths of stars, deep as the dark depths of earth beyond my comprehension
Beyond words…
- those complicated harbingers of belief-
Something stirred, still stirs, …stillness stirring… incomprehensibly
A glimmering, the residue of stars, sparkles of my truth, divine truth, finds itself dancing
Stillness is part of dancing, It sets the whirl to blaze
I dye in this empty stillness… I find nothing nothing nothing
Which soon, though slowly, exposes itself as everything, everything, everything...all the colors
retch and yawl, creep and crawl, stretch out from their glimmering, yearning, turning to roar fires of desire
To live. Fully.
To find truth, curiosity, wonder, adventure, expression, relation, compassion, celebration...
What is it to be alive in this body? why is it one would want to die before life is done with this body?
What part of me wants to dye?, what expired aspect is sacrificing itself for change, for growth
Of new life
I am a force of nature
You are a force of nature
We are a force of nature
Nature shows us how to do this
We have so much life to live
So much love to give
Love is breathing us
The love of the universe is dancing through us
Its creation
We are the universe celebrating its creation
Doubting its creation
Like all artists creating, doubt and questioning are parts of the process
that bring forth the form of the whole
Aren’t they?
Like the way that expressing grief breeds joy and feeling the fullness of love and joy gives way to grief...
Nothing permanent, nothing lasting…
Everything gives itself to what’s next
This is healing, this is living, all the humble and resistant receiving
All the generous overflow and also, the sometimes fearful clutching of the giving
All of it, all of it, all of it, parts of the song to which we are dancing

I am beginning a series, a training and a book with this theme - FORCE OF NATURE.  This is the first shared writing from upcoming said things.  I welcome your stories of teachings and healings from nature as well!  

Here is my writing from a trip i took in September.  The memory of it inspires me everytime! Enjoy!

We are backpacking, carrying all that we will need for 5 days, along the trail from Usal, named for ‘United States of America Lumber’ company, as they were trying to clear cut this area for decades to continue highway 1 along the coast, to Anderson creek, where there is a secluded little black sand beach. Thank goodness the land, again and again, held out and said, ”no”  to those who would blow up these rocky outcrops and clearcut these thickly wooded inserts of forest to lay down pavement.  The unadulterated natural beauty here, only accessible by foot, is worth the work to visit. 


 It is a very rugged up and down trail we are on.  At some points it disappears into trees, bushes, and poison oak.  We even encounter a landslide where rope has since been tied by caring volunteer tenders of this obscure trail, between two fallen trees still clutching the sideways earth with stubborn roots.   I work to get purchase with my sneakered feet into the loose, sandy, gravely hillside.  I am hanging onto the rope for dear life as my beloved Jess works to give tension to the other end and make it easier for me.   I am still holding on to the rope as I hear a scrambling of rocks and a shuddering of the bushes high above.  I  look back to see where I just nervously crossed.  From way up the mountain, rocks as big as my head come bounding down.  I see a cavalcade of potentially lethal strikes to my fragile human form.  I see where I could have been pummeled and thrown down the steep slope by this movement of the earth which did not seem to be propelled by my actions.  I guess that we were warned by the aesthetics of the place, but I had truly not realized until this moment how actually at risk my life is here.  I had been afraid of sliding down the hill, but honestly had not considered that the hill might yet be falling down on me!


We are far above the sea in many spots, on arid hillsides with wide views of the Pacific Ocean, wider views than my little mind knew were possible.  At other turns in the trail we descend through ferngully-like, lush landscapes and dive through underbrush down to trickling streams making their way to the ocean.  The rises and falls here are dramatic. I am grateful for my daily yoga practice that  keeps my body in tune for this kind of push - the many pushes really, that we are having to make to navigate this landscape with heavy packs on our back.   Returning upwards from one of these low lying ravines, breathing heavily, scrambling up the sketchy little trail, the path ahead looks to be evening out which is a relief to my burning thighs and the heart beat pounding in my ears.  My breath is ragged and my head full of commentary that I am too breathless to speak as we reach the high point of the trail here.  We are back out in the bright hot sun now, with one last burst up the hill before a reprieve.


  Ahead of us is the welcoming density of a shady forest.  As we approach though, it actually feels foreboding, like the forbidden woods in a fairy tale that you know you shouldn’t enter because this is where bad things happen, where the evil witch lives, or some such thing… The branches of the trees are old and scrambled all together, there is a bit of an archway over the path but it is a scraggly, ominous reaching of creepy dark fingers of ancient, failing, falling limbs that both beckon and threaten overhead.  I make jokes about the deep dark forest of the mind, horror movies and such… We are casually chatting and dancing with our imaginations now that we have more breath.  The path turns to the right, back towards the ocean, it’s scent comes in wisps upon the air, though it cannot be seen as now we are in the thick of trees.  The earth to the right of us on this part of the path begins to drop away down into a deep dark gulch.  


Suddenly, we are hushed.  My love pauses me, and I am caught mid-sentence as we stand on the edge of this dark chasm of redwoods, moss, ferns, and ..absolute.. silence…. 


The silence has stunned us into silence.  We cannot even comment about it.  The feeling arising in me is spiritual, it is emotional, it is full body awe and wonder.  I cannot remember ..ever… feeling.. so .. much.. silence…have we shushed the birds?  
Oh, far away.. one. little. sweet tweet,.. birds do live here in this deep, damp, musty and majestic redwood silence.  


Silence.  Wow.  


There are no power lines overhead, no airplanes, the sky is barely peeking through the dense overstory.  There are no far away leaf blowers, there is no incessant beeping, barking, no whir of generators, motors, voices…nothing.  


Stillness overwhelms me.  We stand, planted in reverence to this massive, passive, powerful 
force of nature.  


Creepingly, I  feel sick with the sickness that we live in back home, the constant noise of construction, destruction, vehicles, beeping,  humming of power transformers, buzzing of modems, the noise of everyones phones and conversations, alarms, sirens, signals, radio waves, EMF’s, and noisy white noise machines to drown out the noise of everyones noise living so close to each other, trying to find privacy and feigned silence in the city of Oakland.  We are plagued by noise from all points around us and all points within us.  We are on constant alert.  No wonder meditation is so especially difficult for the city dweller.  We have forgotten what silence and stillness actually feel like… Have I ever actually known? 
 I cannot remember feeling this much profound silence and stillness in my whole life.  I have momentarily sensed it in meditation, tasted in in part, in relatively quite places, between the scramble and flow of thoughts and “shoulds”… but this… this, in an instant is the spacious blissful state sought by those who sit.


I let this expansive, beautiful dark silence drop deep into my being.  I sense the softness of my body, softening, held gently in this resplendent redwood womb.  I surrender to the open wonder of my heart. Nothing in me is gripping.  I melt into the quiet, sublime radiance of the natural world.
 I am.  
I just am… 
This just is.  
This is how I am meant to be.  In harmony with great mother, this blessing of a planet…
 I feel so nourished, so complete. 
 I am at ease.  

​

I will take this with me for life… 

it is winter solstice as i first write this.  I have just gotten home from visiting my mother, the first trip that i can remember returning home from and not feeling depressed about it all.  Magick happened on that visit.  My daughter now sees my mother as "magickal".  Magick has indeed happened for this to be true.  Soon after arriving home i receive a package in the mail from Santa Rita jail - some incredible art with an even more incredible apology that i had given up on years ago after exhausting myself from trying to forgive again and again.  There are so many little points of light arriving with this Solstice, so many seeds that i had planted with thin hopes are finally finding their way to the light... 
This poem (below) was written in the swirls of conversations with a couple of people that ive been having communication challenges with around this same time, feeling despairing... Yet, i remember, and i listen and watch for these moments in life and nature where we are being taught and reminded even in our forgetting and fancies of quitting. 
​I want to acknowledge that i know that none of this is very polished.  This is what I have always thought a BLOG was for and i decided not to change my mind about it BLOGS (such a funny word) are for sharing casual, honest life experience that may help others.  All of your comments and questions are welcome.  May the turning of this year be blissful for you, may you feel steadiness even in the wildest weathers.  Blessed be...


PLANTING SEEDS IN THE DARK

Planting seeds in the dark,
knowing, the light will return
Listening to my heart
hearing her cries as she burns
to death, this waning life
chilling , what once remained warm

I struggle with being alright
w/ wanting more & more
w/ wanting nothing & giving up
because the walls are not giving in
for over them, it is heard to see
the future which ive quested to believe

lying in darkness, cocooned
truthing thru hardness
knowing its difficult to receive 
one who gets so marooned
eacho f us is an island of our own
nto getting what we need
neither giving all for what we plead

i am planting seeds in darkness
knowing the light is coming
trusting the light is coming
hoping...
the light is coming

i listen to your pain in the dark
not knowing what to do with it
knowing, i have something
to do with it

i am the light
you are the light
we are turning
the earth is turning
the moon appears to be turning

sometimes, everyone has just got to
be with their hurting
the heart of each failing 
to feel like we are unworthy

i am planting seeds in the dark
seeds of remembering 
for times of forgetting
things are growing
all is ever changing
we are all worthy

i struggle, i falter
i bow before the altar
all of it, altered
everchanging...
stop wasting life wishing, blaming...

i preach, i pray
i feel in to what to say
i mince my words
chop them up into little bits
scatter them like horse shit
to fertilize what hopes to grow

but why hope?
when one proclaims to trust life

i ask you whats going on with you 
you dont answer most of my questions
you ask me more questions
it is easy to get distracted by these,
talk about myself
altho what is desired is to hear you out

we suffer our silence
our stories become violence
are these words well spent
or best hoarded

i just want to connect
my heart yields 
to prioritize "protect"
mind says, "deflect"
 - this is not yours
yet, alas - we want the same thing

i am still here waiting
for you to take everything
wishing i could teach you how to
take everything & get over it
but thats not really what this is for is it?

Planting seeds in darkness
visiting place of struggle
trusting the light will return

enduring thru doubt
wanting to quit - not quitting

i sit with patience
i work with diligence
i allow myself ease
with the unease

& so in the darkness
despite doubt & hopelessness
despite fear & pain
i witness the turning
experience the cracking open
see seeds planted
release sprouts of new life

i see courageous arms
reaching for the light
feel daring hearts
trusting that they might
be safe to grown and change
to seek their own way

where once it was not seen
now the light grows
vulnerability shows
a powerful grace is rising up
we live, we struggle,
we love, love, love...