Pneumonia – there’s such an emotional weight to the word…. It is something that people still die of, after all, and an illness responsible for the demise of so many of our not-so-distant ancestors. It doesn’t quite have the terrorising heft of the “C”-word, but it is also one of the diagnoses for which the intervention of a “qualified physician” is considered essential and inevitable.
At this point, it strikes me that I should make one of those “cover one’s tush” (it rhymes with “push” – look it up) statements to let you all know that this is simply my personal story and that I’m in no way suggesting that anyone else should do what I’ve done… Ah, the joys of our “civilised” obsession with litigation….
When I was young I developed an extremely antagonistic attitude towards allopathic medicine – not a stance that is difficult to justify, I hasten to say… Now that I’m past ripe and getting wrinkly, my venom has softened with my muscle tone and in any event, as the medical reality rarely impinges upon my own (unless I’m accompanying someone else through its gaping maw and labyrinthine self-justifications) it’s almost never an issue. I‘ve very rarely been (publicly) ill enough to attract the attention of well-wishers insistent that I “do something about it” – until recently. It will now be three weeks that I’ve been watching symptoms shape-shift and move around inside me. I’ve been treated to stern looks with wagging fingers, the shaking of heads and clucking of tongues, everybody’s favorite recipe involving garlic, lemon, ginger, honey and cinnamon – none of which are new to me (I’ve been treating people with natural remedies for 40 years, for heaven’s sake!) – and a dizzying array of suggestions as to what I am most likely doing wrong.
We’re taught to view physical symptoms as a sign that something has gone amiss: “Maybe it was something I ate?” “I guess I’m run down – I haven’t been sleeping enough lately.” “It’s in the family – everyone on my mother’s side had the same thing.” “She caught it at daycare.” “Well, what can you expect with a diet like that?” There is always blame involved, and a guilty party to point a finger at.
What I have seen, however, over the decades and thousands and thousands of cases, is that symptoms usually arise when we are able (not necessarily consciously willing, but at least able..) to go another step further in our understanding of ourselves – they are signs that we are releasing memory caches of past situations and the consequent belief structures that are no longer supported by our present realities. The energy of the situations in question, usually traumatic, has been hidden here and there in logical and predictable places inside our bodies. This is really just an expanded definition of somatisation.
When by effort or by grace we attract experiences to ourselves that are contrary to what we learned was going to be our destinies, our bodies are able to release the somatised memories of the experiences that taught us how our lives were “supposed” to turn out.
If one parent was aggressive and the other suffered abuse, the child learns that she either has to be an abuser or a victim. There is popular understanding of a third option in this paradigm – the Rescuer (the Drama Triangle: persecutor, victim, rescuer) – but actually, the person who puts herself in the position of trying to save either of the other two has been programmed with the same duality of aggressor/victim, but is pushing against it – fighting to prove that this dynamic can be surmounted or escaped. The problem with this is that we strengthen whatever we struggle against. In order to fight something, we have to believe in its existence, and in a circuitous kind of Moebius strip of reality, our belief then creates and supports it. So the rescuer is someone who has been raised with the aggressor/victim power dynamic and, deciding that both roles are unacceptable, instead denies them in herself and fights against them in those around her. Those who simply accept (however unconsciously) the roles of victim and persecutor have the option to either stick with one role throughout their lives, or to bounce between the two choices. In any one of the three scenarios related to this paradigm, nothing ever really gets resolved….
We are programmed by our ancestors through the layering of experiences of similar tone and content. Not unlike the application of consecutive coats of varnish on a surface, eventually the parents can see their reflections mirrored back at them and their natural, evolutionary mission is accomplished. This is how it’s been and how we could still choose to be, if we really wanted.
A lot of us, though, feel pretty well done with this duality business. It just hurts too much. The nuclear family has facilitated an intolerable culmination of painful emotions ( See: Passion, 1 – 7: https://dawnbramadat.wordpress.com/category/tips-for-troubled-times/passion/ ) – a “perfect storm” of dysfunctionality that has resulted in a maelstrom of mores, a Mosaic separation of the waters, a global-scale sorting of the sheep from the goats (See: http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/lana-wachowski-reveals-suicide-plan-382169 )… Those of us doing our best to abandon the illusion of duality and control are doing as graceful a free-fall as we can.
Back to the pneumonia….First there was our sweat-lodge at the Autumn Equinox, the most propitious time of the year for healing the Metal Element energies in the lungs, the colon and the skin that relate to living in a physical body (Is your body a prison or a temple?). Then came the ceremony of Atonement to the Earth on Yom Kippur, the passing from 3D of beings close to me and the resulting sadness in my home, multitudes of stories of abandonment arising and shared, a much-awaited visit cancelled….These were like increasingly heavier weights on a fishing line that sank deeper and deeper into my body and consciousness, touching resonant experiences from my own story and then past my life and body, to that of my parents, grandparents and further….
What has allowed for physical clearing and release – the scraping and hacking of mucous-y layers of sorrow from my lungs – is the manifestation at Heartroot of so many of my dreams…. It just seems to all be coming together – and with almost no funds! As we’ve decided to go ahead with each step – to trust – not waiting to have all the duckies lined up nicely, things have fallen into place, alternative solutions have been found and transformation is occurring…. Life has brought to us amazing, creative and energetic individuals who have come to Heartroot to feed us and be fed…. It really feels like Magic – after twenty-something years of living that at times have looked a trifle less than magical….
Although inconvenient for schedules and that strange feat we call “making a living”, I have still welcomed the symptoms that have arisen, kept me prone much more than I can comfortably handle, and challenged well-embedded definitions of self-worth. I have been waiting and working for this so long – why on Earth would I attempt to suppress this clearing by taking medication that would push everything back into the body parts from whence it came?
For many years now, I’ve expressed the sensation of my Self dissolving…. A transformed external reality, the fruit of effort and of Grace, has allowed my physical body to eliminate the beliefs that created it but no longer ring true, so bringing inner and outer realities into sync. It feels to me as if this individual physical experience of mine is a reflection – a fractal reality, perhaps – of that of the Earth; Wind and Water beat at the Eastern seaboard of N.America this evening as I cough and weep….
Each one of us is a particle of Humanity, which is itself a part of the body of Gaia; in each of our lives we now confront the challenge of relinquishing the strictures of duality to step into a reality of limitless potential….
Blessings and Love,