We reached the entrance. Why were these women just standing there with scared eyes cast toward the ground? Why were they waiting for a man to come and open the door? Their skin was pale and blemished. No signs of thriving or empowerment. They all looked the same…and a bit like me.
“Are you serious? Basic bitches,” I muttered as I pushed them aside and strode to the doors. One appeared easy enough to enter, perhaps a cellar door. The other, a tiiny keyhole shaped opening, looked impossible. I almost reached for the cellar door before I saw some of my spirit allies on the other side. Ha! I got this.
I knelt down at the opening, which didn’t appear to be wide enough for my shoulders. The narrow walls hugged my body and allowed my bones to spread them wider. I relaxed my entire body, then squirmed my way forward, just a few inches at a time. My allies watched with wide eyes and bated breath. As I made my way through what I quickly became aware of as a birth canal, I realized I was dying. I was truly entering a new world, a new life, a new dimension. I was birthing myself, letting go of everything I’d known before. With this realization, I slowed down. I allowed myself to feel the process, the death, the transformation. I let out a deep moan of mourning and pleasure.
It wasn’t until mid-chant that I remembered this dream. Shekhinah, el shaddai, imah illa’ah tzimtzemai WHOA.
My being is raw from this birth. My body is so new. I want to protect her. And yet there are those people whose Presence dissolves the walls in sweet caress. They know. They see. Their eyes are open in this moment as they swim beside me in these waters. The ones who feel the world a little ‘too deeply’, who refuse to silence and numb, to pretend.
Daniel is one of these people for me. We met at the Kohenet Passover Seder on Saturday and when he asked to stay with me for a few days, I felt the yes. When I shared my dream with him that morning, I had no idea what could be unleashed with his witness.
Him, on rattle and drum/guitar. Me, didgeridoo and drum. Tear-stained face. Deep sigh. Thanking creator for the release of this grief that spans everything from my own lost loves to the way we are violating our mother Gaia. Casual pre-work ritual…
Meanwhile, Anna woke on her first day back in the Bay after time in Costa Rica studying yoga and permaculture. The moment I saw her with her drum on her back at the New Year’s Eve party, hours after I left Mount Shasta in a whirlwind of chaos and surrender, I knew she was my sister. We felt some sadness that she was about to leave for what we thought would be many months…and now, after only three, she was back! And as Spirit would have it, she and Daniel had been together in Costa Rica and are now planning a Permaculture Action Tour together.
The next morning was Spirit Team Rivka Restoration Round 2. I am forever grateful for their presence and encouragement as I released pain that is not mine to carry. As Daniel said while checking in later, “We don’t make it until we all make it.”
I’m holding both renewed appreciation for the power of love, and a release of the idea of “making it” as getting somewhere else, somewhere higher. In my dream of this dream, there’s nowhere to go but more fully here. Sometimes I sit in the center of awareness of the Tao. Sometimes it feels like a mirage just out of sight. One cannot be better than the other. There is no hierarchy of moments, only an endless loop where darkness leads to light and light leads to darkness and we travel as the One.
These words wrap up my week before a much-needed Shabbat on unpaved earth. The Magic Mobile awaits to take me and brother Mitchel to camp along madre mar on the land that now lives and loves with the host of the New Years party where I met both Mitchel and Anna (insha’allah). Such strings of circumstance are far beyond my orchestration.
Soon the portal of Pesach, this time of liberation and rebirth, will close…or will it? As I spiral deeper with seeds planted three months ago, five months ago, and surely long before we can yet remember, I let go of the striving toward that freedom. I witnessed a certain desperation in the preparation toward Passover. PLEASE, FREEDOM, PLEASE. Yearning for some “lost” peace and awareness as if this is THE chance. Afraid of getting left behind as my tribe journeys to the Promised Land.
Somehow truth is born from illusion. I relax my body. I move forward. I moan and release.
I am forever being born
to the edge
as the edge.