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For the Love of a Mind-Blowing Heartbreak

Jun 22nd, 2010 by Tina "Kitty" Courtney

I’m alone tonight – gloriously so.  Orion is flying a trip to Shanghai.  I zipped through a very fun radio interview with Healer this evening on the MetaMystic Radio Show, of which I am now a biweekly co-host.  Been up late working on documentation for the next ZuCamp release, and drinking a bit of wine.  Pandora, of course, has been running in the background, making me gleeful with its targeted selections.  Pandora knows me so well now.  And right at the bitter end, it was nice enough to play The Song – the one I’m just batshit about right now.  A mini anthem of sorts.

The Airborne Toxic Event – Sometime Around Midnight.  Christ all mighty, this is a fucking song.  I’ve listened to it – oh, what, 10 times in a row now?  Found a video of the band playing it on Letterman on YouTube.  Bloody brilliant.  It’s definitely an obsessive song.  By that, I mean – those of us that love it. . .well, we’re freaky about it.  I tend to gravitate to such things, unconsciously.  And this got me thinking.  What is it about such things that make us get so riled up and rabid?

The song is absolutely heartbreaking.  Musically and lyrically, it packs a serious melancholy punch.  In the old days, I realllllly loved this stuff – these kind of songs were just like a really potent bottle of absythne or a killer tab of acid.  Bright Eyes and Tori Amos and Fiona Apple and all the really sullen, channeling, passionately pained peeps – I loved them ever so.  They took me on a ride of indulgence, escapism, and a chance to FEEL – but in a safe way.  Someone else’s emotions, really.  Someone else’s heartbreak.  That’s an illusion of course, it’s ALL our heartbreak, but that’s the game our minds play when they latch on to such things.

Today, tonight. . .I listen to the lead singer’s strained, emotional, destroyed little voice, and I just love him.  Most poignantly, I love the emotion behind his sincerity.  I love it because it’s mine.  Songs about love gone wrong are the norm.  Always have been.  We love everyone else’s heartbreak.  I ascertain these days it’s because, deep down, we love our own heartbreak.  I sure as hell do.  Not necessarily in the moment *sheepish grin* but certainly after the fact.  There’s nothing more in-the-moment, more primal and ALIVE, then those times when our hearts just positively fall apart.  It’s as if those are the only truly authentic moments – when we let down our guard, the stories we imminently carry, and take the time to unleash the beautiful beasts that we truly are.  It’s vulnerability at it’s finest.  It’s so goddamn beautiful.

I used to be a serial monogamist, addicted to the falling in / out of love game.  And with every failed relationship, I let my heart break in dramatic fashion.  Many criticized this process, branding me things like a drama queen.  On one level, that was all true.  On a deeper level, I was dancing with the divine.  God flows throw me the deepest when I just let go, and when the pain of heartbreak railroads me into submission, there is no other path.  I suspect that’s pretty damn universal.  This is why the screeching of lyrics like “You just have to see her, you just have to see her, you know that you’re breaking in two” make so many of us swoon to the point of a pass-out.   Although our relative selves rarely admit it, these are often our favorite moments.  We talk about them, we write about them, we compose songs about them. . .we are them.  More so than the robotic make-believe roles we act out 99% of the time.

This is not to say that authenticity only wears a sad face.  I challenge the notion that these moments are really all that sad anyway.  Yes, in the moment, sometimes they feel unsurvivable – totally overwhelming.  Many a suicide has been facilitated, seemingly, by a broken heart.  But the truth is, broken hearts don’t kill us – the stories around them do.  When we add on a layer of “I can’t live without him” or “This pain is too much for me” – that becomes reality.  The next time you hit this intense emotional place – be it from a failed relationship, the death of a loved one, or just a crazy strain of life circumstances, add in a different story for the event.  Tell yourself – “This will transform me” or “Thank God I get to feel so fucking deeply” or “Finally, finally I get to go into this pain and heal.”

Last week, I let my heart break.  After being around Zen, and watching him battle a potentially fatal bout with cancer, mortality came knocking again.  I watched the pain play out with Orion – consciously or not, we were reacting to this powder keg.  And when my beloved partner and I hit a massive wall of conflict, I escaped to feel.  This time. . .this time, even in the middle of this horrendously painful passion play, I found the part of me that loved it.  Loved the opportunity to drop the facade of “control”, and show a little seemingly out-of-control emotion.  I say seemingly because, it’s very controlled.  In the same way nothing is controlled (man do I love a paradox!)  I loved the opportunity to, as Best Friend would say, Breakdown and Break Through!  Which is exactly what transpired.

I remember, now fondly, my last mind-blowing heartbreak.  The last one I felt while still partially emerged in the illusion of thinking it’s all what it seems / real.  It was gifted to me right as I started awakening to this game.  I had just returned from my first trip to the Amazon, where Ayahuasca had worked to illuminate many of the ways in which I was shutdown and blind.  She had also communicated that the man I was ridiculously in love with – my one and only Seeker – was in fact in a severely narcissistic and toxic phase, and that I would do best by exiting stage left.  IMMEDIATELY.

I had processed this request with sincerity, and was ready to do the deed.  But he had returned from a lengthy stay in Peru, and had come back in a horrific space.  Suicidal, ranting, pain-filled and needy.  I had done what I loved to do with him – put myself last and do anything to assist.  He is / was a glorious being, this Seeker.  So I tried to play the old role of what I deemed a good and worthy girlfriend.

We went to lunch on a Sunday.  It was conflicting and painful in many ways.  We were disconnected, he was angry at what was happening to him – confused by all the very profound revelations he had received in his shamanic adventures.  As was I, but I allowed mine to be diminished in light of his stories – he needed the spotlight.  He always seemed to, but that’s because I was always willing to give it.  We then jetted off to a day time clubbing event where all my friends would be.  I tried to play the role of the dutiful girlfriend, but the newfound authentic fire within was steering me away.  She was seething at his disrespect, his selfishness, his lack of concern for my well-being.  And I was, in part, angry with her – this awakened self that was trying to ruin my love affair. To make me face things I didn’t “think” I was ready for.

After a few hours, watching Seeker get more and more spiteful as the ecstasy that should have melted him made him more callous, the strong girl within finally won.  I feigned an illness and asked for a ride home.  It would be the last time we would see each other.

That next day, I sent him the breakup note.  He lashed out at me in the worst possible way – since I had let him into the insides, he had ample ammunition, and he used every weapon at his disposal.  I wallowed in the most wretched space for three days.  I didn’t leave my bed.  I shutout every last offer of help.  I fantasized about slitting my wrists and disappearing into the ocean.

All the while, the awakened strong one drank up this heartbreak. It was my biggest one, and something told me it would never be like that again.  So I indulged.  And I’m so glad I did.  I let my heart break for every time I resisted such things as well.  At times, I judged myself for the intensity.  Seeker and I hadn’t had that long of a run.  Part of me dictated that this was a mountain out of a molehill.  But somewhere along the way I figured out it wasn’t about him anyway.  Sure, I questioned my actions – what had he really done to deserve this abandonment?  Well, it turns out, he had done plenty.  He had even slept with another woman during our Peru adventure.  I would find that out later – which would give fuel to the tangible reasons.  But those really aren’t the whole story anyway.  Barely even a sliver, really.  This was all about me.

What was happening was simple – I was waking up.  And to do so, for me personally, I had to go through the shadow and darkness, and come out shedding my skin and starting brand new.  I trust I am hardly alone in this journey.  Today, I love Seeker all the more.  I am so, so grateful that he was the catalyst to my awakening.  Through the perceived pain of our separation, I popped my head out of the illusion and found a deeper level of reality.  My instincts were validated.  I got a chance to stand for myself without knowing why.  And I finally really got to shine a light on that destructive self.  All SUCH good things.

Without that heartbreak, I wouldn’t have the beautiful bond I have with Orion.  I wouldn’t have stepped out of the role of my victim stories.  And this is precisely why I think many of us consciously or unconsciously love a good old fashioned heartbreak.  It’s a chance to really get to the heart of what is.  To use the story of the illusion to access the truth of the experience.  Why else would failed love songs be so bloody popular, if deep down we didn’t LOVE the experience of a broken heart?  On the outside, it looks like morbid torture, a really bad time.  But deep down, those of us that survive them – we wouldn’t give them up for all the giggly love-fests in the world.  I’m in a giggly love-fest now – which would never, ever have been possible without the string of Seekers that played that game with me.

Aw, music.  That one passionate, authentic, raw and delicious tune could spur such a tirade of truth.  All righty then, it’s been fun.  I bid thee goodnight.

“And so there’s a change
In your emotions
And all of these memories come rushing
like feral waves to your mind
Of the curl of your bodies, like two
perfect circles entwined
And you feel hopeless, and
homeless, and lost in the haze
of the wine. . .”

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Posted in Unrelated Truth-Pours | 1 Comment »

Into the Stream / The Illusion of Drowning

Jun 20th, 2010 by Tina "Kitty" Courtney

Just when I get accustomed to the harmony and flow of life, a curve ball smashes a dent in my figurative skull.  Several.  Big ones.  Fast balls, see.

Last week, Orion, Hijo and I jetted off to LA for a mixed-bag adventure.  On the menu, in a primary sense, was a visit with Zen, Orion’s younger brother – the one written about lovingly here, in reference to his battle with lymphoma. We stayed at his cute 50′s style cabana in Reseda, and it was my first in-person meeting with Zen and his really lovely wife.  Out of the gate, I loved them both, energetically and in that what-a-cool-human sense.  But because Zen is deep in the thick of his battle with cancer, there is such complexity brewing – every word, every emotion feels loaded and fragile.  It was, admittedly, hard to talk to him.  My issue – I wanted so much to wave a magic wand and feel his soul melt into life and his being feel light and happy again, instead of toxic and doomed.  I had hoped to come in with some tools of assistance, but I felt an immediate barrier.  Even still, the first night went really well.  I gave Zen several gifts – one a juiced-up power object (tourmaline, the shaman’s stone) that has been sacred to me for some time now.  Our dialogue was open and deep, and I felt so honored to have this immediate connection.  But by the next morning, that dissipated.  The reasons, in a relative sense, were twofold – 1) Zen was feeling like poo that morning, and ended up back at the hospital for most of the following day, and 2), Orion woke up in a seriously foul mood, which I then in turn allowed to sink me into a tough space as well.  That would be the theme of the trip – Orion and I were nasty to each other at times, uncharacteristically so, and it kept throwing me for loop after loop after loop.  Tears were shed one morning in the yard as we dissected these blow ups.  I felt unheard, way too vulnerable, and fed up with the self-imposed lockdown on speaking my truth about our interactions.  All gifts, but shit if that wasn’t a powder keg of a scenario.  Looming around a beautiful soul who is facing his own mortality has a natural effect of asking me to do the same.  I reveled in the lack of separateness – because while the ego really wanted to look with sympathy on Zen for his really challenging predicament, the truth is his story is my story, and I could not diminish our shared experience.  I looked it him and felt what it was like to think you’re dying of cancer.  I looked at him and wanted so badly to help him change his story, in part because I felt it as my own.  But then the higher self would chime in, remind me of the perfection of his dance, how it is his path to awakening, if he chooses it, and the sympathy dissolved into the only thing that remained – unconditional love.

Even with this knowingness, I kept my distance from Zen the rest of the trip.  My head surmised that was his wish, but in the nothing outside of self exists realm that I abide by, it was clearly my own.  I’m still often not willing to call out the elephant in the room, and to really stare down the Very Big Topics.  But I trust that it just wasn’t my place to intervene at this time.  My desire to do so was simply egoic.  I looked in Zen’s eyes and felt the barrier.  A wall we both constructed.  And I knew it wasn’t appropriate to try and blaze on through.  So I watched from a distance, sometimes in tears, but always with my heart.

And in the meantime, during all this interplay, the snaps between Orion and myself were coming in spades.  My head spun from the frequency and depth, and I wound up unraveling.  Seemingly confused by the negative interchanges.  By our very keen inability to communicate clearly.  I tried to let it break my heart, but I kept getting self conscious about the surroundings – not my home, not my place to let it rip, in the presence of people facing huge life challenges.  Who am I to come unglued because of spats with my partner?

We made our way home, and while things were peaceful on the surface, I was seething inside.  Angry at myself for what was transpiring, and trying desperately not to project all this on Orion.  By the time we were back in Vegas, it would seem the worst was over.  But then a blowup came worse than all the rest of the week’s crisscrosses combined – mainly because I finally stepped up and spoke my peace, in a very non-peaceful way.  I saw the charge rise up again in Orion, and had reached my capacity to try and process without kicking and screaming.  I brought out the expletives and just unleashed.  Not surprisingly, he didn’t take my projections well – and basically sent me away.  Reached his capacity as well.  So I did something I’ve never done before in our relationship – I left home, and checked into a hotel.  I didn’t actually think I’d sleep there that evening, but the just in case thoughts prevailed, and all I really wanted was a safe haven to decompress inside.  I had previously made my way to my old home, which is now inhabited by a super amazing friend and her equally amazing husband.  I wasn’t sure if they had moved in yet, so I made my way to what I had hoped would be a private haven – then I saw their furnishings inside, and my heart just collapsed.  This was the house I had bought – my first home purchase – thinking maybe I’d live there forever.  Or at least a really long time.  Now it was almost in foreclosure, claimed again by someone new.  And this homeless girl allowed those emotions to just. . .rise to the surface.  So after a good hour spent meditating in a nearby park, I checked in to a local hotel and pondered what might be next.

Orion and I ended up reconciling via phone shortly thereafter, and I made my way back to the new home which didn’t yet feel like home.  As we discussed what had transpired, I suddenly heard myself speaking words I had silenced for sometime.  They centered around my communication challenges with him, felt primarily whenever I hit that fragile emotional place.  The truth is, the deeper I hurt, the more I feel rejected by the one I love (and, in turn, by my own self).  When I’m clear, I know that Orion’s intent in those times is to fight back against my ego, to not let her run the show, and to not become condescending to the part of me that wants to believe this world is real.  I get that he has the highest intentions.  But none of me feels loved during this part of our dance, and it just came to a head in this particular conversation.  I still don’t know what it all means.  I heard myself tell him how devastating it is to feel danger when all I crave is love and warmth.  At the same time, I’m grateful for the really harsh way he treats me in those moments, because it forces to get me clear on what’s really going on, and look inside for unconditional love, not out.  So I’m not sure which part of me is really asking for him to be gentle with me.  And I’m not sure it’s a sincere request.  All I knew in that moment was – I have to tell him.  I have to tell him how much it hurts me to see his anger, his robotic, cold cold reflection, when I’m in my deepest breakdowns.

Then came today’s Sangha – our weekly Sunday meetings with our Enlightened Master, Mac.  Conversations always swarm around the absolute – about the true nature of reality.  Today was a special day – sparsely populated, very direct, very focused.  Orion is off flying to Shanghai, so I was the sole host.  One participant, the Poet – named as such because *everything* he speaks is poetry – talked about the Buddhist notion of “entering the stream”.  This is an act done by the individual who is willing to let down self – to enter the stream and be in the flow of life, not a driver.  No identity at all.  It isn’t enlightenment per say, but it is a stripping down – a willingness to be without ego.  A proverbial gesture of nakedness and vulnerability.  I buzzed as he relayed the notion, and willingly reentered the stream.

This day was magical.  As the Sangha ticked on, all but three of us left.  Guru Mac, Fire-Friend, and myself.  Mac even gave me a foot rub today, as we went deep into the nature of emotions.  I can’t even process how honored I feel to have had this experience.  And through the interchange today. . .I am just now realizing. . .I got my answer.

Mac helped me categorize emotions in a sense – to understand that they spring forth from one of four scenarios.

1) Phobias – the stories our minds create around fears (example – I’m afraid of cockroaches and totally freak out when one is near)

2) Psychosis – illogical, emotional responses to things that don’t even exist (example – My life is a mess because my fear of cockroaches permeates my every day experience)

3) Neurosis – the externalization of illogical fears (exampled – I won’t go in that house because it might have a cockroach)

4) Real (in the relative sense) – emotions that spring up because of actual life events

The first three are tricks – tactics the mind employs to maintain control, and to keep a grip on the perceived sense of reality.  The last one is the only logical place to let emotions run free.  If your dad dies, let your heart break.  If life is throwing you curve balls, let your emotional self feel whatever he / she needs to feel.  But if your mind is creating emotions that do not reflect what you know to be true in your circumstances, do not be fooled.

So I bring this back to my week with Orion.  I think in part our conflicts came from our inability to talk about what was really bothering us.  We projected on each other, rather than talk about the heart of the matter.  And my conversation with him regarding my apparent “needs” shows me the places in which I am not “in the stream”.  I basically voiced to Orion that his way of being didn’t fit my script.  I still say there’s real validity in needing to be treated with kid’s gloves on occasion, but *only* when than emotional need arises from real circumstances, not those created by my mind.

To put this in tangible terms:

What feels right, in the highest sense, is to feel safe and loved and nurtured when the shit hits the fan.  If my brother is dying of lymphoma, if the whole fucking world is imploding, than yes, please, show me some mercy until the floods subside.  But if I’m acting out from any of those phobic/psychotic/neurotic spaces, do not play my game.

It seems futile to dissect the past and analyze when Orion showed me that harshness and when he didn’t – I’m simply grateful for the clarity of where I stand emotionally.  This is all centered in self-integrity.  If I keep that in check at all times, then some part of me will know when the mind is playing an emotional game.  In those moments, if Orion reacts with toxic glances and out-lashes, it shouldn’t matter – nothing is as it seems at those times, and it would just be the ego who wanted to be protected.  That’s the rub, of course, because when I fall into the illusion, I do so because of my ego.  She’s extraordinarily crafty, and she wants to be validated – and is bloody sick of my “you are not real” light of truth.  But I feel like this is another big light in the realm of self-discovery – to insist that I be aware of the source of emotions.  I trust that what transpires between my partner and I will follow suit, and will reflect back exactly what I need.

A big blog post for a very big week.  Facing mortality, blowups with loved ones, footrubs from a guru.  That this is my life makes me eternally grateful.

“Waiting on Sunday to drown. . .”

(Tori Amos)

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Posted in The Path of Enlightenment | 1 Comment »

Shut Up and Heal – The Do Or Die Confession

Jun 8th, 2010 by Tina "Kitty" Courtney

I have no business blogging right now.  I’m riding on very little sleep, working insane hours to get a product launched (ZuCamp, if you care to spy), and I have a glass of bubbly in me, so I’m saucy. Indeed.  It’s a little insane how much I’ve taking on lately – June is shaping up to be Crazy and Mad As Hell month.  That’s a grand set of circumstances to test my surrender abilities, and all this “it’s not real, remember who you are” revelations. Yummy.  BRING IT.

Next week, after another Earth Medicine Apprentice weekend, I’m headed to LA with Orion.  Our visit has many reasons, but at the heart of it all, we are going to see his brother Zen.  Zen is deeply immersed in round 3 of lymphoma.  He first contracted the disease at age 19.  He thought he beat it, but it came back a few years later, at the prime of his newfound adult freedom, and it really kicked his ass.  He subsequently developed various drug addictions, and hit that dreaded downward spiral.  Somehow he rebounded, found a fantastic wife, beat the cancer yet again, and settled in for the rest of his life.  Then a month or two back, the cancer returned – more vicious than ever.  It almost took him from us in the early onset – white blood cells tanked, body temp skyrocketed – a death recipe if ever there was one.  But Zen is a fighter, clearly, and he came through again.  Thanks in part to all the incredible healers and prayer-minded powerhouses we employed to get him through.

Zen is currently receiving chemo directly into his spine.  He’s in crazy pain, hazed by all the medication and madness, and really dying to *heal*.  He wants to live, he’s willing to look at why he manifested this illness to begin with, and as such, I have stepped in to help in any way I can as well.  I can’t tell you what this means to me.  I haven’t even met Zen yet – we’ll do the honors next week.  But I have connected with him – deeply, profoundly, infinitely.  He’s Orion’s brother, for Divinity’s sake – it doesn’t get more sacred to me.  Zen allowed me to do some shamanic journeying work for him, and it took me just a few minutes of deep meditation to find his spirit animal and his cosmic energies.  I burst into tears at the meeting actually, because I felt him so profoundly, and I just loved the being I discovered.  Zen is a Libra, to the core, and they, along with Aquarians, are my absolutely favorites.  I saw Zen at age 18, before he ever knew that cancer would be his demon.  He was so devilish and sweet, so vibrant and funny and just balls-out nutty.  And as I meditated with Wolf, his power animal, and this image of Zen, I felt those parts of him that had never changed.  The awareness that still oozed mischief and playfulness.  In those moments, I knew that he could beat this, if he wanted to.  And I promised to do everything I could to help him get there.

Up until these moments, I have been shy about any healing abilities I may or may not have.  Hell, I still am.  I lay no claims to super powers.  I only know I’m a vessel, and that I *want* to be of service in this way.  It seems that’s all it really takes – declare to the universe that you’d like to help heal, and you will find a way to make it so, if your sincerity is unbreakable.  Ever since I was a child, I wanted to help.  At first, it was to be as a psychiatrist, then a neurologist.  Eventually, I gave up to “professional” aspirations and just acknowledged that it was enough to be the friend you could call at 3 AM and spill your guts too.  Later on, as I discovered Ayahuasca, I thought she would only help me heal myself.  But Aya and San Pedro / Huachuma have shown me a different path.  This is my way to service.  Humility, although an absolutely Godly treat, need not be the only focus when one is ready to heal.  I have been hiding behind an “I’m not ready” veil.  But tell that to someone whose hourglass is dribbling down to the last grains of sand.  Zen needs help, and he doesn’t have time for my modesty.  And so I’m so honored to just step it up and say – OK, let’s do this.  Let’s heal.  I don’t do the work anyway.  I just open myself up to be the vessel.  The best healers get the hell out of the way from word one.  That’s my only job, really, and I can do this now.  For Zen, for Orion – for the Greater Good.  Nothing like jumping into the fire, eh?

When I visit Zen next week, I have in mind some radical approaches, should he be willing.  I should say, should I be willing.  I’m still a little freaked out by taking ownership of this, as the stakes. . .couldn’t be higher.  But I keep seeing visions of how I can help Zen help himself, and who am I to hide behind my fear of inadequacy, when someone just wants to live?  I will have employed all my healing partners-in-crime by then, with advice and support beyond measure.  Zen himself wrote me today and said he’s ready for a miracle, that he needs all the super powers Orion and I can muster.  It’s like Aya has been preparing me for such things since the very first sip.  Is anyone ever really ready for such do or die moments?  Likely not.  I’ll do what I have to, with tears of gratitude to boot.

In the middle of all this, I’m also moving into a new home – along with Orion and Hijo.  A marvelous home, with a lush plant-filled back yard and pool.  Orion and I are riding out yet another foreclosure home – this one belonging to my angel ex-boss – we’ll live there until the bank kicks us out.  Then there’s the chiropractor – seeing a new doc (Badger, his actual last name) several times a week to try and fix this years-long wretched pain, and really abnormal spinal curvatures.  It seems like every adjustment stirs up more emotional shit too – like there’s an ocean of things that have been laying dormant inside those disks and nerves, and every crack sends more to the surface.  The Apprenticeship will no doubt be intensely interesting, and this work launch is completely annihilating.  But it’s all so, so glorious.  I have regular moments of staggering clarity.  I’m laughing all the time about the cosmic joke of separation.  I’m feeling immense connections to those I love, those I like, those I dislike – everything everything.  These are amazing times.

I would be lying if I said I was unattached to Zen’s survival, though, and that’s something I’m looking at with a very clear mirror.  Do I want him to live because suddenly I’m involved?  Yes, I suspect that’s part of it – I want to feel like I have some purpose in these spaces, some actual abilities.  That it’s not just my head thinking she’s something something.  Ego is always there, and I see her for what she is.  But I also connected so strongly with how much life this man has left to live.  It doesn’t have to be his time – I know this unequivocally.  He can change his story, with hard work, integrity, and openness.  And what an incredible, immense, beautiful gift that I can carry – the chance to shine a little light.  He has to do the work, not me.  And yet, he is me.  I feel him and I feel our mutual essences.  Zen shows me the parts of me that are both decaying and dying, and dying to live.  These are the money shots in life.  The chances to see the real Truth of what is.  Whatever happens, I know I won’t be looking away.  It’s the kind of challenge I’ve built my life upon.  Heart – stay open, alert, alive.  In those feeling spaces.  I’ll need every tear and every truth I can find.

“Is it real this infusion
Can it heal where others before have failed?
If so then somebody
Shake shake shake me sane
’cause I am inching ever closer to the tip of this scorpion’s tail”

- Tori Amos

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Posted in Shamanism - Non Ceremonial | 3 Comments »

Apprenticeship Weekend #2, Part 2: The Undefended Warrior

May 28th, 2010 by Tina "Kitty" Courtney

Part 1 of the Earth Medicine Weekend Extravaganza #2 outlined the magical safety / wilderness day that led us into day 2 – aka, The Hot Hot Sweat Lodge soiree.   A sweat lodge!  I was so antsy and excited to really *experience* one of these – so primal and ancient and detoxifying.  I had risen super early that morning to meditate and prepare, bringing my four precious plant parts in tow, so that I may not only honor the four winds / directions, but call on them to communicate with me, and lift me up when needed.  I felt all kinds of enforcements around me – therefore I felt no fear, just a quiet, yet very amped, resolve.

The sweat lodge structure is in the back of Teacher’s yard.  It’s a very small, igloo shaped creation, made of criss-crossing sticks.  The shape intentionally resembles a turtle – within this shape, we can and do recreate the womb, so that we may feel safe to heal and release whatever comes up.  About 3 paces outside of the sweat lodge sits the big fire pit.  This required our attention first – we piled in 34 large lava rocks and dozens more pieces of wood, kindling and paper.  As we lit the fire, each of us kept an eager watch on two things – 1) the strength of the fire, so as not to reach any sort of danger zone level and 2) to see the spirit of this particular fire dance into the mix.  Every fire has it’s own spirit, it’s own essence, and we watched to see who would be communing with us.  A fierce, energetic, powerful force?  A more gentle, playful, loving embrace?  Something in between?  Eyes stayed transfixed as the energies grew.

Teacher called the fire department to let them know of our inferno, and we received interesting news – our time may be limited, as the wind gods were expected to start howling in a few hours.  So we stood around the fire and asked it to please not dilly dally – we needed full force flames, and fast, por favor.  Likewise, dear gods that create the billowing gusts, please hold off on said swooshes until after our little ceremony, yes?

To prepare the space, we first had to create a seal.  We took dozens of blankets and tossed them around the turtle stick-mold – blankets on top of blankets on top of blankets.  Then we sealed the bottom edge with rocks, ensuring that absolutely no trace of light could be seen on the inside.  On top of the blankets went a black tarp – for darkness, and to trap in that all-important HEAT. Hallelujah.

Once the lodge was all good to go, we awaited our new friend, Mr. Fire Tender.  Even Teacher had never met this kind soul – he was brand new to the area and had contacted her about participating in sweat lodge ceremonies, as he’s an old pro.  And as luck would have it, we needed a Fire Tender.   He arrived and in an instant, I knew we were in good hands.  A warm, smiley Libra man with an old soul to boot.  Jackpot.  Everything was in place.  The fire’s spirit was a docile yet spunky one, and he had infused the lava rocks with loads of healing heat.  Knowing it was Time, we opened with a prayer, followed the path into inside of the sweat lodge, and began the next phase of our ceremony.

Round 1 honored the spirits of the South – the playful, intuitive, happy parts of ourselves.  We’d start it off on a festive note.  Fire Tender brought in 7 hot lava rocks and rested them in the small pit in the center of the lodge.  The tiny space got instantly toasty with just one rock – by the time all 7 were in place, I was already coated in moisture.  All of us got out our South plant spirit helpers, and Teacher opened the Round with a lovely prayer / song.  Then, one by one, we went around and offered our own individual prayers.  We were free to cry, sing, giggle, talk – whatever was moving through us.  We remembered, too, the experience we had with our South spirit plant the day before, and much of that came rolling through the lodge as well.  I went third, so grateful to the other beautiful folks who got the party started, and I just went for it.  By this time, I was already feeling the effects of the heat, and so incredibly comforted by the immense darkness.  I spoke outloud to my higher self, and thanked my inner child for leading me to such bliss.  I let the happy tears flow, and expressed the immense gratitude that bubbled up and out of every pore.  Then I sang “I am so blessed, I am so grateful” for a few rounds, tossed my South spirit plant into the fire, and felt my heart rip wide open.

The round lasted somewhere around 30 minutes, and once we had all said our peace, Teacher asked for FT to open the door.  The cool air felt freaking fantastic.  We were all absolutely drenched, but crazy exhilarated.  I already felt like a shinier version of myself.  Yes, the heat was intense.  Yes, I had a little dialogue inside that worried we wouldn’t be able to take four rounds – I mean, what if we couldn’t breathe?  What if we had to ask to get out early?  I knew the rules around such things – Teacher asked that we express what our needs were before going for the door.  To ask for help from all that were there to assist – human and spirit – before succumbing to the egoic desire to get the hell out.  I loved the idea of this process.  I knew that naming my fears instantly deflated them, and that was empowering.  So really, there was no fret running through me.  Three more rounds?  Bring it.

Round 2 honored the West – our warrior spirits.  We fished out the West plants from the day before, and started this round in a much different fashion.  Teacher had handed out lyrics to an amazing Ayahuasca song called “All is Welcome Here”, and we sang that to call in the right energies – right after 7 more rocks were added to the lodge.  As the door was sealed and the process began, I was immediately pounded with an entirely different energy.  Shit was this intense.  I clutched my warrior plant and begged, internally, for assistance.  I wasn’t sure I could last 5 minutes in this heat, but I focused on one breath at a time.  Teacher told us, after the opening prayer, to speak and cry and emote whenever we felt the urge.  There were no turns in this round – a free for all, and a really powerful one at that.  I cried a bit, and wailed a little, but mostly, I just spoke to all that was.  I marveled at how amazing it felt to just feel, without abandon.  To let everything come up and out and just be.  I struggled a lot, almost asking for the door a time or two, but I kept asking my body how she was, and she kept saying – I’m perfect.  Keep going.  And the room, wow was it bursting with power.  We all groaned and moaned and let these deep demons release out of us.  So beautiful and therapeutic. And then my most favorite revelation of the day come flooding through – as I called on the spirits to give me strength to make it through this, I felt my chest thrust out and my arms open wide.  ”A true warrior is undefended,” a voice whispered to me.  I sat awestruck by this thought.  Of course, yes – there is nothing to defend.  NOTHING to defend.  Against what was I defending?  LIfe?  I allowed my arms to remain outstretched and kept imagining my heart, completely exposed, seething in the oneness.  Then Teacher called for the door, and I collapsed at the opening, breathing in the cool and delicious air.

Are you altered?  She asked me.  I giggled and yelled YES, thank you!  I felt more normal than the regular waking spaces usually provided – unbridled, totally taken care of, deep into my true essence.  Wow.  We were all awestruck by the energy that was exploding in that space, and a couple of us exited the lodge to get some water, breathe, and grin like idiots.

Round 3 was for the spirits of the North – our elders.  Our ancient selves.  We had FT bring in 7 more rocks, and Teacher opened with another beautiful prayer / song.  Whereas the last round was full of intensity, this one felt more like a warm hug – soft, soothing, intensely quiet.  My posture was totally different too – I was literally falling into myself.  My chin buried into my chest, hair dancing around in sweat-soaked threads, arms embracing my legs.  I felt like an old child.  Strong.  Wise.  Calm.  The rest of my companions seemed to mirror this energy.  We did a free for all again with the prayers and emotions – but this time it was spoken, and not wailed.  We felt revelations coming in left and right – all these ancient gifts.  Breathing was easier, despite the increased heat.  One of the other apprentices echoed what I was thinking to myself – “I could stay here forever.”  At some point, we sacrificed our North plant pieces, and agreed it was time to move on.  The door opened, and we enjoyed fluids and cool breezes.  About 10 minutes later, the last round began.

The final direction honored was the East – our connection to spirit.  We all had this “go big or go home” energy about us, wanting to take full advantage of our last opportunity.  We invited FT to join us, after adding 7 more rocks (!), and it was marvelous to have his additional masculine wisdom.  He sang a song to open us up, and I just reveled in this incredible, altered, beautiful state.  I took huge, deep, gulping breaths of the sweat-laden air, soaking in the tobacco smells.  I had no tears this time, just a very full chest / heart, and more of that immense gratitude for yet another glorious adventure.  I could feel the toxins escaping every pore.  I could feel spirits literally lifting me up – clearing away the dark energies from my heart.  I remembered my best lesson for the day, over and over, saying to myself “I am an undefended warrior.”  I said very little except this – but that said plenty.  So happy.  So grateful.

And then it was over.  The door opened for the last time, and I piled out to lay in the dirt next to another apprentice, and relish the grounding gifts of Mother Earth.  We didn’t say much, the five of us. for the few minutes after the ceremony.  One of us, the Super Woman amongst us, jumped up to tend to the fire – put out the flames and secure the area.  The winds started picking up just as she did so, and I sent out a big thank you to them for waiting until we had completed our task.  Everything was in flow – so perfect.  So precious.

Once we all regained our strength, we enjoyed an incredible ceremonial meal, cooked by Teacher.  We each blessed a different dish – I got to bless the berries.  We ate the awesome food and positively beamed – all of us.  Such hard work, but such sacred work at that.  I knew I had a long drive ahead of me – 5 hours to Phoenix, where Orion would be waiting, and 5 more hours from there.  The ride home would be magnificent.  I knew that already.  But nothing would top this ceremony + meal for sometime.

And now – now I am cleansed, connected, and peaceful.  And looking to connect with locals who do Sweat Lodge ceremonies, as this was something I’d love to repeat.  Again and again.

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Apprenticeship Weekend #2 Part 1: Safety, Or the Lack Thereof

May 26th, 2010 by Tina "Kitty" Courtney

Silver Leaf Oak

I am an Earth Medicine Apprentice, studying all kinds of magical shamanic and plant-based unravelings with the amazing Julie McIntyre.  In my first weekend, we set the tone for a very heart-spaced union, and begin the process of speaking with the consciousness of plants through the electromagnetic pulses of our own hearts.  The results were head-spinningly fabulous.  And so I was full-on jazzed to take on weekend #2.

We meet about once a month, from April through November – but in between, there’s homework.  In the space between weekends 1 and 2, we were asked to convene with our inner children, on a daily basis.  I meditated with mine a little bit every day, almost always in a different way.  Sometimes it was in the “normal” space of silent meditation, where I would simply call forth that childlike, intuitive, eyes-open angel inside and ask her feeling-based questions.  What would make her most happy.  What she was feeling right then and there.  Sometimes, we would sit with a plant, and she would tell me what the plant itself was feeling – healthy, vibrant, weighted, sickly, etc.  She would also tell me the medicinal gifts that plant offered, energetically and tangibly.  We had a lot of fun.  One night, she declared that for dinner, she wanted broccoli and ice cream.  I obliged, and giggled all the way through it.  I noticed I wore a lot more pony tails – two, set high up on each side of my head, just like a little girl.  I’d look in the mirror and cease to see the aging thirty-something self – the vitality looking back seemed far more ageless.

Weekend #2 started off with a quiet swoosh.  One of the apprentices decided to bow out of the experience, so we were left with just four of us total – three students, and teacher Julie.  The balance felt perfect, despite our sadness for losing our new friend.  The alchemic mix had a delicious, bonded, authentic flavor.  We were ready to go big.  We started out by sharing our inner child experiences, as well as what plants we meditated with, and the results.  Then we discussed the very intriguing notion of safety.  Teacher had us close our eyes and *feel* what the following statement brought up within:

“I need you to make me feel safe.”

It was tough for me not to giggle at the sound of that one.  I’ve done such a deep dive with the illusive bitch that is safety, I feel a definite intimacy.  I’ve called her bluff – she doesn’t exist.  And so the notion of someone else requesting that anyone outside of themselves create this non-existent notion – hilarity.  In that white-knuckled oh shit kind of way.

Think about it.  Safety.  What does that really mean to you?  And when can you actually, in all integrity, say you’re safe in a relative sense?  The world doesn’t have many consistencies, but one is that it is always changing.  Everything in flux, nothing to hold onto.  Which means you can’t guarantee you won’t get struck by lightning at any moment.  You can’t guarantee you won’t wake up with terminal cancer.  And you sure as hell can’t guarantee the person sitting across from you won’t suddenly break your heart.

Humans are so funny.  We demand this infinite sense of freedom, this staunch God-given right to be independent, individual, wild, untamed, and authentic.  At the same time, we want our lovers and our friends and especially our government to “make us feel safe.”  That’s an impossible paradox.  There is no bubble to live in where the world stops delivering it’s lovely little lessons.  And yet we want so badly to have life, minus the danger of death.  I stared this down in a glorious Ayahuasca ceremony that just about pushed me over the edge (and dammit if I didn’t run from it – if I knew then. . .)  I remember floundering in that infinite darkness, screeching for help, SOMEthing or SOMEone to hold onto, and Lady Aya just said “No.  Honey, no.  There is nothing.  There is no one.”  I get it now.  All you have is that infinite space within you – it seems to fit everything but safety handles.  And the more one surrenders into the idea that there is no way to control our lives – that it’s a contradiction just to think it’s even possible – the more the magic of the Flow really starts to unfold (apparently!).  But what a nightmarish lesson that is for most.  And if my perceptions are right, it’s a lesson that most of us don’t *really* learn until we die.  (If then, even – I’ll have to report back on that one.)

I was thrilled to get a chance to go deeper into this safety lesson, and we had a marvelous discourse about this and related topics.  Then we talked about the journey we’d go on Sunday that would defy this sense of safety – a sweat lodge.  Oh.  That sounded. . .unsafe.  Hah.

Later that first day, we ventured out into the wilderness.  It was time to connect with nature, to convene with the plants, and to bring back important elements for our sweat lodge ceremony the next day.  We hiked up a little path deep into the Gila Wilderness, and found a resting spot for the afternoon.  Then Teacher sent us off to find a plant that would embody the first of the four directions we would honor in ceremony – the South side, or the inner child, playful, happy part of us.  We were to comb the surrounding area with our inner child, find the plant that spoke to that part of ourselves, sit and meditate with it for a spell, and bring a small piece of it back with us.

My child brought me to a very pretty plant with gorgeous yellow flowers.  She was part of the pea family, this plant (pine thermoptus, if I could just spell that) – the bulbs of the flowers very much resembled little pea pods.  I felt gloriously happy around her, at first, beaming up a storm in my meditation.  But then she took me into a shadow place – my emotions shifted into a space of mild fear and resistance.  What is this? I inquired within.  Hey girl, why did you bring me here if it’s making me feel a little freaky?  My child had an immediate answer – because it makes me happy to feel.  Well then, duly noted.

Next up, we were to honor the West direction, and find a plant that spoke to our warrior spirits.  I found one very quickly.  The Box Elder.  What a fierce, challenging, ass-kicking energy it had. As I sat with it, I felt my chest keep thrusting out with strong intention.  I felt so courageous and powerful.  My third eye itched like mad.  I really dug this guy a lot.  And if I may add an element of foreshadow, he would be the one to teach me my most profound lesson in the sweat lodge ceremony the next day.  Awesome.

The third plant was to embody our elder spirit – the part within that is ancient, wise, timeless.  This was for the North direction.  I had a hard time finding the perfect plant on this quest – it took me several minutes of searching until I finally spied *it* – holy smoke did it knock me up side the head when I saw it though.  A scraggly, leathery, *fabulous* Silver Leaf Oak (see the picture above).  Now I didn’t know it was part of the Oak family when I chose it, but I did immediately *see* it’s ancient qualities.  Leaves so thick they felt like leather.  This one totally looked like a grandma plant to me.  And as soon as I sat with her, a poem came to life.  I saw a bug walking across one of her leaves and immediately, the verses came.  When I returned to Teacher after the meditation with a piece of her in tow, Teacher told me the name of the plant, and we chuckled on how appropriate that was – an Oak as my elder spirit.  But of course.

Finally, we set out to find the plant that most connected us to spirit – to honor the East.  I became enraptured by a tiny leafy green gem that spread across little sections of the forest floor.  As I stared at him, he looked like a veil – the kind that would reveal to me another way to look at “reality”, if I trusted him to take me there.  I was totally enchanted.  I lay with my face thrust in him for a long while, and I felt ego-less for a spell.  Light, airy, protected, joyful.  An Ayahuasca song came to life in my mind.  The plant told me to use all of my senses, as often as I could, to get into deeper communion with What Is.  I had my most powerful meditation of the day, and brought back a piece to show Teacher.  It was a Rue, she told me – she suspected at least one of us would choose that plant for the East.  And as it turned out, two of us did, and the third almost chose it too.  Hundreds of plants in that wilderness, and two of us chose the same one, for the same purpose.  I just found that magical.

And so ended our delicious day.  Teacher asked us to bring the plants we picked to our ceremony the next day.  We were to eat very light the next morning, get there bright and early, and prepare for a big experience.  A true sweat lodge ceremony.  What on earth what I uncover?  Would I cave and need out before each round was done, or could I hang in there and get past my mind?  Would I need to feel safe, or could I just trust the big expansive nothingness to guide me through?

Part 2 coming in a day or so :)

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