Iron will rusting and returning to the earth

April 9, 2007

I drug myself out of the house today to see Salmon Boy. I realized that I had not driven or even been upright much since Friday. It felt good to be out and about and even better to be back home in bed.

I am in that restless place in healing where I don’t feel sick and I don’t feel well. I need to rest – but rest is boring. I tried to listen to some CDs I have on the four-fold path – and my mind kept drifting off – no concentration. So I thought I would come here and capture the essence of our session today.

As soon as I started to collect my thoughts on my “undefended heart” this memory of a cross country trip with my mother popped up. I suppose she popped up because it is with her that I most often fail to have an undefended heart. Being undefended around her is like preparing to defend my thesis in graduate school – it requires preparation and concentration and focus.

What an interesting connection that is – equating my thesis defense with being undefended with her. Mmmh – will have to think about that connection. <comments and insights are welcome>

Graduate school has been on my mind for lots of reasons. On my trip to Kripalu – I stopped by and visited Bethlehem Steel and my former house. I felt drawn to the house – but I think really what drew me there was the iron, the furnace, the steel works, and its appearance in my dream –Finding My Heilig Guides.

So much of my iron will is rusting in the fields and returning to the earth, just as Bethlehem steel is rusting and transforming and returning to the earth. A whole way of being in the world is shifting and it seems to be such a sudden event – but in reality the preparation for the process happened underground for several years before the dream.

A steam locomotive carries a lot of yang energy. The pressure, the drive, the following the straight tracks – all aspects of me that are slipping away, derailed, resting and rusting. With ease, I conjure up the dream locomotive, in the meadow, resting peacefully. There is a faint, sweet scent from wildflowers that are ecstatically blooming and taking advantage of the short growing season. Although it is warm and the sun can be intense, a breeze stirs and cools me. I am filled with a deep sense of peace. I feel no sorrow or sadness for the steam locomotive of me.

Back to my mother… Slowly, I have reeled back in the many things I put on her that were mine during the tense times that we cared for my father right before he died. I now fully understand the term “regression.” Under stress, I become super-efficient and in control. The lack of sleep, the fear, the physical demands of his care – all sapped every bit of rational, mature, adult functioning right out of me. Yet, it was a comfort to him that I made a spreadsheet and plotted out all his medications, dosages, and timing. “That’s my daughter” he proudly told anyone who would listen – becoming super-competent to remain in control – I suppose there are worse coping mechanisms! This one had the advantage of insuring that he was comfortable and well cared for in his final days.

Forgiveness for the family craziness we all acted out during that time comes slowly, but it is coming as I ask for what I need, and accept not getting it, and find it in myself, and give it to others.


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