In my last post I talked about the vital need to share our stories, so that we can create purpose, kindness and harmony from the ashes of our chaotic world. I promised in this post to share a personal story. It feels so important to me, at this time in my life and in our times to name, re-frame and claim our stories. Each of these pieces carries its own challenges. To name something requires discernment and making a choice.
I am a large woman. I started putting on weight in grad school, then stayed steady and at menopause gained more weight. The reality is that I’ve been a large woman only half of my life, but I’ve been called fat since before I was in school. I remember a specific instance when I was told I shouldn’t be able to wear my brother’s pants. The message I got was that boys are bigger and therefore I was too big. I was about 5 years old. The brother in question was 3-1/2. When I look at old pictures, I see that I was perfectly normal and healthy. I was beautiful in my high school prom picture. I remember boys hitting on me, but I thought they were making fun of me. You see I what I felt and saw in the mirror never matched what my family and the world seemed to be telling me. When it came to physicality, I didn’t know what to trust.
Now, I work as a psychic and empath. I’m really good at working between the worlds. It’s a place that’s separate from the physical. It’s mysterious, engaging and inspiring. And not trusting my physicality seemed to have no bearing.
I need to say that my size has not been a stumbling block in my life. I was often told I was pretty; I’ve always known that I’m smart, witty and creative. I’ve had a good life. I’ve lived a very focused life – focused on my work and being of service to the world. I’ve been happy. But I have not been truly connected to my body – my physicality has always been less significant to me.
In the last few years, I’ve experienced inflammation, significant joint pain, teeth issues and low energy. The doctors take one look at me and assume I have heart issues. They cling to that despite tests that indicate only that “I might have a mild issue.” They offered no other guidance – and because of the traumatic tests and their shrug of shoulders when it wasn’t what they thought – I didn’t follow through. The truth is, I have limited mobility and that scares me.
Re-frame: I’ve been playing a shame and blame game around my body for the last couple years and in my anxiety as I searched for the right foods and answers to my body’s issues – I’ve gotten worse. Then Spider Woman came to me in a journey and taught me a few things about being an empath. Because we’re so sensitive to those around us, empaths often lose track of themselves, of who they are. As a result, we’re often on a lifetime quest to find home. After chatting, Spider Woman challenged me to find the guideposts upon which to build the web of my life. These guideposts are constant – even when we shed old webs and stop onto new ones. She suggested that my anxiety about not knowing home was directly linked to not identifying my guideposts – and to my physical health. My life’s web is not attached to a physical structure upon which I can rely. When you find your guideposts, you will immediately know how to trust them. Your work between the worlds is beautiful, but you must learn to return to and honor your physical structure.
This journey with Spider Woman happened just before the solar eclipse this last August and I have been looking for my guideposts ever since. I wasn’t sure where to find them or even what sort of thing a guidepost might be. Tonight, Heimdallr – via the Oracle of Initiation Deck – made it very clear. “Heimdallr’s glowing portal requires incorporation of the missing element, earth, to balance the passage between the worlds.” I have spent my life holding my physicality (my earth) as insignificant. Now I see it’s the missing element.
My first guidepost: I am a sensual nature being. I know the absolute truth of this, immediately. But where is this guidepost? It feels like it’s in an overgrown and neglected garden – like in the Secret Garden movie. Like that garden, it seems walled off and locked but I know it has wick; it is alive.
Claim: My quest then is to unlock the garden and tend to it, to uncover this, my first guidepost. I commit to doing that and to sharing the journey as part of my sacred story. It feels raw and vulnerable to make this commitment. Voices in my head are asking all sorts of questions – like, what if they think you’re ridiculous or crazy, … But another voice is telling me that this part of storytelling is not about the listeners; it’s about the person living the story and watching it unravel. And another voice is smiling and simply asking me if I’m going to walk my talk. Yes, I choose to risk sharing my story so that you may know my heart.
As I was searching for photos for this post, I found some from 2010 when I participated in Mellissae Lucia’s Painted Body Initiation. I realize that experience was a ritual engagement with this guidepost – but I didn’t understand its significance. The link will take you to a post about that experience. Can you sense the guidepost in the experience?
Thank you for witnessing my story. ~ Lena