(Originally published in December 2021)
Hi friends –
In a little less than a week I will transport my consciousness into a fog of anesthesia and consent to having my gallbladder, a cute little organ that has served me mostly quite well for the last 45 years, removed. As you may know if you follow these letters, this little sweetie has been collecting little stone treasures and keeping them in her sack. (Seriously, gallstones are surprisingly beautiful and can look a bit like they belong on the shelf of a local gem store). I often fill the spaces around me with pretty stones, so it’s no surprise really that I would fill a little sack within me with them too.
Nevertheless, from time to time these stones slip out and cause a potentially very dangerous ruckus to my system. For the last year I’ve been attempting to gently dissolve them with a strict diet, supplements, healing treatments and visualization. Since doing this I’ve had no attacks and felt so much shifting in my system. But the ultrasound still shows some stones and if any one of them decides to take a journey down my digestive tract again, it could be very harmful.
So, last month I surrendered. I blessed my body and willpower for the work well done and gave myself permission to rest and receive support from the healers dressed in scrubs. I am so grateful to have taken the time to try all I could and to find the surgeon and timing that feels more resonant for me.
These stones have been teachers to every cell of my being. They have pointed me to find and feel my anger and to acknowledge and celebrate my needs. To throw off a lineage cloak of sexual shame and repression and fragmentation of spiritual and physical and awaken to the garden of delights that is my sensual self. The stones, and all the inherited stories they represent, are ready to be composted and liberated, making space for new, more aligned stories for myself and all I am threaded to.
Forty-four years ago, when I was an infant, my young self needed medical help too. I had an enlarged thymus and pneumonia and there was a serious question about whether I would survive. I inherited lots of wounding in my ancestral line, but also so many clear strengths. One of them was that I had a family who believed in the power of prayer and community. The word went out about my condition and I had hundreds, maybe thousands, of prayers from all over the world infusing the cells of my little body with love, light and vitality.
Trauma is not the only thing that gets remembered in your body – all the love and resourcing does as well.
Not only did I miraculously recover, I’ve felt that covering of love and support throughout my life since. No matter what emotional wave or challenging thought I was riding, I’m grateful to say that I’ve always felt a deep sense of interconnectedness to the fabric of all of creation and, after one sacred moment’s pause, I can usually quite easily connect to the divinity and soul radiance in every person I meet… including the one I see in the mirror.
So, as my parents and extended family did many moons ago, I am asking for your prayers. Or whatever language (focused thoughts, healing energy, loving intentions, etc.) most freely brings you from your head to your heart. As you send love my way, I ask that you feel the preciousness of your own sweet body, tender heart and soul’s journey. You are not alone, walking the labyrinth of this time of dire beauty. And I am grateful to know that I am not either. With love and gratitude,