Monday, May 24, 2010


The blog seems hard to continue in this space of settling into what is.  I realized that when the tragedy first occurred, it was easy to write, easy to tap into the pain, the fear, the urgency of the matter.  As we head toward the six month mark, I feel lost in a different sort of way.  Things are better, yes, thank God, but things are much different now in my whole being. 

I distracted myself quite cleverly, starting a new job, throwing myself into my life, taking my dog out for long walks, avoiding much time to pause, to really take in the weight of what has occurred.  In the midst of all this distraction, my back went out a month ago and it has not healed.  My back has always been strong.  I have always been strong, but then I found a weakness in it and I wonder if my sudden difficulty sleeping and walking and moving freely and lifting and playing and running and biking is in connection to my brother's pain.  On the same day, we both ended up with a heel lift for our left foot...apparently, my left leg is shorter than my right and is putting additional pressure on my spine, which has fairly significant scoliosis.  My brother's left leg is also no longer symmetrical with his right.  All this is happening around me and I haven't stopped to sit quietly, to listen.  I wanted it all to be over.  The tragedy ended, why won't the effects?  And so I realized, our minds have an amazing ability to cut off from our bodies, allowing our bodies to take on and endure what our minds cannot process.  Our hearts, our hips, our backs bear our burdens and we don't even reconnect until we are forced to...bedridden and in pain.

I talked to my yoga instructor, Nianna, a wonderfully intuitive woman with insight and knowledge and compassion that pours out.  She suggested I come to the Core Empowerment Workshop and then to Yin Yoga following.  I hesitated because of my back and I decided to go because of my back.  She suggested I sit quietly and listen.  I realized then that listening, feeling, is what I had been avoiding all this time.  My back, yes, is susceptible to injury, to stress, but it also speaks to the tightness in my hips, the holding place of our deep emotions.  The pain is in my low back, toward my pelvis, the power center of our bodies.  I did my best to allow comfort in, to allow the pain to release, as much as I could.  Tears flowed freely as I rested in a beautiful studio overlooking the choppy ocean on a brilliant Sunday. 

My brother is healing.  We are healing.  Healing is a process that includes pain and tears, grief and loss, longing.  It also includes warmth and compassion, grace, and humility.  It is a wondrous process where love really takes hold.  I am grateful for the supports in my life, for the moments of oneness to all that is.