A Knotted Ball

Back in May, I reached out to Sallie. I had been noticing threads that were all interconnected, all interwoven and knotted together- like a big bramble. I have visually seen this black knotted ball in my third eye for a while now, although the realization and awareness of threads that it was composed of was new. It was clear to me that having some supportive guidance and perspective would be necessary to see, feel and unpack it. So, for the past say 12ish weeks I have been head, eye, throat, chest, waist, thigh and knee deep in this. This stuff, sometimes it is muck or sledge, slick and dense, murky and stagnant. Other times it is clear, light, cool and refreshing, bubbly and effervescent. All of the times it is work.

I am doing the work. I am showing up, facing myself, seeing the deep wounds and gaping gaps. Feeling the pain and anger and anguish. The confusion and disillusionment. The deep desire for connection and approval, and all of the ways I hustle for it. The self doubt, comparison and various levels of shame. The physical sensations of boiling blood, fuming steam, clenched jaw, tightened fists – at times signaling my body on alert to run, hide and escape. Other times I am noticing that my body is trying to get my attention, as to say, “something is here, something is here to tend to, to be curious about. Sit, stay, explore this.” 

I have wallowed in it all- at times from a place of exploration, other times out of deep pity and sadness. Sometime in mid-August, I wrote in my journal “if it is here, I might as well wallow in it, get comfortable with it, see what it really feels like.” I’ve been noticing that there have been times when I haven’t allowed myself to feel and stuff rises up now with full force and power, other times it is a slow leakage of tears that take me by surprise or a vengeful anger and beginning feelings of resentment that I have in some way felt a boundary of mine has been crossed or encroached upon.

It feels like an undoing, a dismantling, a bringing it all down- sometimes crashing, other times burning. Actually burning- I have been burned by hot water, felt an immense burning heat sensation after being stung and bit by a harvest ant and then being stung by a bee, the latter resulting in so much heat and inflammation. And this, all of this that is upon me, within me and around me is accompanied by the loss of physical things too. I have had four pairs of shoes either break, get chewed up or split at the soul (isn’t that an interesting mistype). I’ve had clothes rip, go missing, get left behind.  And I have not been able to send attachments, upload anything or activate links.

These are all signs and signals to me that I am clearly undoing, dismantling, cleaning and clearing. For what? I am not sure. I have been finding myself asking this question a lot. I have been exploring this notion of comparison, this notion that I am supposed to be done learning, should have already completed whatever this is, that I need to move on. That I am supposed to already know, that I am supposed to be somewhere else, somewhere beyond this, ahead of this, somewhere other than here.

And yet, here is where I find myself. Again and again and again.

It’s easy to find the words, the words that sound right, like I have it all figured out. The catchy phrases and sayings that are encouraging, uplifting and wise. I have them. I know them first hand from experience- I am taken care of. All is provided for me. I have no needs. Trust the timing. All is unfolding in alignment. I say I know them first hand because I have experienced this time and time again. This beauty. This grace. This love. This support. The encouragement. The interconnectedness. The togetherness. I am not alone. And while I am not alone, this is my work and only my work to do.

Just yesterday I had such a heavy feeling in my heart, a deep sadness of hurt. I tried to explain, to find the words and I really couldn’t. I thought to myself, what does it matter. It is not for anyone else to understand, get or grasp. It is not for them. I am not talking for them. And talking for me was not helping. So, I went silent. Not because I didn’t have anything to say, because me talking was not helping or aiding me in any way.

And this silence has been here for some time. I have not really been sharing my voice, written or spoken. I’ve noticed that my energy is and has been low and I am choosing where I want to invest it and trying to locate words to convey how I am thinking or feeling- at times feels like more work.  I have been exploring other means of expression- dance, movement and painting with a couple different types of mediums. I have been listening to music and reading poems, finding connection to my emotions and feelings through the words of others. And I have been enjoying long bouts and stretches of silence. Not talking and also being in quiet spaces without other sounds around. I have actually been seeking them out, noticing how loud and how much sound there is around me all of the time. Within, with the constant narration and discussion in my mind. Without in the external environments of life.

All the while giving myself the permission, allowing me to be.

Allowing me to be me.

With a hug,

Sara

PS. While listening to a yoga Nidra, after typing this piece, this message was delivered from my heart space:

“Allowing myself to be me means allowing myself to be. To be messy, to not be put together, to have feelings and show emotion, to not be perfect, to not have to hold it together, to not have to put on a front to present, feel like I have to be a certain way in front of certain people.”