Sacred sexuality is something that is often misunderstood and even doubted as something that could be possible. This is my attempt at giving a brief introduction.
This segment of Points of Light is about gratitude. I get pretty passionate about this subject, and I’d like to share with you why…
― Masaru Emoto,
Here’s a link about Dr. Emoto’s work with water crystals that I mention in the video: http://www.masaru-emoto.net/…/emoto.html
And here’s some more ideas I’ve collected on one of my Pinterest boards. I particularly like the list of journal prompts!
As many of you know, I am in a transition period in my life, a bridge so to speak. This has been an incredibly healing and powerful weekend. I need to write about it to help me continue processing what I have experienced. I’m sharing my reflections here in the hope it will help someone as they are transitioning through their own bridges.
The weekend of healing and insight began Friday evening at a Moksha Magick gathering. It was the first time I had seen my former fiancé since he moved out at the end of May. I knew that seeing him might be hard, but it was both easier and harder than I had expected. It was easier in that it wasn’t as awkward as I thought it might be. We were able to come together in Moksha and let it be exactly what it needed to be. It was harder because by the time I got home, I was much more raw and emotional than I had anticipated.
There was so much that was left unsaid. I played games on Facebook for hours trying to get myself to wind down. As I was trying to convince myself that I really needed to go to bed, I came across a post from one of my Reiki students with a suggestion for a simple new moon ritual of releasing. It was perfect. I combined it with the intention from the Moksha Magick ritual for emotional strength. I asked the Goddess to give me the emotional strength to release my longing for the relationship that now belongs in the past.
Cool, I thought. I’m being given the emotional strength we raised energy for already. Well, yes and no. Writing “longing for the relationship” on a broken piece of pottery and burying it did give me a sense of action and peace. But the next day, I found that I was continuing to replay the evening and then add imaginary conversations in my head.
At a private healing circle that day, the thought of the broken relationship brought up tears that I thought had already cried themselves out. The tears and the support I received were healing. I acknowledged that I still needed to spend time with what I was feeling and why I was feeling it.
The weekend culminated Sunday morning, sharing Conscious Movement with members of a tribe who made me feel right at home. This was only the second time I had danced and moved with this fabulous group. Some of them I had met briefly before, and some of them I shared space with for the first time.
I surprised myself this morning by being on time and the first one there. When I walked in the door, the comforting smell of sage greeted me, followed by warm, enthusiastic hugs from the organizers. As I warmed up with the music, it felt so good to be in a supportive, accepting dance space with the beautiful souls coming through the door.
The theme of today’s session was Bridges. The fabulous Kathy Oravec, facilitating through music and movement, helped us to find and express the bridges in our lives.
Not long after the opening circle, I found myself in a situation I rarely encounter: I felt lost on the dance floor. I wandered aimlessly, without feeling the music in my body. I kept coming back to a blanket that had a pile of small scarves and some toys that were there for us to move with if we felt like it.
It popped into my head to create a bridge with the scarves. I laid some scarves out end to end, thinking that the bridge I was creating was a bridge into the next chapter of my life. This was a bridge to a life where I feel comfortable and confident on my own. I went back to the blanket and found a little car, then sprawled next to the scarves. The car drove part way up the scarf bridge in time with the music and then turned back towards the beginning. I moved the car back and forth, making progress little by little, until it jumped the track and took a completely different bridge into my new life.
I felt accomplished and proud of myself, but sad too. I missed AumJah. I thought about how much he would enjoy this gathering and how fun it would be to share it with him. There were these huge floor to ceiling windows encasing the room in a semi-circle. I thought about how much he would like those too. I drifted to one and looked out at some trees. They seemed to be inviting me to join them. So I went and gave one a big hug, finding comfort in its solidness and peace. I cried and gave them my sadness, my longing, my pain. I sat with them until I felt that I had expressed all I needed to in that space.
Then I went back inside and flung myself into the dance. I smiled, I played, I connected with people, and instead of feeling lost and wondering what to do, I lost myself in the dance, knowing exactly what to do.
I found more bridges. The first was the dance itself: it created a bridge to my feelings, the sadness, the joy, the connection. The second bridge was the tribe gathered to share connection through the music and movement. They made me feel so welcome and part of them, embracing me physically and energetically.
I will surely spend more time with all of these bridges…and count myself blessed.
Wow, I just looked at the date of my last blog post. I have been through a whole hell of a lot since I last made an attempt at blogging in September. Now that I am ready to share my story of the difficult time I have had in the intervening months, I thought that my first blog post back in the saddle would be about the pain that comes with truly healing deep wounds and what helped me to come back to the world.
As John Lennon told us, “life is what happens while we’re busy making other plans.” At the end of February, as I was preparing to dig in and really start putting myself back out there with a series of blog posts, life happened…Well, death happened too. The story I am about to share with you is both tragic and life-affirming. The fact that I am sharing it here, in the vast internet universe, is very much related to the pain and healing I have experienced in the last few months, but that’s another story…
On Thursday February 19th, I received a text from my sister Ashley Rae. She was 41 weeks pregnant. She and her mid-wife had agreed to induce labor by breaking her water the next day. This was so very exciting! We had been waiting these long weeks and months to meet Galen and welcome him into the world. The problem was that her roommate, who had agreed to attend to her six-year-old son, Aiden, during the home birth, had just gotten a job and was starting that same day. With excitement, I volunteered to make the two hour drive to Orlando to be with Aiden and Ashley in their home during the labor and birth. I decided to bring my 14 year-old daughter Elizabeth with me. Looking back, I am so grateful that I made those decisions to go to Orlando and bring Elizabeth with me.
We arrived on Friday afternoon about an hour after the amniotic sac had been ruptured. Ashley was 7 cm dilated and in full labor. She rushed out of the bedroom when we walked in and gave me a big hug and my birthday present. (She hadn’t been able to come celebrate my birthday with me at the beginning of the month because she was so close to her due date. She loves to give gifts, and she had made me a beautiful tarot reading covering the next year). Elizabeth stayed with Aiden in the living room, and Ashley invited me to hang out in the bedroom with her doula, her midwife Kelli, and the midwife’s assistant. We talked and laughed and hurried around making last minute preparations for the birth.
As the contractions became more intense, Kelli decided to check the progress of Ashley’s cervix and the heart rate of the baby. Ashley’s cervix had opened to 9 cm – only one more to go! But wait…no heartbeat. At first we thought, maybe it’s the equipment, or the baby’s position, or the placenta in the way…or something…it had to be something.
She had just had a full prenatal exam two days before, and everything looked great! There had been no complications with her pregnancy whatsoever. The decision was made to transfer her to the hospital. Elizabeth would stay at the house with Aiden. The midwife called the ambulance. It arrived quickly, and I was able to ride along. It was hard to leave Ashley alone in the back with the EMTs at such a stressful, and scary time for her, but we knew they needed to be able to do their jobs.
When we got to the hospital, the nurse who checked Ashley’s cervix said that it was back down to 6 cm. Worse yet, they still couldn’t find a heartbeat. They sent for somebody from the ultrasound department. Still nothing. Of course the technician wasn’t allowed to tell us anything. It was almost an hour from the time we arrived at the hospital to the time the doctor came in and delivered the sad news: Galen was gone. By that time Ashley’s midwife and doula had arrived as well. We surrounded her with our arms and our hearts.
Only a few minutes later, after Ashley had contacted her dad and her (other) sister, she posted this message to Facebook: “Galen is stillborn.” The outpouring of love and support was immediate. Among the first responses, one of Ashley’s friends posted a link to “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep,” which is an organization that provides free professional photography for parents who have lost a baby. One of us asked Ashley if she wanted them to come. She said yes without a moment’s hesitation. I’m not sure what I would have said in the same situation, but I’m so glad she invited them in. Ashley’s sister Crystal arrived, then the two photographer/doulas from Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. Someone who knew Ashley (although not well) asked if she could join us. Michelle is not only a very talented and experienced birth doula and hypnotherapist, she also trained as a bereavement doula recently after experiencing a similar loss in her own family. With her joining our number, we had at times up to seven women present supporting Ashley as she labored to give birth to Galen.
It was a long, long night. During those interminable, exhausting hours, sometimes Ashley gave her full concentration to the rushes (as she prefers to refer to contractions), focusing on bringing Galen into the world. At times she despaired and would momentarily give in to the overwhelming pain and unfairness of the situation. At times she distracted herself and the rest of us with her musings and her irrepressible humor. But the times I will cherish the most are the times we actively shared our sorrow.
This picture was taken near the end of Ashley’s labor. It was a moment of grief and pain, but also of love and community. I had been sitting at Ashley’s feet, when a thought struck me suddenly and hard. I jumped up. Galen had come to this world to experience love and acceptance. “We need to tell Galen how much we love him,” I insisted. Even though there was no longer life in his body, his spirit was still with us. I knew in my gut, that we needed to express our love for him aloud to help ease his passing. Everyone gathered around and Michelle and I took turns expressing our love and appreciation for Galen.
It was important for me not to hold back my tears of loss for and pain for Ashley and for Galen. It was important that she not cry alone. It was important that we shared our tears. As I stood there in that moment, it struck me that this was the true definition of community…this connection and expression that so many of us long for and seek in the mundane world was fully present as we shared our grief. We were in communion, a holy communion with each other in that moment.
I began to sing a song that Ashley and I have sung together many times, a traditional Native American tune: The River is Flowing.
The River, She is flowing,
Growing and flowing.
The River, She is flowing down to the sea.
Mother carry me,
Your child I will always be.
Mother carry me down to the sea.
I repeated the chant over and over, and the others joined in. Once again, I felt incredibly blessed.
Shortly after that, Ashley made the difficult decision to have a c-section in order to deliver Galen. The hospital staff had been extremely kind and patient and did their best to honor Ashley’s wishes. They didn’t push the interventions that they probably saw as necessary, but let her come to her decisions in her own time.
Just like with Aiden’s birth, Ashley had been joyously preparing for a natural home birth. Even after she was told that Galen had already died in her womb, her initial intention was to give birth without any drugs or other interventions. As time dragged on and the pain increased without the compensation of new life at the end, Ashley elected to have an epidural for pain and later Pitocin to increase the contractions. By late in the morning on Saturday, the epidural was not able to block much of the pain Ashley was experiencing. She had gone through transition four times as the contractions strengthened and weakened over the course of time. She had gotten maybe three hours sleep through the course of the night. She was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. It was time for Galen to be born.
Ashley asked Crystal to be the one person allowed to stay with her during the cesarean. After they had left the room, Kelli opened her arms to me and took a step in my direction. I ran to her and fell into her arms. I sobbed, letting my body release the tension and anxiety that I had been holding for all that time. I could share the heartache with Ashley, but it hadn’t been time to share the worry, the ache of my mind for what she had been through. But I had others to share it with me. Kelli and Michelle held me and sang to me and soothed me. They shared their tears and grief with me, just as I had communed with Ashley.
At 12:50 pm on February 21st 2015, Galen’s body was brought into the world. He weighed 13 lbs, 12 oz. It appeared from his condition that he had passed away some time ago, probably not long after Ashley’s prenatal visit on the 18th. While Ashley was still in surgery, Erin and Mackenzie from Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep were able to photograph Galen with a reverence and beauty that I am still in awe of.
Shortly after Ashley was brought back to the room, she was able to hold Galen and spend time with him. She talked to him and kissed him and loved on him. Again I was struck by the beauty and love that was shared in that space.
Later that evening, after Aiden had met his baby brother, I asked if I could hold Galen. “Of course,” Ashley answered. He was so heavy, twice as big as some newborns. He had a little button nose and precious ears, beautiful fingers and toes. I was saddened that we would never see him grow up, never hear his voice, never get to know his unique personality. At the same time, I was so grateful for the time I had with him, grateful for this continued time of communion and oneness. I sang to him…
On the day that Galen was born,
On the day that Galen was born,
On the day that Galen was born
The angels sang and they blew on their horns,
And they danced, they danced,
They smiled and raised up their hands!
On the day, on the day that Galen was born!
I do believe the angels danced that day, for Galen and for all of us. The Universe rejoiced that Galen had no need to suffer in this lifetime. All of Creation rejoiced that the rest of us, in our suffering, became closer to understanding the Oneness that we are all a part of and an expression of. Galen’s life and death indeed brought us into a holy communion with one another and all of Creation.