I was off all weekend. I couldn’t place the feeling. I knew it was from within, but my newest forms of expression couldn’t release it. I felt conflicted, nauseous, rigid and restless. I finally reached a point where I needed to meditate so I asked my husband for a suggestion.
Meditation isn’t new to me, but it isn’t a routine. He suggested a frequency of sound on repeat so I got in the jacuzzi, put in my earbuds, and closed my eyes. I am comfortable with letting thoughts enter and pass through me. I am comfortable with sitting still and feeing the energy. I am comfortable with focusing my attention on the void. All of this was from my practice as a child when my father used to help me sleep and he’d guide me through the blackness of space and teach me how to enter the aether of nothingness.
What was hard this time though was the tension in my body. Gripping and pulling away from the disruption of energy within me in a vicious attempt to keep the deepness down inside me. It gurgled and strained like the expulsion of my innards would manifest into vomit even though I knew full and well that there was no physical sickness, only the wretched bowels of suppression, anchored to my sacral and clawing to move up, around, and through the rest of my body. Stagnant energy having no escape route until this moment.
That’s when my right arm started to move. It was snaking and drawing energy from the outside in and pulling energy from the inside out. It drew counter clockwise circles, unraveling the snake in my soul that needed permission to rewind and return to the beginning. I felt the heavy question that my husband asked me in the car a couple weeks ago that hadn’t left me since the moment he asked: “Do you think you were a man in previous lives?”
Yes. Yes. Yes. Of course. Duh. Isn’t it obvious? From my feet to my head, a resounding unmistakable series of warrior lives, fighting for survival and hungry for a moment of rest. A carnivorous apex predator hunting for the end of repetitive loneliness and violence. From my internals to my external, it all points to yes. My hubris, my aching body, my small chest, my lack of drive to birth children, my physical strength compared to my small frame, my perception of sex evolving mostly from power and manipulation rather than connection, my right hand dominance, and on and on and on. This overbearing masculinity is consuming my femininity and not allowing any balanced expression. Physically, I’m tense and stiff on my right side and my left feels an achey longing without coordination. Emotionally, it’s essentially the same. Who is this beast inside me?
When I acknowledged this, I cried. And then my left arm took over. It began mirroring the snaking and circular motions, pulling and extending my center away to the left, to the right. Drawing energy back into myself and laying it on my low belly, drawing up towards my heart. The crying behind my eyes shifted colors from blues to purples to red, oranges, and pinks. I could see the mirror of my third eye reflecting back into myself and I could hear it telling me that it’s okay that I’m confused about where to go from here. We’ll go together. Through creativity, through love, through curiosity, through intuition.
I moved and swayed gently in the water feeling my body soften and my energy flow, knowing that deep down I am searching not for clarity between feminine and masculine, but for balance between the two. A language that both can speak simultaneously to guide me forward.
I have a women’s gathering tonight and a conversation with a new energy healer tomorrow. It feels like the universe is gifting me what I so desperately need–a support network that allows me to nurture myself in both worlds, seeing not the singular identity, but the wholeness of energy.
I am typing that I did not edit this post and it was a free flow of thoughts. I am proud of myself for allowing myself to express without judgment or critique. I am what I am in this moment and it feels like finding my inner self. More of this feeling would be welcomed.
