I met my shaman

CIMG0122
Yes, I know, I know. It sounds weird.
You ask how could I tell?
There was nothing extraordinary - the encounter was easy simply because of the long preparation before the moment.
There was nothing trapped and hidden and instead it felt like a release. I was able talk quite openly as if I had known my shaman forever.
I am being saved differently and going into the dark fungus and inhabiting its eco system, letting go all the time
in the lines out loud where my shaman watches over me

Being curious

I love this from Pema Chodron …

Our wisdom is all mixed up with what we call our neurosis. Our brilliance, our juiciness, our spiciness, is all mixed up with our craziness and our confusion, and therefore it doesn’t do any good to try to get rid of our so-called negative aspects, because in that process we also get rid of our basic wonderfulness. We can lead our life so as to become more awake to who we are and what we’re doing rather than trying to improve or change or get rid of who we are or what we’re doing. The key is to wake up, to become more alert, more inquisitive and curious about ourselves.

Wisdom of No Escape

Courage

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. ee cummings


In the long descent into the dark fungus I forgot who I really was. I thought that courage was all about burying the stuff. Locking it up. Not going there. Shutting down. In that place the fungus took over and spread, sapping the energy of courage and who I was. Slow strangulation. Funny how the act of burial meant I was addicted to self, preoccupied. The opposite was not true. Not sure where I found the courage to go to the burial ground of my emotions and dig them up. But I became the archaeologist of my own soul. It’s not always been nice and I am not all grown up yet and who I really am is being worked on. There are bits of the dark stuff hanging around but that’s OK.


The only poetry

There is no poetry in breast cancer,
except to closely observe 
how she deals with it 
- incredibly courageous,
with no drama. 

If I were to take her place, 
I would be a crumpled heap 
in the corner full of self-pity. 

Not her.
She is the living 
embodiment, someone 
who simply shows courage
in the awfulness of chemo, 
the toxins that make her feel 
constantly ill. 

Courage is not 
the absence 
of facing up to 
the dread of the
next treatment. 
She lives, 
breathes courage.

I am in awe of the poetry she lives out.