A conscious birth

Earth day was a fabulous [re]birthday that not even I had planned.

Grateful for a slower pace on Wednesday, I made my way to my monthly shamanic-counseling appointment. It wasn't until I crept in my quiet Prius down the long, leaf-cloaked lane and into the path that circles the house and spied an extra car that I realized I was two hours too early. Forgot to check my calendar.

No worries, I'll just head to the nearby library and spend some time reflecting on what I desire from this session. I untucked my laptop, logged in and searched spiritual companionship. I have felt in desperate need of some. I landed on a page about developing a partnership of trust and I realized I already possess that relationship with my shaman.

And, then I began to think that even if I don't have one, constant spiritual companion, I have many. That revelation was reassuring and reminded me of the idea of looking for the helpers at given times in life. Fred Roger's learned that tip from his mother:

"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, m mother would say to me 'Look  for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.'" 

I have been looking for helpers in pointing me in the right direction, so I continued scouring the website. Reading deeper, my breath left for a moment learning about a process that will reset your body's cells on a primal and transformative level, erasing patterns of illness. YEP, that's what I was looking for ahead of my appointment.

Three times in recent months, wise people have suggested I look at childhood trauma and its connection with my fibromyalgia. I couldn't locate any until I went all the way back ... to birth.

I always knew this was me/pastel and paint on paper

I returned to my shaman peaceful and focused on undertaking a rebirthing process. He was delighted to accommodate me and  was open for whatever would transpire. We talked a bit about how our birth circumstances cast a shadow our entire life. I told him that all my mother remembers is being knocked out and that I came head first, my sister, feet first five minutes later. I was lovingly teased as a child that I was really red and had a pointed head after birth. It wasn't easy being the first out and, likely, assisted by forceps. I always told my sister she kicked me out to make sure it was safe.

My shaman helped me understand that whatever happens to the mother happens to the child and with my mother unconscious, I was as well and that's the state I return to during transitions. He confirmed this with his own birth story.

I am definitely in transition, moving a studio, re-evaluating my path and living in the cloud of unknowing for the moment. I want to be clear and aware, not asleep. I want to consciously choose what's next by listening to Spirit.

On the massage table, I rebirthed myself in a rhythmic, gentle and intentioned way guided by my spiritual companion. He asked me to hold out my arms (my eyes were closed through the process, probably a nod to my unconscious birth) and accept the baby. As I did, a flood of memories of my birth, those of my daughters and the accident that set off the fibromyalgia opened, followed by effusive light and a sense of empowerment not unlike when I feel unconscious. There's a distinct, but very thin line.

Almost a week later, I am letting that experience settle down into my core and re-arrange my cells. My awareness has been shifted and I am not anxious about my current state of unknowing because I know Spirit is with me – always. I know it in every cell now, thanks to this rebirthing.

This transition as a matter of choice is more clear. Taking contemplative time to sort it out is my path.

Saturday, my daughters and I ventured out in the wicked, torrential rain to shop at Ikea and gorge on their coffee and real cream. I almost asked my 17-year-old to drive, but decided she wasn't experienced enough in heavy rain on the highway. Traffic was moving pretty quickly when, oddly, the sun broke through in patchy places, actually decreasing visibility. As I began to exit for another highway, I noticed cars crumpling like toys one into another. I instantly knew not to head in that direction and forced the car out into traffic with no opportunity to look. I employed the brakes and came to a stop. Not one car was anywhere near us. I let out a sigh and don't really remember getting to Ikea, though it was safely. My youngest felt sick after seeing cars pile into each other, My oldest emerged with a bear hug and a "Mom, I wouldn't have known what to do."

I sent them off to shop, while I recovered with a coffee. I was steady and not unnerved. I began to wonder if others were hurt, so decided to check online. I found no notice of the accident, but a news story about a fatal shooting the night before. One block from where we had been about the same time.

THANK YOU, God, I silently screamed ... for keeping us safe and letting me know clearly that I am still here because that's what you want. The earlier message I'd receives "not to jump into anything" had become "not to jump into anything ELSE" but God's arms.

I sit here still stunned by the string of incidents, grateful and wondering if by experiencing the pain I have tried to escape all these years simply means I am fully awake. Not unconscious.

• What's my birth story?
• Can I see its impact or patterns in my life?
• How could I create opportunity for rebirth?
• Where do I find the comfort and understanding of spiritual companions?
• When have I felt full awake?


weeks melting into
months, morphing
into years

trying to
escape the
pain

which had
a very real
lesson

wake up
wake up

I have put
you here

life is a
gift

not a
burden

Listen to this post:

Unpeeling our hearts

Listen to post; 2 sections:

What's this Easter thing all about? I've been asking myself that question for awhile, but particularly as I complete a Bible study on the Gospel of Luke. I guess I'm frustrated at how easily everyone else seems to accept how God sacrifices Jesus for us. No discussion though I am full of questions, but not comfortable enough to voice them. In some ways, it makes absolutely no sense to me. If God is all-powerful and loving then why was this pre-ordained?

The only way I can piece it together is that God gave up what he loved most, his child, to show us how much he does, indeed, love us. And, yes, it wasn't God who killed Jesus, but we humans. Honestly, I'm not even sure how much it matters to me whether this is fact or metaphor. I still burn to understand its personal meaning and relevance.

After centering prayer with the accompanying Thomas Keating passage*, I may be making some progress.

"The heart of the Easter Mystery is our personal discovery of intimacy with God."

Here's something that moves me deeply and closer to an answer. Perhaps because God is Divine and we are human, we needed a bonding agent, Jesus, who was human and Divine, to seal that connection. It also triggers a memory and I pull out a handmade book I once gave to Autumn:

Waking Up
For Autumn, Easter 2004

Just like autumn, spring is a season with its own identity and beauty.

Instead of falling leaves of every imaginable color, brisk chills in the air and a steamy cup of hot chocolate, spring is flowers pushing their way through the dirt, the smell of gentle rains awakening the earth and the returning sweet sounds of birds.

It's also the story of Jesus, the man, who, much like the fall, dies away. But, also like the spring, is reborn.

Easter is a significant part of spring for Christians, people who believe Jesus is the best example of how to live and love.

The simple version of Jesus' life is that God (God isn't human, but we'll call God a "she" in this story) wanted to show the world how much she loved every creature and thing that was a part of it. She chose to send down a special baby to Mary and Joseph because it is hard for us to know just how much God loves us. She thought her son, in a human form, could best let us know and share that love.

Jesus was that baby, who grew to be a young man and taught people about God's love – always there – and that we should love ourselves and each other in the same way. Jesus was an unusual teacher; he didn't just talk about love, he showed it. By healing the sick, loving the poor and spending time with those most people would not. He didn't judge them, just loved them. And as he loved them, they became better people, more able to love themselves and others.

Jesus taught people the golden rule: treat others as you would want them to treat you. It was also one of God's 10 Commandments [she gave them to Moses long before Jesus was born; they were rules for living peacefully]: Love your neighbor as yourself.

That was not an easy rule for people to understand in Jesus' time [speaking of time, did you know that the Romans began the calendar we have by counting time the year after Jesus died? People felt his life and teaching were that important] and many people resented Jesus for showing them a different, more-loving way to live. But, that's exactly why God sent Jesus, to show us how to live with love and peace. People that didn't understand that decided the world would be better without Jesus. So they arrested Jesus, gave him a trial and decided he would die.

God, because God is God and knows everything, was aware this would happen and sent baby Jesus to earth anyway. God made Jesus strong and loving so Jesus would accept his death, knowing that he was only dying from his human body and that his life and lessons would live on in the hearts of many.

Jesus told those who loved him not to be sad because, although it would be not be easy for him to suffer the pain of his death [not all death is painful, bus Jesus' was] or those he loved to watch, he would return in three days and live forever in another form.

When loved ones went to the place where Jesus' body was buried, it was empty and an angel told them Jesus had been resurrected. Resurrected means to come back to life. 

That's a big word with a big meaning. While you can't see Jesus like your mother or father, you can still know his love and the love of God in many different ways. How do you feel when you hold a baby kitten? Or when you have special time with Mimi? How about when something bad happens and you know it will be all right?

Do you remember that awful night when you were burned by hot coffee? Do you remember how brave you were and how, all the way to the hospital in the ambulance, we held hands and said we loved each other? That happened because we share the love of Jesus and God and that love was with us then, just as it always is – even when we don't know or feel it.

There are ways to feel it. One of those is by praying or talking to God or Jesus. I find I talk best to them when I am very quiet and thinking about nothing else but listening for God. I pretend to unpeel my heart, like an onion, and hand it to God in the palms of my hands. Whenever I do, I feel my body tingle all over and I know God is listening, even touching me. Sometimes I start rocking back and forth, back and forth without thinking about it. That's when God is giving me a big hug. A hug so tight and deep I feel it in every bone, muscle and cell of my body. I also feel like hugging someone else in the same way.

I used to think there was only one way to pray and that was to say it out loud in front of people. I now know that is one way to pray, but not the only way. I pray when I am making art, writing in my journal [I am praying now as I write this story because God is speaking to me by giving me the words], doing yoga ... anytime I am listening or talking to God.

Resurrection means being born again from a painful experience and being a better person because of it. It happens to us over and over. Kind of like how you healed after being burned and how you saw other children with much worse burns at Shriners', so now you know the fear and hurt they felt and you want to comfort them.

Spring is also a time of rebirth. When the daffodils and tulips break through the earth and unfold their color. When the robins and Canada geese arrive, singing that spring is here. When the leaves bud, then gradually bloom on the trees, shading us from the warming sun. When the yard smells of honeysuckle and the butterflies come back to the garden. When the seeds we plant poke up and the green sprouts push off that seed.

It's a good reminder to think about love again; how Jesus loves and how we should love others.

...
Hummmmm ... maybe I wasn't so far off in that children's story for Autumn eight years ago.

• What does Easter mean to me?
• How has that interpretation evolved as I have grown?
• What has opened me to Easter's meaning?
• Who's is Jesus to me?
• What lessons of Jesus speak most deeply to me?


*The Daily Reader for Contemplative Living by Father Thomas Keating