Beauty In the Midst of the Fire

Hello Dear Ones! 

I seem to have a particular style in my writing.  You probably have already noticed.  It’s like this: I notice something that needs to be said, and it needs to be expressed through story-telling. This is followed by a line of questions, or inquiry, that I then offer to you.  Having been raised to be a good listener, and having taken on a line of work that reinforced the good listening skill, it often feels wildly outlandish of me to tell my own stories.  And.  I think that’s a part of why I write.  So I can tell them.  And so I can trust that these stories of mine have merit.  Have value.  Might even be an offering to the world. 

When I was a little girl, I delighted in my parents’ stories of their lives.  I cherished them. And I assumed I would never have good stories of my own to tell.  I assumed I would just tell everyone else’s stories.

About a year ago I stopped in my tracks and realized:  Holy mackerel, do I have stories! I sat and reflected over my 46 years of adventures, some of them so huge and so wild… and realized that I already have lived a fulfilled life.  I have already far surpassed the wildest dreams of the little girl who once believed she’d never do anything remarkable.  (and I am wrapping that sweet girl in such love, and taking her with me as I adventure forward, of course!).

Ok so here is my story for this week.  This one returned to me during a recent conversation with a friend, and I realized it might be useful to share.  It’s all about finding beauty and refuge in the midst of crisis.

It seems timely because I’ve been hearing just how many flavors of struggle people are experiencing right now.  It’s just so much to hold.  Oftentimes, too much to even bear.  So a story is called for.  Here we go:

In 2012 I took a week-long break from attending births as a midwife, and went on a Vision Quest with a shaman, out in the wild and gorgeous mountains of Ashland, Oregon.  A week on sacred land, led by an incredible woman and also a dear friend.  One day, we created and sat in a kind of sauna. Imagine a small canvas structure with a huge roaring fire inside.  We, maybe 12 of us, sat around this fire, wedged in like sardines.  Legs crossed, knees to the fire, backs to the canvas.  It was TIGHT. The fire was right under our noses.  From time to time, wood or water were added, so that the fire roared and steam hissed around us. Intense doesn’t begin to describe it. I was sitting opposite the opening (the doorway out).  The furthest from the exit.

I should say next that I am someone who can experience claustrophobia sometimes.  This quickly became one of those times and all I wanted was to get out of there.  I was completely focused on planning how to stand up and jump over the fire, just to get out.  The fire alarms were literally going off in my head.  I was so hot, so squeezed, not enough room, it was dark, I was in an altered state.  And we were talking about trauma and healing.  Well this just sent me way past my threshold. Every part of me was on fire and screaming:  I AM NOT OKAY. MY BODY IS NOT SAFE. I AM NOT SAFE.

And. This beautiful experience was serving up just what I needed. 

In total desperation I got onto my hands and knees.  No one else was doing this, but I had to.  Birthing women do this a lot, and somehow it seemed the right thing to do.  I was trying desperately to STAY, despite every part of me was screaming to get out. 

Once I had been on hands-and-knees for a while, my toes noticed that they could sneak out underneath the canvas into the cool air outside…  So I stuck my lower legs out.  Amazing. Suddenly, a part of me was not on fire.  A part of me was actually okay.  What a revelation. 

Because one part of me was okay, the beauty happened:  I noticed the soft, strong gentleness of my left arm, and that my chest, neck and head could lean against it for comfort. The sensation of this brought me home, back into my body.  In essence, my body suddenly became its own sanctuary. Everything changed in an instant.  The space between my four limbs, and between my belly and the floor… it all became a refuge that I created for myself., and that I could rest in.

As soon as I found this, and nested into this space of sanctuary, I was home.  I was safe because I had myself.  My own body, struggling as it was, created the exact safety I needed. The exact sanctuary I needed.  And I then fell a bit more in love with myself, for having done this. 

I don’t know how long we were in this sauna.  We all were so outside of space and time, so altered.  All I remember is the sweetness of having myself, the radical safety and comfort that made everything suddenly fine.  And to this day, I still have this sanctuary.  I have this same body, and she can serve up this same sanctuary at any time.  Whenever I need it.

Coming back to you now, I wonder:  Can this concept serve you in your life right now?  The more we return to our body and find even a tiny place that feels simply okay, neutral… the more we stand a chance to come home to ourselves in the hardest of times.  Our body is our vessel, our sanctuary.

Even when the fire alarms are going off IN your body, what part of you is safe, whole, healthy, free?

Do this now:  see if there is any part of your body that feels ok, or even comfortable right now. (even if it is just one pinkie toe, that is good enough). Can you stay there for a while, resting and focusing on that sensation?  And then can you find it possible to lean into your body a bit more? Is there a larger part that feels like it is anchoring you, or reminding you of love? Is there any part of you that can offer comfort, steadiness, safety, home?  Right now, check in and see.  Return home to your body, even if the fire alarms inside are screaming.  Find one part that is ok.  See where this leads you, see how your mind settles, see how the inner and outer experience in your life gets easier.

If you try it, and feel like telling me about it, I’d love to hear your experience!

In deep gratitude for everything in this sweet life,

Rebecca

* Disclaimer: This likely goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: Everything I write is for educational purposes only. Nothing I write or share can be deemed diagnostic or medical advice. Nothing I write or share can replace your own healthcare providers or your own internal wisdom. Period. Please seek tailored medical care and advice via your skilled healthcare team whenever you need it.