During this morning’s somatic sitting meditation / visualization / conversation / magic-making, the Deer guarding the sacred Tree of Life had me stretch my heart open and flip it inside out as if my heart needed a new skin like a Snake.
I was with this small movement of hands and wrists, connected to elbows connected to shoulder blades, for some time. When the energy finally came to a rest—hands in front of heart holding a ball of energy there—I couldn’t help but hold tighter and stroke my chest. Emotion started to surface. Some part of me was frightened of these new sensations of expanding open heart.
After giving some space to this frightened self to feel, I proposed many questions and prayers to Tree and Deer. Instead of staying there in the fear as I usually do, I asked them for help and for deep understanding of this new movement.
A few days ago I had an actual encounter with a very tall Spruce Tree and several Deer. In that conversation / small dance / visualization / InbodyNature, Spruce Tree showed me how to stand in and with The All without the limitation of binaries—above/below, left/right, masculine/feminine, in/out, me/you, separateness/oneness…
As I stood with my body perfectly split, one side in Tree’s shadow and the other lightened by Sun, the sensation was of simultaneously focusing inward to my centerline, and using my huge ears that live both on the sides of my head and in all my cells to reach out beyond my personal field into the organism of Nature all around.
Thump Thump to my right, Thump Thump
Is that my heart?
How far away is that?
Right here. No, over there.
Afraid to ruin the magic, I resist opening my eyes or turning my head and stay with sensing. Waiting ‘til my heart stops racing, coming back in to centerline, relaxing.
I slowly open my eyes and twist torso and head to the right.
Ok, back to Tree self centerline.
Curiosity pulIs. I twist further like Owl aalll the waay around this time.
—“Well, hello there.”—
Wide-eyed, we all hold our breath.
They giggle with their tail and flesh twitching.
We both sigh and Deer returns to eating, every so often lifting their head—ears rotating to listen.
As they eventually stroll away I sink my whole body flat, face down, into the side of the Hill I am on. Inhaling it all, I rest.
Needing to find my standing self again, I rise to face Spruce Tree and listen.
I hesitate to put into words what I heard because I’m a fledgling in this learning, but I believe in documenting growth:
Boundaries are a sacred honoring of how each movement one makes has a ripple effect. A sense of boundaries and safety are a natural result of one’s connection to the living organism of Earth. And it’s here that trust will be found between so-called different species. It’s connected.
In this teaching from Spruce Tree, I feel the sickness of white colonial culture and how it separates everything! It’s because of this dishonoring that we are able to live in a constant state of violating and being violated!
And what does all that have to do with worms? hahaha
After this morning’s sitting practice on my walk in the Santa Fe River, the day after a flash flood, I’m drawn down with fascination to the Muddy Ground. Feathery lines become spiral upon spiral. Worm trails. No, Worm Art. Maybe it’s their last testaments, writing their stories while in the process of rescuing themselves. Stretching as long as possible, trying to dry themselves off after the Storm, and searching for safe, dry Earth. Some find it and burrow back under. Others, exposed, are easily plucked for Crow’s breakfast.
The point being, or the question I’m struggling with in this blog, is what should remain privately sacred and what’s meant to be shared? Is it ok to post something I’m still very much learning about?
Maybe the worms are the counterbalance to the experience with Deer. Maybe Worm tells us, “Don’t forget that even when we have enlightened moments, we’re still Worm, small and vulnerable to Storms that drown us and to being food for Crows. And, even then, when we feel like the lowest, filthiest being, we still create beauty—Messages in Mud of our suffering and hopes.”
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