Reflecting, Naturally

I sit. And I weep.

But it’s not enough, to silently let the tears fall.
I open my lungs wide and allow my pain to match the roar of the River in front of me. It’s a strange feeling. We’re often taught to be quiet and still; that if your Being is too loud it may make the world around you uncomfortable. But the storm within me is too loud, too strong. It must be released. It must be heard. It must be FELT, fully and embodied.

So, I scream. I yell. I cry. And with every primal call I offer to Nature in sacrifice, it is returned with the gift of release; small fragments of calm and centering, compiling into a greater sense of Fullness with each fragment.

I wade into the glacial vein, calling in Water to aid in my release.

“Allow my emotions to flow”, I ask. “Allow me to feel and move through my emotions. Allow me to feel them fully, but never allow them to become stagnant. Open the floodgates when we must, but do not flood the village.”

The water is cold, flowing down from the mountain snow. It stings and it numbs. I notice how it reflects my inner turmoil. The pain, the sting and the oncoming numbness. I ask each cell of my body to feel it fully, for remaining numb will transmute nothing.

I give the water my tears, my thoughts and my worries. I feel the ever-moving flow past my finger tips. All I ask of the Water is that it listen, that it hold space for my pain. The Water abides, pulling energy through my finger tips as I continue to release.

I notice the speed and intensity of the water surrounding me. A small pool moves slowly and calmly, a beautiful spot to wade and swim and enjoy. Behind it I see a very small brook fills the pool, bubbling through small waterfalls and playfully giggling. I follow the flow of the water as it feeds into the rapids, becoming deeper and stronger and intimidating; I wouldn’t dare step foot in this section. It runs fast, with intensity; hurdling over rocks, pushing through log jams and maneuvering through every obstacle it meets.

How poignant, how fitting. What a fabulous analogy. A beautiful and enchanting physical reflection of my own inner emotions. An emotion may start small, building and building, layering and layering, till you can trace your explosive feeling back to that small bubbling brook. From the brook, we move into the calm pool where I can sit with my emotion, perhaps even enjoy it for what its rawness. And when its finally ready to be released, it charges forth rapidly, blowing through emotional and mental blocks, uncontrollably.

I move through my internal Water, cycling over and over. Bubbling brook to still ponds to deathly rapids. Laughter to anger to tears. Over and over and over until I finally feel the release.

A sudden gust of wind surprises me and I open my arms wide to receive it.

“Bring me clarity”, I ask. “Allow me the sight of perception. Allow me awareness and a centered mind.”

As it receives my prayers, it gives me one final rush of Air, taking with it muddled thoughts and confusion.  I watch the tree tops dance with the wind. Back and forth they sway, in a mesmerizing orgasmic dance. A sight to behold, that such power would also bring such sensuality. I see that the wind can be fierce, but the trees remain grounded and the roots remain deep. This cosmic balance allow the wind to take what it needs and what no longer serves the trees.

I burry my toes and fingers in the sand, emulating the grounded base of the trees and I send my roots deep into Mother Gaia.

“Make me a grounding cable”, I ask. “Allow what is not mine and what does not serve me to flow straight through to the earth, and not sit within me. Take what does not belong to me.”

I gather the tension in my body and send it deep through my roots. Deep, deep down so that the Earth can cleanse and renew the energy. I feel the energy rushing through my feet an finger tips as I release what was left, thanking the soil and sand for holding non-judgmental space, for its emotional sieve, for its transmutation.

The Sun was hot today. His powerful light permeated my being and caressed my skin. His life-giving fire heated my spirit and soothed my bones. The Fire to my Cauldron. Like a pot on the stove, He boiled my emotions in a melting pot, releasing what was not needed as it cooked down, down, down.

“Keep my passion aflame”, I ask. “Keep my Fire fierce but give me control.  Allow me heat without the burn”

Being an awakening Woman in this world is tough path to walk, and an even harder one to feel. This reality can be difficult to make sense of and Divine truth can be a hard pill to swallow. Seeing so much pain around us makes no sense in our souls when we know there is a better way. Being immensely sensitive it becomes easy to be wounded, but also gives us the beautiful gift of empathy. We attract people in need of healing, then act surprised when their demons bite us. The line becomes blurred walking between Warrior and Goddess, and the line between Lover and Healer all but vanishes entirely.

I open my lungs wide and allow my pain to match the roar of the River in front of me. It’s a strange feeling. We’re often taught to be quiet and still; that if your Being is too loud it may make the world around you uncomfortable. But the storm within me is too loud, too strong. It must be released. I scream till my lungs ache. I cry till my throats sore. I feel the blood rushing to my face, my neck. To release such sounds so willingly, is a sweet freedom indeed.

“It must be FELT!”, my Being screams.

“It must be HEARD!”, I roar in return.

There is no longer space to be remain quiet. No more room for small living. Not enough life to live without.

Without fully embodied love.

Without entangled partnership.

Without all-encompassing happiness.

Without seeing projections for what they are, and excuses for what they are not.

Without Divinity.

It’s time to get real myself. To ask the hard questions. To look in the mirror when I feel the ugliest. To not only patch the wounds, but to stitch them up tight.

I am my own Guru. I am my own Healer, my own Medicine Woman.

But I am not yours.  

"I am my own Guru. I am my own Healer, my own Medicine Woman.
But I am not yours."

Photography by Rebecca Moore