Breath of Fire

In the last month I've embraced fire is my kindred element. Earlier in the fall, when I felt my heart on fire, it kept re-appearing in my life--a burning release ritual with my spiritual friends, re-painting my studio a rich "Earth Henna," a late night bonfire, my creation of an enso-fire tattoo design, and most recently, this piece of autonomic artwork representing my heart-stomach.

My current relationship toward fire is more than a metaphor, it is fueling a deep healing process. It is a passionate, simmering energy that is affording me intensity and patience. Importantly, it is the force that is allowing me to easily burn away many long-held patterns, cravings, people and ways of being that don't serve, don't resonate, and don't support this process.

There's a certain violence that comes with holding fire, with which I'm not incredibly comfortable. I am doing my best to let it travel freely. I am, though, more comfortable with the sight which its light offers. I'm seeing and observing new dimensions of the old, and being introduced to the newly discovered (but not "new" by any means). This is my poetic description of a very exciting yet extremely frightening day-to-day unfolding.

Engulfed in a devastating break-up from my partner of three years, and an overall difficult emotional year, I went on a three-day self-retreat at a beautiful, local park in Northern Virginia. There, I meditated and journaled on a cliff each morning, and hiked trails each afternoon. I had amazing friends check-in with me by phone at designated times to rely where I was, and to hear their feedback, and encouragement. At the end, I left more peaceful, but less grounded. I confronted some of my repressed pain of the past year, and fed elaborate delusions about where I was and the future, at the same time.

Weeks later I felt more grounded than before. I suffered the shattering of my mountain-top delusions almost immediately after I returned. I shed a lot of responsibilities that felt non-essential to create space for myself. I began to take my chronic stomach pain more seriously. I re-committed to regular acupuncture with wise, knowledgeable dear friend and counselor. I felt particularly fragile, tender-hearted, and self-assured.

Acupuncture opened the door to the truth that my gut pain was connected to earlier childhood fears, which manifested through my relationships with my mother and ex. I had never taken the "inner child" seriously before then. The first step was permitting this trauma to speak for itself through my body because my conscious mind had repressed feelings for so long that it no longer recognized pain as pain. More recently, acupuncture has brought to surface various aches and irritations that were my coping mechanisms -- comfort eating, intellectual escape, etc. Acupuncture, for some, is their main method for healing deep trauma; in my case, it is the practice that tells the truth for me so that I can continue the healing.

Around the same time my acupuncture practice was deepening, I read an important book that reinforced my acupuncture work, and spontaneous inner-child experience, called "When the Body Says No: Exploring the Stress-Disease Connection." I read a whole chapter about myself, in the class of Irritable Bowel Syndrome sufferers, who suppress anger and other feelings as addictive care-takers.

I understood this observation because whenever I had a hard relationship conversation with my former partner I had intense stomach pain, and frequented the bathroom. (Let me also add that much of our relationship was very healing in that I had been much, much more vulnerable and intimate with her than I ever thought possible in a relationship.)

Nonetheless, this book gifted me with a way to explain the connection between my emotional triggers and physiological response, of which my conventional medical doctors either didn't know or under-estimated.

I gained more insight into my emotional trigger through a book that I finished on Christmas Day, called "Shadows on the Path" by Abdi Assadi, a hella-grounded ex-junkie, body worker and therapist based in NYC. I was always moved by his recorded workshops, many of which I listened to while on my mini-retreat, including a very memorable "dying practice" exercise. His book culminates his warnings against gurus, and observations from studying a wide range of spiritual/emotional practices, from martial arts to shamanism. A helpful passage:

"Robert Bly wrote my favorite book on the topic [of human shadows] called A Little Book On The Human Shadow. In it he pictures the shadow as a big, invisible bag that we each drag behind us. As children, we unconsciously put the parts of ourselves our parents didn't like into that bag. Due to our desperaate want and need of our parents' love an disapproval we felt compelled to disown and bury the parts of ourselves that might threaten that love...

By the time we reach adulthood, our bag is overflowing with suppressed material such as anger, wildness, greed, rudeness, silliness, spontaneity, selfishness or sexuality. Any part that is not acknowledged or that we are shamed by gets dumped in. This unconscious act of hiding our socially unaccepted pieces can lead to a huge loss of vitality. Repressing an aspect of oursevles takes energy on two levels: it takes effort to keep the material repressed and the repression denies us access to the natural viality contained in that part of oursevles.

What's inside that bag is as much who we are as the 'nice' or socially accepted aspects. It's like somebody teaching us to be ashamed of our left arm, so we always keep it out of sight under our clothes. We act as if we have only one arm, which in itself takes energy, and at the same time we end up using only one half of our upper body strength." pp. 48 - 49.

The page goes on to discuss the shadow of anger. I'm beginning to uncover that although I am very loving parents, there was a long stretch of time where they were consumed by their own addictions and demons, so that I had to take on responsibility for my emotional well-being and that of my brother. I did this while living a  dissociative life where I was barely surviving at home, but thriving at school, on sports teams, etc. I developed a deep fear of abandonment, and the coping mechanism of care-taking.

The compulsive care-taking denies my own vulnerability with family, friends, and notably partners. If I'm taking care of someone else, I'm distanced from my own emotional and psychic needs. As Abdi shares, this pattern is the ultimate ego-trip. My long-time investment into the fiction that I'm needed is all about me in an undermining sense.

I've been able to stay on the care-taking wheel because I've told myself that true vulnerability, in which those around me can witness and be a part of all of the mess, and beauty that is "Richael" is really too much to ask any person to hold. (Only recently have I begun letting close friends in the same way that I've at least mimicked with partners.) The way to help myself isn't to just identifying and undoing the pattern--the cure is self-love. As I learn to love my shadow, I anticipate that the rest will undo with little effort.

Of course, this deepening is supported by a lot of smaller practices like daily meditation, regular yoga, an audio diary, poetry-writing/art-making, reiki, whole foods and naturopathy, and new adventures with friends. I have a few healing partners whom I playing critical roles in my practice in vulnerability & accountability. I am also seeking out other supports as they make sense to do.

For example, I am doing zero-balancing as a complement to acupuncture, to facilitate some of the deep-healing body work that I need, along with therapeutic massage to help with the pains that surface, as my old coping mechanisms go away. I am also planning to see a shaman later in January for a soul retrieval, to uncover sacral and solar plexus charka damage from past lives, which are contributing to my stomach pain, and which I uncovered through reiki, zero-balancing, and acupuncture.

I hope to be intentional about the practices and people that I'm inviting in, not seeing anyone that I could see because I need "healing." I'm also taking my time because this is literally a life-long process.

So I'm entering 2013 with a dramatic shift in how I am experiencing and moving through the world. Interestingly a lot of close friends and new friends are making similar choices, and thriving; others are struggling to find a way forward.

Integration is my theme for the New Year, the Age of Aquarius. I know that many of you are on the same healing path, which we are doing for our loved ones past and present, and really, all beings.

Many blessings, stay encouraged, and please let me know if I can support your journey.

Cheers,
R.

PS - Some of y'all know that the Breath of Fire is a kundalini yoga breathing technique. It's my favorite yoga practice and I find it extremely challenging to do properly.