Letting Go

I believe there comes a time in any path of healing, where we are asked to let go. A time when we have flipped over all of the possible stones of 'why' and 'how could they' and 'what did that mean' and there is nothing that remains except a conscious choice to let go.

I re-learned that lesson recently with 8. My heart simply could not fathom what she had thought or felt that had brought her to a place where she responded to me as she did. And when I closed the door on communication with her, I realized that I would never have the answers that we always ask in the process of trying to understand, forgive, and heal. Even if I hadn't closed the door, I still most likely would have never had those answers, for it would have been difficult to trust that her words were truthful. And so, I learned how to sit in the unknown, and ultimately, have been learning how to let go. Considering the social conditioning that runs contrary to this, it has been challenging.

But the process of letting go that has prompted this blog, actually has very little to do with 8. This morning I went to see the local Marakame for a Huichol Medicine session. For the past few weeks I have been feeling as though I am straddling a ravine, frozen and incapable of safely moving to the other side. When I had a PSM treatment earlier this week, I realized how disconnected I had been, how deeply I had receded from the world around me - my practitioner had in fact mentioned that when she saw me in the waiting room and looked into my eyes, it seemed as though I was very far away. I was.

After my treatment with her, I felt better and I also became aware of something residing in my lower abdomen that needed to be released. For lack of better words, I described it to her as 'the root of much misery that no longer belonged' and asked how I could enable it to be removed. Her suggestion was to see the local Marakame. And so I did.

Since my treatment with him this morning, several things have risen to the surface - doors or openings, as the Marakame would say. And in response to his encouragement, I have allowed myself to become aware of those openings and to take action to move into them.

This evening, I found myself writing in my journal about the sexual abuse . . . and for the first time, I was able to see it as an opportunity for a mindful rebirth of my womanhood. Rather than lament what was taken from me, I asked myself what the possibilities would be if I viewed it as an opportunity to delve into the true nature of being a woman. So many of us are disconnected from the process of entering into womanhood as it is, even without significant trauma to disrupt that connection even further. And here, in this moment, I could see the gift of being able to mindfully connect to this experience. I could see the freedom and the beauty.

Not long after I had written this, my mind traveled back to an earlier journal entry - one that I had written this past week in response to an experiment that I'm taking part in - A Year to Live. In my 'bucket list' of things that I would do, if I only had a year to live, I had written that  would forgive the men who had marred my experience of becoming a woman. Namely my theater instructor. It occurred to me, as I remembered this, that perhaps this was an opportunity to forgive him, and in doing so, to release both of us from this darkness.

Just a few minutes ago, I wrote him a letter. Short. Poignant. Anonymous. Acknowledging the impact of his actions on my life. Extending forgiveness. Sharing compassion and empathy for the agony he must have experienced in his own life that brought him to that space. Wishing him peace, Wishing him love. Wishing him healing.

And doing so from a very clear and open-hearted space. By acknowledging his human-ness, I make space for my own. By focusing on the gifts that are present in this experience, I am honoring my own wholeness. And in doing this, I am learning what it is to be a woman. And what it is to let go.