The meditation that occurred after Hello, Little Protector (Part 1).
I close my eyes and I can see the red emitting from the abyss. A small red dot growing bigger as it pulses and consumes the darkness. I am in my root chakra and it feels very unfamiliar. I haven’t spent any time here for a very long time.
There I stand as a small child, both shy and confident. Within myself are twin wholes, navigating the world together in true Gemini form, always both at the same time. There doesn’t seem to be a separation between the two, more so that they simultaneously exist. I enter a room of new people with both shyness and confidence in tow. I tackle problems with both shyness and confidence by my side. These two parts are intertwined. They are both petite and tan with long blonde wavy hair, wearing identical swimsuits and always arm in arm.
I am around age seven, running around on the playground and diligently doing school work in the classroom. I can consciously feel “meanness” coming at me from the other children. I feel like crying because of “mean” actions or “mean” words, but somewhere in my core I hear a voice, “Don’t be a cry baby. It is unsafe to be this vulnerable.”
I cry. I do not cry. I shut the “mean people” down with words and even physical contact. The “mean people” runaway and never speak to me again. I won the battle because my confident twin stepped into its power to protect my shy twin, but it has no tools for how to manage that power in a healthy way. It leans hard into that power because with each victory, less and less people are “mean” to me. There is no resolution or apologies made after a conflict because no adults are present there to witness, meditate, remedy, etc. My confident (and oh so tiny twin) gains power and grows stronger, winning the war against bullies. She feels HUGE. She is my little protector. She is Rocky, the fighter of injustice who, quite literally, punches a boy in the nose and breaks it after being picked on and words could not stop the insults.
Fast forward through time and she recruits a gang of additional protectors into her posy, including my teenage protector with short cropped black hair/red stripes, and all black attire, and my early adult protector, a ferociously handsome man with rippling muscles and a towering presence. All three are wicked smart, quick tongues dripping with sarcasm and venom that can lash out an incredible amount of emotional pain and, of course, can also physically fight like hellcats.
My little protector takes a back seat to these other two parts who show up more frequently when there’s a crisis and she becomes merely a distant shadow while the other two feel tangible and closely present.
I reenter blackness and watch the sun rise, showcasing a vast and sublime horizon with a silhouetted single tree.
I can see that distant shadow sneaking towards me slowly and cautiously, coming into view. I can see her golden hair and her knobby knees, awkward in her gait, but fully confident in herself. There’s Rocky.
“Hi, little protector.”
She stays silent. Sizing me up with eyes that narrow with suspicion.
“I saw you yesterday when my husband made that joke.”
She digs her little toes into the ground and huffs a bit before looking straight at me and telling me, “No you didn’t.”
I pause. Looking at her bright green eyes and long eye lashes. She’s beautiful and disproportioned and her frown is actually a little intimidating.
“He made a joke that hurt my feelings, but you immediately jumped in to save me. You’re so brave.”
She stares into me, hard, evaluating whether or not I’m poking fun at her.
“I am very brave. I’m not little. I am big.”
“Yes, yes you are. I can see how confident you are.”
“Yep. I am.”
“Why did you jump in and save me?”
“Because someone was trying to hurt you and if I don’t protect you then you just cry.”
“I see. What’s wrong with crying?”
“You’d be a cry baby and all the kids would just bully you. Duuuh…”
“That makes sense. Do you know that I am 40 years old and I feel better when I cry?”
“No you’re not, stupid, you’re my age.”
“You’re protecting someone your age?”
“Yes, duh. I am always the bad guy because she can’t stand up for herself.”
I notice the switch of words from “you” to “her”. Who is she?
“What does she look like?”
She brightens, “Just like me.”
“Where is she?”
“Over there,” as she points behind her and far into the distance, “…hiding.”
“Can I meet her?”
The look of seriousness crosses her face as she scowls and narrows her eyes, but lifts a single eye brow to suggest curiosity. With a silence between us, hanging heavy, she shrugs and says, “Sure.”
Turning away from me she yells in the loudest child-like voice: “Raquel!”
I am startled by the use of my birth name.
From behind a tree, I see a face emerge, identical to this little protector in front of me. Raquel stays put as Rocky yells her name again. Raquel slowly takes small steps towards us, eyes diverted, hands clasped nervously in front of her, and as she sways gently side to side, she takes her position next to Rocky. They are exactly the same as they were when they were younger, except now I can see so many subtle differences.
Rocky is standing taller, a firm set of intent through her eyes, boring into me without a blink. Her hair is pulled back and down with a thick head band. She isn’t wearing a swimsuit, but instead has a pair of stretchy pink shorts on and an oversized floral crewneck t-shirt that hangs low. Her shoes are white flip flops. Her wrist is adorned with a blue Shark watch. Her teeth are big in the front and gapped on the sides.
Raquel’s shoulders are rounded, looking down at the ground and blinking rapidly between little glances at me. She’s wearing the original swimsuit, now bright pink, with her hair down, a little wet like it has been drying in the sun. I can see her little belly rising and lowering in pace with her slow breathing. She has a scrunchie on her wrist and bare feet. Her little legs are goose pimpled and she looks cold, but her face is sun-kissed and cheery, even with her head down. Her smile is crooked with a big single-sided dimple.
“Hi, Raquel.”
I receive no answer from Raquel and Rocky doesn’t stop staring at me.
“I felt shy yesterday when I told my husband about what makes me feel loved. I also felt scared and sad when he made a joke. It made me think he didn’t care and that he doesn’t miss me when I’m not around.”
Under her eye lids, I caught a glimpse of her eyes, peeking up at me as the dimple in her cheek got deeper when her lips pulled harder to the side, not in a smile, but in thoughtfulness. Her eyes were the same vibrant green as Rocky’s eyes. They were shining.
“Rocky was there to protect you so that you didn’t have to be alone with those emotions and you could go hide far away instead. She’s really good at that, huh?”
I receive a nod from Raquel.
“Do you like hiding?”
I watch her head move left to right quickly with a jolt.
“Yeah, hiding isn’t as fun as playing, huh?”
She nods again.
“But hiding is more fun than crying?”
She nods again, slower and I see a sigh move through her body.
“Do you know that I cry? Pretty often actually. It doesn’t feel good in the moment, it makes me uncomfortable, but afterwards, I feel so much relief. I feel lighter.”
She glances up and holds my gaze for the first time.
“It’s okay to cry. It’s how we express sadness and fear and all kinds of other emotions. Crying isn’t bad.”
Raquel keeps looking at me, but says nothing. Rocky is, and has been the whole time, staring at me, but stays quiet.
I wait patiently before Raquel begins to sob quietly. I open my arms and envelop her in a tight hug.
I can see Rocky’s discomfort. I am unfazed when she lunges towards me to kick me. I am unfazed when she bits the arm wrapped around Raquel. I am unfazed when she snorts and crosses her arms over her chest.
I open the arm that she had bit to make room for her in our hug. She rushes in, arms still crossed, and I hold her alongside Raquel. I can feel Rocky’s rigid body resist and soften in succession amid the pulsing of Raquel’s body that mirrors her gentle and rhythmic crying. I can feel tears drop onto my arm’s wound and I allow Rocky to cry without verbal acknowledgement.
They are both crying.
“It’s okay, you two. I’ll protect you both. We can be strong and powerful while also being sad and scared together. All these things can exist simultaneously.”
After what seems shorter than I intended, they both pull away, wiping snot from their noses and rubbing their red tinted eyes. They look at one another and both crack smiles. I see the identical teeth, big in the center and gapped on the sides.
Rocky gently pulls on Raquel’s hair and they both giggle. Without hesitation, Rocky grabs Raquel’s hand and they run into the field before us, dancing among the trees and flowers and I watch the soft wind join their celebration. They begin to play hide and seek as the summer sun sets to a pale yellow. I am seated, watching them run with an innocent carefree joy that makes me sigh and start to cry.
When I come out of my meditation, I feel fulfillment and love for my littlest selves.
Thank you, Rocky, for being Raquel’s bestest and biggest protector for so long. I know that even when her other protectors showed up, you were always there with her, making sure that she was safe. Thank you for making her feel less alone and for shielding her from the hurtful words and actions of others. You don’t have to hold onto this burden of always being the bad guy anymore. You can spend your time playing with her instead. Return to being two twin wholes that are forever connected as I’ll make sure she’s safe, and I’ll make sure you’re safe, too. Go, have fun.
