Tuesday after a long weekend - a lot to report and talk about. First thing is that Elizabeth's friend's mother passed away as expected. Got a sobbing call from Elizabeth on Saturday morning - tried to reach deep to find believable words of comfort. All the platitudes (she had a great life; she didn't linger and suffer much; everyone got to say good-bye) sounded too false, so I simply said, "There is nothing good about this - it just sucks.And it's going to be rough for a very long time. Everyone will rally at the onset, they'll rise to the occasion for the funeral, neighbors will bring covered dishes, there will be eulogies that bring a measure of peace, but when all the ceremony is over and the people have gone home, that family will be a mess for a very long time. She left too soon." I found myself crying too, especially when Elizabeth described the youngest child - a teenage boy, whose normal mode was too cool for school. When his mother took her last breath, he sobbingly yelled, "Mommy!"
Sunday night....I planned to do the cord cutting ceremony I described in my last post, but I just couldn't. Everything was laid out for it, had carved out the time, house to myself, but when it was time, I broke down in tears - too final and I couldn't do final. Liza and James assured me readiness would come in time. Then yesterday I reached out to him, told him what I had planned. I needed to know this is what he wants and needs too - finality. I sang to him - "I Thought About You", a song that has haunted me for months now - think it made him teary. And then final good-byes, this time, the real deal. And oh my, I have loved that man so - every single thing about him, even his faults. I wish he had been bolder, had more imagination and could have figured out how we could have had a future together that might not have looked anything like the dream he's carried around, but that would have been wonderful nevertheless. If it was kids he wanted in his life, there were ways to make that happen - our life could have spilled over with children, dogs, cats, grandchildren, friends. Could have been amazing and energetic and rewarding. He and I are both high octane people - we make things happen, we "take" hills - we succeed. But apparently 'twas not meant to be which can only mean that there is something else that is meant to be - for both of us.
The ceremony. I mixed three types of bath salts: Inspiration, Heartsong, and Purify in a warm bath, lights off - just a candle on the edge of the tub to see by. I poured the water over myself and audibly asked for help. "Purify my intentions. Heal and free my heart. Give me inspiration to move forward with hope and optimism. These are the things I ask for." Then I sat cross-legged on my bed with a special scented bee's wax candle before me - the only light. I dressed carefully - naked but for an open kimono. Music by Wah - Savasana, given to me by Martin. The description: "This collection of chants is designed for deep relaxation. In yoga class, the posture for deep relaxation is 'savasana' - the practice consists of dissolving the body and mind into a space of deep spiritual peace, featuring sharmonium, tamboura, violin, flute, bass, and free-flowing vocals."
At first, I sat there feeling foolish, wondering how it would work, sitting quietly for about ten minutes just staring through the dark at the candle, the only light in the room. Then I asked to see the cords and I filled my head with creative images of what I imagined they looked like: a pink gold cord from my heart to his - pink because my love for him was, in so many ways, girlish and innocent - gold because his love made me shimmer. The cord attaching our navels, I imagined to be thick as a wrist, deep blackish red - where the dark and insecure feelings were exchanged - the suspicions, anger and frustration, the clutching, the loss. When we broke up, Patrick said he threw up for days.Most recently when he told me he had found someone special, I felt punched in the stomach. It made sense for the cord connecting our bellies to be the hardest to unhook, the one that would cause the most pain. I also pictured a tangled web of cords connecting our brains, our eyes, our lips - like pulsing traffic lanes of energetic activity. Even our noses connected - they were once joined when we kissed, adjusting to make room for our lips. And I cried when I thought of his hands and how he always had to be within touching distance, whether it was reaching for me across a dinner table, watching a show with his arm around me, holding me from the back while I cooked for him, even holding me down with one hand when we made love. I pictured green cords connecting each of our fingertips.
All this imagining took a while - every part of our bodies, even our feet that were once entwined as we slept - all corded. Still I wasn't convinced this was a worthwhile exercise - it felt silly, contrived and pointless. BUT, then, when I closed my eyes - it happened - I saw a single cord that was not as I imagined. It wasn't lush and umbilical like the picture in my head. Instead it was an absolutely straight, incredibly bright, pencil thin light that showed itself to me. I think I gasped - this was not my mental creation. In my imagination, cords were spongy, lumpy, curly - they meandered between us, not taking the shortest path. The cord I saw was the opposite - unremarkable in its simplicity, nothing an artist would draw. It showed itself and then it was gone - very strange. I wonder, if I was better at this airy fairy stuff, if I would have seen more. Inspired, I then went about the business of unhooking each of the cords I had conjured. I talked to him, "Patrick please take this, this one too." I handed him the cords, then put my hand up like I was stopping traffic and pushed the air to emphasize that the cords had to leave my sphere - they were his to reclaim. One by one, cords that connected my brain to his, our eyes, our lips, our hearts of course, our navels (there was pain), our genitals, our legs and finally our hands - I unhooked them all and sent the cords back to him with clear intent. Despite the pain I already felt stronger so I made my arms in the shape of a circle, like I was holding a large ball, and in a ballet-like motion created a protective circle of care around myself, asking that the cords not be allowed to re-penetrate the sacred space I defined.
Finally I gave thanks to the gods for bringing him to me when I needed him so much. I visualized my wounds healing instantly, cauterized with light. Then, just as the music ended, I blew out the candle - eerie that I was completely done at the exact instant the Savasana was over. "Wow," I said. I feel different - felt peace for the first time in a very long time. The ceremony had taken about an hour - it was a bit before 1AM when it completed. Sent Patrick a text telling him it was done and thanked him for the amazing gift of his love.
Today, I'm good. Writing this was a bit hard - I was thinking not to share it a) because it's in my past now and b) because it's so hippy dippy. But I'm also mindful that there are a lot of us walking around in pain, with unfinished business. Spiritually, I'm about as conservative as you can get, and maybe this was all Hocus Pocus after all. But maybe it wasn't. I absolutely saw the simple cord that was not at all as I had envisioned it to be. And, after the ceremony, I felt free and clear and at peace, finally. It holds - today I feel like a new chapter has begun - good. Challenge today is thinking about doing your own ceremony if you, too, have a need to free your heart, have unfinished business of your own. Martin instructs me that one can ask for freedom from anything that binds and ties you down.
Peace,
Sarah
Picture is of Patrick and me in December - I look serene but I was anything but. I had hit bottom and he literally rescued me that day. I will always be grateful to him for that.
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