The Power of Witnessing One Another

Scribbling with pastels in an attempt to release some of this confusion energy.

Yesterday I was in pain. My head felt like a bowling ball that I was loathe to lift. Nausea came in waves. My right hip ached and shot arrows of fire down my leg. I felt weary to the bone with energetic upgrades, isolation, my small world, my sensitivity to every external stimulus as if it were a snare drum blasting me. Blasted open is what I am. Raw and sore with no idea how to move. I lie in the patch of sunlight streaming in and sang out my frustration. It was low and guttural, then high, my mouth stretched in strange shapes. This body felt like sandbags of lead were strapped on all over. Maybe I am Gulliver, pinned to the earth by a thousand tiny threads. When will I awaken from this dream?

My heart feels and knows that there are miracles ahead, that the land of my dreams is being created at this very moment. But I cannot touch it. My son calls and asks how I am . The tears fall freely then. Amazing how the sound of love and caring can undo us in a moment. I felt that I was in a deep trench in the earth, curled up in the mud and he came and sat beside me with his strong love. There is enormous power in this witnessing. I have been asked to do that for a few friends of late and realized that I want to be clearer in this. I tend to bring in the voice of my story, my emotions when what is required is being this silent field of love. I know that I can do this. Oh my,  to be held in that space is wondrous. There may be tears, raging, words tumbling about…….all being expelled to uncover the kernals of truth that are sitting in the depths of our being. It is difficult to access these on our own. We are a tribal peoples, we need others to sit with us in our pain, our joy, our humanness.

I rewatched a movie recently, Lars and the Real Girl, (netflix instant movie if you are interested) and in one scene when the young man is in despair as his “real girl” is very ill, the women of the village show up with casseroles and their knitting. They tell him that they have come to “sit” with him, that that is what folks do in times of trouble. I was so struck by that. It is the energy we want to create in our new world. Love that supports without judgment of another, seeing and holding each other in such tenderness. Every person treasured for the unique gift that they bring.

I went to get groceries and this bright bouquet was the food my heart craved.

My son allowed me to release the pent up frustration of this void space so many of us have been in. A spurt of creativity flows and I feel the excitement, only to have it flee as quickly as I assemble my art supplies and begin to paint. I feel tired of everything I have ever been, ever done. Old, old. There is no energy to move forward and nothing worth striving for. There is only the heart to anchor in to.  There is nothing of the old that can be brought to the new. There is only feeling each moment fully so that is does not have to circle around once again to be experienced.

A moment of pure joy hit me as I felt myself as the sun and witnessed it exploding in my chest. Oh, I am that! Love, unfiltered, flowed like wine in my veins, drink me, it said. Liquidlovelight is an elixir that makes me feel dozy, dreamy, delicious.

We are on the extreme ride, terrifying anxiety one moment, waves of nausea threaten to overwhelm us, followed by shocking jolts of joy as this roller coaster of a life moves deeper into the new energies of home. I am grateful that I am not alone. Grateful for your witnessing of my ups and downs and turnarounds. Today, my head is lighter yet confusion reigns. Sitting with it, allowing it breathing space. That is all I know. To witness myself without judgment and thank God, sometimes with a great deal of mirth.