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January 19, 2007

cancer rising

I feel very strongly that I am under the influence of things or questions which were left incomplete and unanswered by parents and distant ancestors. It often seems as if there were an impersonal karma within a family, which is passed on from parents to children. It has always seemed to me that I had to answer questions which fate had posed my forefathers, and which had not yet been answered, or as if I had to complete, or perhaps continue, things which previous ages had left unfinished.
-C.G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections

I wouldn't ever say it to my mom---except for that I did. That her, I, and my sister: we all are cancer rising. The Goddess thread. She pretended not to hear me and I resisted the urge to try to explain.

The body is
the densest part, energy consensed into form. Or, in another way, a halogram. A pattern of interference. Like frequencies banning together, bodies
also stick together. Groups in-carnating, staying near, life-time to life time. A larger condensation; basically the same each time. "do I know you?"

Oil to water
droped in. A free-radical: they all know each other, but they don't know me, but I have the hole that will send them off balance. "Every few generations, an artist is born..." To heal the wounds we've forgotten. Apparently,
chaos brings healing.

It has been hard for me to relate to my blood. Maybe that's why connecting to spiritual archetypes rather than ancestry has made more sense to me. Also, I do not really know my blood: my mom was adopted and also my grandfather on my father's. Plus, nobody talks.
Maybe its hard for everyone to see their archetypal connection to their immediate family. Just because of proximity. We can't get perspective, everything looks foreign from so close.
And I don't have a line that goes far enough back for me to get beyond the personal pressed against my eye ball.

the archetype of: free radical

In other [archetypes], theres sort of ambivalence in relation to blood: artist, teacher, poet
really, in blood, these are all there but on the surface, they manifest so differently; it feels almost blasphemous for me to relate, even though deeply, I know they're the same.

But healer, specifically wounded-healer.... I could maybe explain that they held the wounds and I would find the healing
but I hurt them too,
though, apparently, chaos brings healing.

oh-yeah-and archetype: martyr
the visceral memory of having died for these wounds so many times before, and the all-too-wilingness
to do so again. To die for them rather than...

"But you're forgetting one---one that's really in your blood"

Archetype: orphan--that's the archetype of adoption.
It fits with the dizziness, the displacement. the feeling of foreigness: in my body, in the world. The incongruence between what I was shown and what I knew. My grandma died of alzheimers but she was not by blood. The lostness surrounded me but was not me.

A theory of attachment says that a baby actually knows their biological mother by smell. But my mother was actually my mother. But hers wasnt: could I sense in her an inability to attach that she could not feel herself?
maybe.

Story: So, my grandma--my mom's adoptive mom--was dying of alzheimers. Around the time my sister was born, my dad hired someone to look for my mom's birth-mom and she was found: around the time my grandma died and a while before my dad died. My dad died when his dad was getting open heart surgery.
The result was that my sister has basically an entierly different family than I did.
My dad's mom and dad---still there---but my dad's death sent them into chaos. I had to step back. but, in the time since, they have started to heal, and my mom--getting some distance and seeing them better, got back some power, enough to see she had to step back, too. Enough to
defend
my sister--in big ways and small--in ways she couldn't defend me.

my mom's shifts, the disruption of abuse from my dad's side of the family, the protection of my sister, me...I'm alive. All coincide with the restoring of the matriarchal blood line.

different forms, but we are on the same path:
cancer rising


So, there is maybe more in blood than I thought, and maybe the rest is in the blood too: my imagery, the things I connect to and know (and the styles I seem to sing in): native american (I figured that was because of where I live) and celtic, especially more since I let my hair be blond (white blood has a lot of shame). Maybe these bloods are really in me. I don't know.
and I notice how Im kind-of afraid to ask.

When I think that, I remeber a prediction I was given that some things would get clear to me in the next couple years. "does my mom know?" "no, but it will make sense to her. you will be looking in a closet and something will make you remeber"

its kind-of sad. The holes in my memory, the unexplained fears when I was little. The physical symptoms seemingly without source, but clearly the soul speaking. I think that, unconsciously, I blamed my dad. just because he was the man I knew. I think, unconsciously, he accepted the blame: having a clearly wounded child. I think that we both felt bad about it---wanting to be better for the other, but also felt like, "fuck you" for not being what I need. but, now that I'm starting to see it, even though it ended us in a place where neither could live with the other living (and then he died)...the original causes--I don't think it was his fault.

so, (clearly) I am at Pacifica right now. I have a sense that I am in the right place this quarter because the topic matter is everything that I feel I can't take--aging, developemental psych, domestic violence. I had to bail for part of the violence and abuse class. I wanted to be in there but I could not breathe. It was more important to go outside and lay on the ground and cry---not for myself.
for everyone,
for the lost blood of our mothers
for the way that our bodies have become foreign to us
for the way that we've lived in our minds---afraid of our hearts
I am grateful to feel.

and I feel that daunting choking and falling back of seeing a path raise before me in no certian terms
of knowing that
exactly what I can't deal with is the work Im to do------again,
not just for my self.

January 03, 2007

fire to water

her magic is her freedom:

When the man woke, he saw the tracks of Coyote past his house. Whenever you meet someone of something, the present is evident and there are only two directions to talk in : where did you come from and where are you going? The man decided to find out from where Coyote came and so followed the tracks backwards. They lead to a hole in the earth. dark and seemingly bottomless, there was what felt like a rope ladder and he went down it. He had come into the world of the Coyote people. Living in the womb of Earth, surrounded and held. It was warm and safe. The Coyote People where happy and kind and welcomed him. After a while, he knew that much time passed and that, though it was beautiful there, he needed to return to his home. He wanted to tell the people what he had seen. But when he went to find his way back, what he had thought was a rope ladder was really a spider web.

The Spider Woman weaves the threads that connect the physical world to the spirit world. Sometimes these threads seem delicate.

The man found Spider Woman and said: "I crawled your web without knowing what I was doing. I left my home and now I don't know if I can get back. I am heavy and maybe I have already stretched it too far"
the answer came back that if he believed in the strength of the web without a thought of doubt, he could travel the web safely.

The man had come to Spider Woman's web many times before and would come to it many times again. This time, he crossed it safely.

Andrew asked me if I was ready and I said, "yes".
He lead me out of the kiva, I took off my shoes and sat in the middle of the giant buffalo fur. He told me that The White Wolf Woman had come to the world for this time. She had come to doctor the women and also the men. White Wolf medicine is the woman's spirit. Women are stronger than men...it's supposed to be that way, but at some point, men got afraid---and women too--and egos started to lead. Now there are deposits in the women's bodies for what had been done to them. There are deposits in the bodies of women and men for the harm that has been done to women through this history and to the earth. When she came, she would touch me on the forehead and put me to sleep; I could not be present for this---the consious would only get in the way.

He layed me down and wrapped me in the hide. I felt his touch and I felt Hers. I remember what I remember and then I don't remember.
It took him a long time to wake me up.
He told me that my spirit had been very far away for sometime.
He told me that I didn't have to worry about that anymore. The White Wolf Woman was now with me and she would continue Her work with me and would be with me when I needed Her. And also be with me for others.

Hala helped me get more in my body in this realm. A delicate thread, a bird up too high.
She oriented me like you talk to someone who is tripping: this is a chair, this is the floor, look around you, look for the color yellow. I realized that I had been tripping. how much I am afraid of what I wont look at. feeling unworthy to see, to be, to breathe. She drew the rivers with the blade of her hand across her other hand open. She carved the groove of our patterns then diverted the river...deja vu. I have heard this before: I stayed.

in the sand, concentric rings of tobacco with an equal cross through the middle. 51 rock people with our intentions. Then encased in, for each, a wood person with what we were releasing. A few of us stayed around where the fire would be built and smoked cloves or tobacco and made tobacco ties. Tobacco holds the vibrations of our prayers, we would wear the strand around our necks then hang them above of heads in the lodge. 28 pockets: 7 directions multiplied by the four primary directions. The number of days to create the universe, the length of a cylcle: I prayed into each. Tied with slip knots so that the energy flows between. The red cloth is for blood: life.

I was so excited for the sweat, it was what I had held out for. I knew it was what I needed, but I didn't know how it would come. I didn't care. I watched the fire turn the rocks orange.
It was so tight. 45 people pressed together; there would be 51 hot rocks. The first round was beautiful, watching the rocks glitter when the medicine plants touched them. and the drum and the songs. the dome, the only space: above--a map of the sky. Some spirits joined us, but it stayed spacious.
The second round was the women's prayers. I think that most people were crying and sweating to where you don't know the difference. And it was, by this point, very very hot.
Once all of women had made their prayers, Andrew prayed intensely, calling out to the White Wolf Woman to heal the women. to heal the men. to stop the beating, stop the hurting. She came: gentle, but roaring.

Fire to water. Maybe before
I wouldn't have been able to feel this so deeply
I would have made myself stay to strengthen my body and my mind---and I would have missed my soul healing.
I was outside, layed across a rock moaning and screaming, dripping wet. Opening my eyes to the moon and the picture negative of the moon and its hallow--the eye I have seen before. She let part of me stay awake for this---I felt the surgery, I could even see it in a way. I felt something get taken out and the hollow, then the light filling in. But I still was moaning, soaking but still hot under the almost full moon. I felt the pain of thousands of years but with ecstacy. I was so glad to be feeling it moving. I could see Her. I would die with joy for this to be unburried.
Hala came to me and was touching me and talking to me. I have been held in this place by spirit before, but not by a human. I slid off the rock to lay in the dirt. Hala left and White Wolf Woman put me to sleep once more.
They called me to wake up and I still couldn't move. I felt the texture of Andrew's arm. They moved me back to the kiva.

As I slowly woke up, I stared at the moon. the White Wolf Woman talked to me gently but firm. I knew what She was asking through this gift. What I was being initiated to.

I went back into the sweat for the last round. We sang, then screamed, then the last round was for graditude.


fire to water.
I had gone through the fire that year, but there was more to burn. I think I went there knowing that and fell into tears as soon as I had space. At the beginning of 2006 setting the intention of fire---passion, drive, clarity. purification of: I was yet to learn of what and how much. We always think we have made it and that now we should rest easy.
I was dramatic at the time, but what was left to burn then flow away would give me a gift on many levels. Healing for a lot of this life time: relief from the stories of my personality and through that, initiation to the healing of thousands of years. It does not stay the same: there is movement. And something is starting to happen now. We are being asked to learn. We cannot hurt or hurt much more.

I have permission to see. I have permission to breathe. To be. I realize how, in the past, these things have felt like I am asking too much.
I accept the privlage of life with gratitude.
Thank you to everyone and everything through this fire.
we continue on

thank you White Wolf Woman.