Spelunking the Uncanny Quiet

I don’t have anything burning to say… that I’m aware of.  But I am showing up, holding space for my Self.  The truth is that since my cancer diagnosis, I have become more internal than ever before.  I guess because it’s such a strong subject and people have so many opinions and so much fear.  And I want neither.  I am moving along my Path, illuminated from within.  Everything I need is coming to me with ease and grace.  

For example, a couple of weeks ago, Rosa brought me an article that she found wedged in a stack of books that someone recently gave her.  The article was in english, and it was about a man who had colon cancer that metastasized to his liver.  He tried all this natural stuff that didn’t work.  Finally he let the doctors chop out a big chunk of his liver and his body was rocked.  Without missing a beat, the oncologist was pressing him to undergo chemotherapy… but he somehow caught wind of the notion that ayahausca (a strong plant medicine) could heal him.  So he did four ceremonies and at the end, the spirit of the plant told him he was healed.  He went in for a CT scan and it was confirmed- he was cancer free.  The oncologist was so shocked, he requested another scan.  Yup.  All gone.  

Was it any coincidence that this article found its way to me against all odds?  No frickin way.  So I contacted the warm and wild hearted wise woman who facilitates Santo Diame ceremonies in Assisi, to see if she could help me.  To my surprise and delight, she offered to come to my house for a private prayer and medicine ceremony.  People keep telling me  that treatments work if you BELIEVE they will.  That the MIND plays a massive role in healing.   I believe in the power of plants.  And my own body.  And God’s grace.  (and NO, I am not relying SOLELY on this medicine.  It is merely an element of my healing journey.)

On the other side of the coin, the mind also plays a massive role in sickness.  And the universe is giving me a big, juicy opportunity to dig into this demension.  Manuela Forte has been appointed by the Divine Mother to support my journey since I was sent to Italy.  She is an Italian spiritual counselor/meditation teacher/ambassador of Consciousness.  Her heart is pure and kind and she has an impressive following.  She shared my story with her community, and invited people to support me if they felt moved from their heart.  The response was stunning.  So many women of the light stepped forward and shared money, prayers, words of love, art, song and healing resources.  An older woman named Annalisa offered to serve as a guide for me to heal the thoughts, beliefs and emotions that created my illness.  Her modality was developed by Essene doctors in Jesus’s time.  The system is designed to determine and dissolve any illness at the ROOT.  Annalisa said she will walk with me as long as I need her.  We have already begun.  

Witnessing all that is flowing to me in benevolence and grace, I feel quite stunned.  I realize that at a soul level, I have created this as a shocking, undeniable call to DIVE THE FUCK IN and DO THE DEEP WORK.  If the Call was a whisper before, now it is siren screaming down a swanky sunset boulevard, alarming the greasy crackheads and slick billionaires alike.  

God I am willing.  At least willing enough.  Navigating a human ego is certainly like herding a flock of arrogant cats.  I assert this as an acknowledgment of the parts of me that want to hide out and hope Life will safeport me to the other side of this treacherous river.  But there is ENOUGH of me that is not only willing, but also EXCITED to unravel old trauma and pain and beliefs in sickness…. May God’s Grace fuel this part of me, that it may move with strength, swiftness and precision.  

And what of my marriage, you ask?  Gosh… this topic might be officially nominated the Ultimate Buzz Kill of 2021.  Giordano is terrified.  And enraged.  Thankfully, he is doing his best to keep his overwhelming feelings to himself.  But this causes him to pop into our reality in brief sparks, fleeting moments of buttery sunlight amidst a purple black storm. (Wait, that was super poetic… but being with him is actually not buttery sunlight.  It’s black and purple like storms and bruises and uncharted neighborhoods of the Underworld.) At first, I felt very upset about this erratic behavior.  But I noticed that feeling upset was antithetical to healing.  So I’ve been working to get right with how it IS.  Byron Katie says that “Reality is God”.  If you want to love God, you gotta love what IS.  So I’m in the active practice of letting it be.  I was hoping for a lot more support and connection from him.  But if it’s support and connection I crave… I can find it elsewhere.  And hence be a helluva lot happier.  Sounds tempting, eh?  

The weird part is that he alternates between begging me to come home, and then dousing me in fires of rage and attack for having left.  He doesn’t seem to understand that the only thing that will entice me “home” is kindness, joy and love.  But when we are together, he is mostly distracted and miserable, and I feel so thankful to have a peaceful, energetically light space to come home to after our heavy interactions.  We tried therapy for a minute. The first session sucked ass, because it came on the heals of a string of cruel, emotionally violent audio texts from him and I felt scared, hurt, angry and unsafe as fuck.  That session ended with me exclaiming “FUCK YOU” and then storming out.  (But the beautiful thing is that G spoke with the counselor for another two hours!)

Then Giordano stepped through a pane of glass and spent the night in the emergency room and somehow this softened him.  Soon following, we went to speak with a different counselor, and it went markedly better.  But this had nothing to do with the counselor… only the erratic emotional climate dictated by the quicksilver gales of my wounded husband.  I am aware as I write this, that I am putting it all on him.  I’m asking myself if this is a) accurate and b) useful.  It truly seems like he is the one who is flailing and floundering.  And I don’t feel safe.  I’m willing to dig in and search for that which has been hidden from my view….  And these words represent my view at present time.  

Yesterday Giordano took Forest for the afternoon.  When he brought our beloved child home, he loitered in the entry for some time, neither wanting to stay or go.  It felt sweet and welcome… to have him lingering at my threshold.  Forest showed off his recent bubble blowing skills to his impressed Papa.  Forest has been in a self-appointed full bubble blowing immersion.  He can be fully absorbed in the act of blowing bubbles and then catching them on the wand for a half an hour or more, punctuating our streaming Now Moment with eratic strands of short, tight-lipped exhales.  

Speaking of lips, Giordano kissed me before he left.  It was an urgent, rushed tongue kiss. Neither of our mouths were particularly wet… It felt as if his mind had already made it to the truck and sped away, while his body was simultaneously eager to express its desire and love, and also to catch up with aforementioned mind.  Part of me enjoyed it.  Part of me was bewildered.  And then he was gone and I was blinking in the sputtering exhaust of his figurative roaring tailpipe.  

I feel grief for the sexual self in me who is currently in forced exile.  My erotic energy flows in quiet swells within me… denied a source in which to pour forth.  She carves tick marks into her corroded cell wall, dreaming of a day when She will melt and bleed as sunlight unbounded.  But for today, she’s all unrequited love songs and half hearted suicide notes.  And to Her, I cry out, “Hang in there Lover… I will come back for you.  I will pull you out of the rubble and nurse you with sweet flower nectar from my very own lips.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: