"Losing my
mind...finding my soul"
Originally published
on April 22, 2014
I'm
really struggling with writing a synopsis for SEVEN GENERATIONS this morning. The old one I used
to pitch to literary agencies feels stale and stiff. The one I edited
last week doesn't work either as it's too wordy and watery. I can't find
the right tenor, the most accurate way to describe a novel that reflects the
experience of a woman who struggles with ongoing feelings of abandonment and
rejection. Who pushes through to the other side, albeit while making
choices some might think are simultaneously reckless and
circumspect.
How
to find the right words that describe one ordinary woman's journey into
consciousness? Ten years after writing this one, you'd think I'd have a
grip on it by now.
But
no.
For
years my dear friend and former teaching colleague, Sandy, traveled every
summer and I was fortunate enough to take care of her house and yard, which
included a gorgeous circular in-ground pool. For over a decade I spent
many wonderfully warm afternoons hanging out in her backyard. Floating in
the pool. Editing early drafts of my novels. Wondering when my life
would start moving forward.
Still
for much of that time, I felt like I was losing my mind...literally. I
was in flux between teaching first grade and building a yoga business. In
the middle of ending therapy and beginning a different way of being. To
help the process along, every summer I'd schedule a series of Rolfing
sessions. During the time between putting the dates in my planner and
actually getting on the table to endure the often painful work of
transformation, my psyche always seemed to split wide open and out poured a
host of unresolved personal issues. Cyclic relationships ramped up their
drama. I became bored with everything I knew to be true...everything that
was slowly, but surely revealing itself to be an illusion.
One
year I turned into a complete klutz and within a few weeks' time, fell down the
stairs, fell out of a headstand onto a concrete floor, then fell off a ladder
while cleaning the gutters. I didn't sleep or eat well for long periods
of time. Teaching yoga was often an agony and I couldn't clearly
articulate what I was enduring. At one point out of frustration, I said
to my Rolfer, "It's like my body feels as if someone rearranged all the furniture
in my living room without telling me and I'm walking around in the dark in an
unfamiliar space."
Tony
nodded. "That sounds about right. When you're ready to get rolfed
all your stuff comes up from the center of your spine so I can see it."
"Well,
if you can see it, let's go to work," I replied. "Turn the
lights on, will you?"
With
every Rolfing session, I got better. Became more integrated.
Was able to move forward with calm assurance that the inner psychic housecleaning
was worth what had been hiding beneath the layers of dust and dirt.\Every
summer I returned to the Rolfing table while Sandy traveled. Every season
a horrible blessing of going through a dark tunnel, not knowing if I would make
it to the other side. But I always did. And by the time Sandy
returned, we had lots to share about our journeys-- both inner and outer.
Once,
after a trip to Custar State Park, Sandy returned wearing a light blue t-shirt
with the quote, "Lose your mind" on the front and "Find your
soul" on the back. I loved that shirt...coveted it really. It
represented for me the jewel in mining the dark recesses of my consciousness in
order to be able to hear my soul speaking more clearly.
Sandy
wore her shirt through the last years of her teaching career.
Through the first few years of retirement. Through her plans
for moving to Alberta, Canada. Through the sifting and sorting of her own
life as she prepared and packed and practiced patience while waiting for her
landed immigrant status to arrive.
As
moving day approached, I was helping with the final house cleaning as new
owners had just closed on their escrow. Sandy stuffed a box into the
trunk of her car, then turned to me. "I have something for
you." And with that she came back into the house and went into her
bedroom. Moments later she returned with the "Lose your mind"
t-shirt. "I've made it to my journey now," she smiled.
"It's time you had this."
Gratefully
accepting it, I wore the shirt during my own transition from Ohio to
California. I wore it as a work shirt when I hoed and weeded in the
gardens at Esalen. And when I returned, I wore it to practice yoga and
when I sat in silent meditation. Every autumn, I carefully fold the shirt
and store it with my spring and summer clothes.
Just
last Sunday night, after a warm Easter evening, I went downstairs to pull it
from the bin to wear as a night shirt. For weeks, I have been feeling my
inner moorings shift and the untethering of my mind. Of course, Rolfing
sessions have been scheduled for July so this is no surprise. Still, I'm
familiar with the process of losing my mind. Now, at this point in my
life, finding my soul is something more important to focus on as I once again
navigate the murky waters of unseen changes.
Sandy
and I had lost touch over the winter as she's been traveling to places here,
there, and everywhere and I've been writing and teaching and learning lessons
of my own. Still I felt Sandy's presence in that shirt, in the awareness
of how much she's been a witness to the past twenty-six odd years. Who
has given me the space and support to continue this journey of discovery.
So I wasn't surprised at all to find a long and lovely email from her in
my inbox on Monday morning. Perhaps tangible things can more readily send
a prayer of love to a friend...a thought of Thanksgiving for someone who's
touched my life in ways I cannot clearly articulate.
So
maybe that's why I'm having trouble writing Grace's synopsis today. I'm
not quite sure how creating her story has changed my life or allowed me to
integrate more fully the healing of past hurts. The opening of new doors
of awareness.
Maybe
I need to not think about it for a while...to lose my pre-conceived ideas of
what it's supposed to be. How it's supposed to sound. What it's
supposed to convey. To let my mind relax and simply enjoy this lovely
spring day.
To
trust that when I'm meant to find the words, my soul will wisely whisper them
into my ear.
 |
| With Sandy on a trip to Yellowstone National Park, 2010 |
