Cycling . . . In More Ways Than One . . .

For starters, I decided this morning that my soulmate was going to have to have a code name for my entries here. Obviously she will be mentioned here, more often than others . . . and it seems silly to refer to her as my 'soul mate' all of the time. And pretentious as well. So, from this point forward, she will be referenced as 8. Very House-ish of me, yes?

I have my reasons for referring to her as 8, of which I will mostly keep private. The only one I will reveal, is that, at this moment, there are 7 women who I have asked to witness this process through the blog. And in time, as things with 8 and I become more defined, and when it feels right, I will share this with her and she will be the 8th woman. But for right now, I need this space to be separate from her eyes. She did tell me that she is committed to supporting me through this process. And I am touched and honored that she is . . . but I believe her support, for now, to be best placed as a mirror and an awakening.

Back to the topic at hand - cycling. I've been cycling more regularly in the last three days - a nice change from being too weak to engage in one of my favorite forms of movement (and sole form of transportation). And this morning, I biked to school for class. Prior to getting on my bike, I was in an uncomfortable space. I'm ovulating right now. And that translates into an internal contradiction . . . half of me wants one thing . . . the other half of me wants no part of that one thing. Do I? Don't I? Do I? Don't I? This morning I chose 'do' . . . but didn't get very far before it became 'DON'T'. Unfortunately, once a door has been opened on the emotions and physical memories that are agitated as a result of this . . . there's no way to shut it in time. It just floods over me and I'm left feeling uncomfortable, in pain, and exhausted.

The smartest thing to do, in that moment, would have been to immediately embark on some sort of self-care. Instead, I wrote 8 an email, because she was struggling with something and was asking for support. By the time I finished her email, I felt even more uncomfortable. THEN I embarked on some self-care . . . but too little too late . . . and I had to be out the door for class. Lesson learned. I started my bike ride and realized that the imprint of the sexual abuse and rape . . . the stagnation . . . was literally blocking the energy that I needed in order to cycle. Each turn of the wheel was a massive effort on my part and I wondered how late I was going to be for class.

So in an attempt to lessen the grip that it seemed to have on my soul, I focused on the word 'receive' as I biked. Better . . . but still not great. I changed the wording to 'receive wholeness' . . . not much better. And I shifted again to 'receive wholeness and light where there is pain and discomfort' . . . repeating that over and over and over again as I cycled through the streets, watching for cars. There were moments of relief . . . followed by resurgences of the pain. And so I brought my awareness to my body, and adjusted how I sat on the bike. Took the weight from my palms and transferred it to my core. Dropped my shoulders. And in doing so found a few more minutes of relief. I moved back and forth from this position as I s.l.o.w.l.y cycled (think 2nd gear) . . . and still felt the exhaustion . . . but knew that I needed to continue to move my legs, even in the discomfort. I focused on a steady pace, those words, my posture, and finally realized how shallow my breath was . . . how tight my chest was. And tried to take deeper breaths. Almost impossible.

When I arrived at school, my legs felt like rubber and my chest felt like brick. But I had learned something about my body and myself in cycling. Something that may help to guide me as I walk through this. About persistence . . . and receiving . . . sitting in discomfort . . . and breathing. And of course . . . about priorities. Me first.

So this evening when I came home, I finally found a space within myself to just let go . . . and in the mix of the pain that I felt . . . I also felt this profound love for 8. This raw, pure energy that flooded my soul and called for her . . . and brought me to my knees in tears. My heart continues to breathe her name, her memory, her soul into my world . . . even with so many miles between us . . . and so many obstacles ahead for each of us. There is peace in that . . . and awakening.

Last night I had a dream that I was called to go on pilgrimage to Mexico. And that just as I was about ready to leave, I realized that I didn't have my passport. I was distraught. I wanted to go so badly, and yet I was so afraid that I would get into trouble, or get caught in security. And so I decided it best not to go. But when I returned to my house, I found that all of the people who I knew and trusted and loved - my community - was there, and they were there to meet me for pilgrimage. I looked at one of them, whom I trust deeply, and I shared that I did not have my passport. And he laughed and said that it would be fine. That I would not be in any danger and that I should come regardless. After I few moments I decided to trust him. And away we went. I woke up feeling so incredibly joyous to be with my community and to be embarking on pilgrimage - as though my heart were on fire.

I think this is my answer to the next step for me in regards to healing. My PSM practitioner had mentioned that you can embark on pilgrimage for healing (not just for a boon to find your partner in this lifetime) . . . and had shared that she knew someone with a similar background (re: sexual abuse) who had done this. She felt that perhaps some of my healing may come in connecting with a sacred site. I believe that she might be right. I truly believe that 8 is my partner for this lifetime. And if I was asked today how certain I was, I would say 100%. And while it feels right to answer the call to pilgrimage . . . it does not sit well with my heart to embark on that pilgrimage as a boon. It does, however, feel right to embark on that pilgrimage with the intention of healing from the abuse and rape. Afterall, those are things that have kept me from being able to fully connect with anyone . . . and therefore something that needs to be lifted before I can receive wholeness in that capacity of my life. When my PSM practitiioner spoke to me about this part on the phone, tears formed in my eyes and my heart ached deeply . . . a sign to me that I understand what needs to happen next and why.