Wednesday, March 23, 2011

BORN AGAIN!

I am in the heart of my third round of breathwork and shamanic minister training, and while these events have been the inspiration for much of my writing, I have not until today blogged from the workshop. I am sitting on the deck outside the octagonal meditation lodge. The day is overcast by a veil of clouds but still quite light. I am facing due south according to the adjoining medicine wheel, and the breath of spirit is blowing into my eyes with some force.

I journeyed this morning and experienced my first rebirthing. I have not been the most active traveler on the breathwork floor. On my first journey I laughed and cried; I flew and I swam in the ocean; I danced around the tribal drum and I sang out loud. Afterward my partner told me I barely moved and though she saw my mouth move, there were no audible sounds. I have stayed within myself, somewhat shy even when I have run along the shamanic path.

The habit of quietness is built in; it is hard-wired. And it has served me to sit back and observe, to reflect and to analyze. I have mentioned before that when I first moved to Sedona I sat in the sacred circles for three months before I spoke. My friends refer to that time as “the good old days”. I need new friends.

I have become progressively more active in my breathwork journeys and that coincides with a parallel opening and more active movement into the outer world. As within, so without. As above, so below. This morning, in my breathwork journey, I sat up for the first time and rocked to the rhythm of the energetic music.

My co-journeyer, Karen, rubbed my back and I leaned forward into an unintentional child pose and felt like I was sinking into the floor. She instinctively moved to put pressure on my shoulders and I started pushing. I did not push too hard at first because the sensation of rocking and the resistance and the darkness was pleasant and comforting.

I continued to push and my space became constricted as I began to struggle to be born. Karen held me between her legs as Star Wolf encouraged me to push and to fight for life. When she invited me to vocalize, I found myself yelling so forcefully that later my throat felt raw. Star Wolf let me take her hand and urged me to claw and to kick my way out. Karen held me tightly like she was trying to keep me in the womb. When I would have quit the struggle all together, I was commanded to kick myself free, and I did.

When I was out, I collapsed exhausted into the arms of these two amazing and beautiful women. And they held me like I cannot remember ever being held by my genetic mother. Star Wolf whispered in my ear that I was welcomed, that I was wanted; that I was loved very much, and I cried like a baby. (Because that’s exactly what I was.)

These women held me for the longest time and I remember thinking that they should just let me go and attend to someone who needed them more. At one point I had a twinge of anxiety for being cared for so closely and for so long.

I was not unwanted by my own mother, and I was not unloved. She did the best she could. It is significant though that I perceive that I was neglected as a child. My father died when I was quite young and my mother seemed, to me, understandably preoccupied with her daily pursuits and with my sisters.

It doesn’t matter if I imagined or constructed this scenario because it was real to me. And it is the source of my deepest wounding. It is the wounding that created deep-seated and unconscious patterns in my tissues that have been repeatedly triggered and activated ever since. These patterns have shown themselves most frequently in my intimate relationships. And it is only in exposing them to the light of day and noticing them when they arise that they do not continue to cripple me and keep me short of my happiness.

We are all wounded. And we all continue to be buffeted by unseen forces that seem to be beyond our control. I am thankful for the breathwork and other experiences which have brought my shadow into the light and transformed much of my unconscious stuff into consciousness.

Please don’t misunderstand – I’m not done yet. And I’m grateful to all the others who have come into my awareness and held me when I was raw and when I was in pain; all these beautiful souls who have hugged so much of my resistance out of me.

Look at the website for Venus Rising to learn more about Shamanic BreathWork and to begin your own Shamanic Journey.  http://shamanicbreathwork.org/

2 comments:

  1. Wow John! A terrific personal account of your journey. You truly have a gift of expression that brings the reader right in with you. Congratulations on the birthing milestone.

    Lucas N.

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  2. John, thank you for sharing this profound moment in your life. The ability to uncover and move through the unconscious pieces that hold us back is beautiful and gives us all hope.
    Much Love,
    Lisa

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