Solstice – present and past

Written on Solstice 2019 

A year ago, I went to Medicine Man’s to prepare myself for the winter solstice festivity that evening.  It was a ritual of sorts.  A goddess letting go of what no longer served her.  A goddess accentuating her beauty for herself, but also for Gentle Giant.  Medicine Man proclaimed me “smokin hot.”  Gentle Giant didn’t say anything.  He never did.  Not once. 

I don’t know how to tell this story.  365 days later, and I’m still caught up in it.  The Universe can be cruel.  Heartless when it decides to beat a lesson into you.  When it decides you need to learn something.  The sad thing is, I’m not sure I learnt what I was supposed to.  It became about so much more than myself.  My small, seemingly insignificant speck of a life.  My ancestors were drawn in.  My Mother and Grandmothers were called in to receive healing.  I received a profound healing, yet my heart remains broken.     

It’s safer to spend this solstice in a shack in the bush.  Away from people.  Away from men who only want things on their terms.  Away from the concrete prison.  Away from women who turn into bitches because of their own raging hurt and pain.  Women who have far strayed from their natural maternal nurturing and healing ways.  I’m more suited for aloneness.  The aloneness doesn’t hurt when I’m in the bush.  It’s my home, it’s where I’m supposed to be.   

I’m still trying to figure out how six weeks with a man could mess me up so badly.  It becomes an issue of me not being able to validate my intense sensitivity.  It’s not “normal” for someone to be so broken after something so innocuous.  

Am I ashamed?  Yes.   

Am I embarrassed?  Yes.   

Am I naive?  Probably 

Am I vulnerable?  Not sure 

I’m not stupid by any stretch of the imagination.  I go where the heart leads.  I follow my intuition.  The universe said that me and Gentle Giant needed to have a go around, so we did.  I listened.  And got incredibly wounded in the process.   

In this moment, I sit here in the cabin, it’s dark out, the fire crackles, the candles glow, the boys sleep peacefully, in this moment, I hate myself.  I detest my gentle nature, my loneliness, the ugliness of 2019.  I hate that I am not more mainstream.  Able to have flings.  Able to sleep around.  To cut loose what no longer serves me and move on.  To not care that I don’t have friends.  

What is the root of this angst?  Why does it persist in lingering?  Causing havoc and upset in my life? 

I can’t blame poor decision making.   It wasn’t a stupid choice.  There are no mistakes.  We were supposed to be together for a blip in time.  Is that what I’m having hard time with?  I need something to blame?  I need a reason for this incredible pain?  To know a purpose? 

Why do I feel shame over making a mountain out of what society calls a mole hill?  It’s long been established that I am not like most of society.   

 Who cares what they think?  Why do I care?  Why do I still care?  It’s been a year.  Because I want to fit in, that’s why.  I want to be “normal”, or at least more normal.  I don’t want to have to fight every single day to be ok.  To survive.  And why do I want to fit in?  It seems like life would be easier.  To go along with the herd mentality.  To be the status quo.   

I close my eyes to examine my blockages in detail: 

Gentle Giant – A small metal ball, 1″ in diameter.  So dense it is impossible to pick up.  It’s fused to the ground, the grass around it dead.   

Shame – Ice/glass.  2-3′, 50lbs.  Smooth, all curves.  Impossible to get a hold on it.  It just slips and slides.  Unwieldly. 

Once I have those two images that signify Gentle Giant and shame, I turn on The Bear by Niall.  I lay in the dark and wait to see what will happen.  The beautiful music stirs my soul.     

My spirit animals and guides dance, a tribal powwow type dance. Round and round we go, surrounding the shame with our movements. Dancing and dancing.  The angels come close to the sculpture, each holding a match close to the surface.  Small efforts are powerful.  But then it morphed into a huge mountain.  I stood there stunned.  It was akin to Mount Everest.  I wasn’t sure what to do anymore.  So many angels and native Americans surrounded the mountain, holding hands.  Thousands and thousands.  An entity put a huge piece of rose quartz on the summit, love radiating down the mountain slope.  The summit seemed to glow and I felt so overcome with emotion.  Just as quickly as it morphed into a mountain, it shrunk down into a molehill, then down into nothing.  Then the melted water from the ice sculpture turned into a beautiful glacier like lake.  I lay under the stars, in a campsite.  Lay around the fire.  Intending to stay the night.  Surrounded by my animals.   

Then I was laying on top of the small metal ball.  Still completely fused into the ground.  We surrounded it with rose quartz, all the size of the metal ball.  In a spiral so large it covered a great deal of the planet.  It was not affected by the love.  Then I was curled around it in the fetal position, the ball was in the middle, as if i was trying to protect it.  I was out of my body, trying to tug myself away, sensing this was not a healthy thing.  I pulled as hard as I could, afraid I would tear my skin away that was frozen in the ground.  Unconscious.  Frozen in the ground just like the ball.  Thrown out like a piece of garbage by Gentle Giant.   

I can’t get her loose.  The animals and spirit guides have left me.  I want to give up on her and leave too.  Abandon myself.  If all these people throw me out like trash, maybe I am trash.  Not worth the effort?  I call out for Joshua and Papa, but there is nothing there.  No one comes, then I disintegrate into sand.   

I’m not sure how to shift this, so I will leave nayelli laying there frozen into the ground, surrounding Gentle Giant.  I find this disturbing.  I am not giving up.  It’s not in my nature.  Maybe I don’t want to save her…… 

It’s a day later, and I’m at the shack again.  As I was walking back to my car last night, I got hit with a truth.  I wrote that I was not giving up because it’s not in my nature.  That’s not entirely true.  As much as it disturbed me to leave nayelli laying there frozen, appearing dead, I was also ambivalent about it.  Caring, but not caring.  I could just as easily keep working at getting her free as I could throw my hands up in the air, say fuck it, and walk away.  It hurt a bit to realize I did that on my 40th birthday.  Too full of pain, too lonely, too confused too keep going.  To disappointed and full of rage.  I didn’t see a way of keeping going.  I was incredibly disillusioned, so I walked away.  I gave up. 

And the journey continues.