For some time, I had
been saying, I’m too busy! I need to slow down. I’m seeing too many clients!”
Well, they say to be careful what you ask for! Suddenly, I had to cancel all my
Craniosacral therapy sessions for at least six weeks. While I have continued
teaching Continuum and seeing my other clients and supervisees, I am blessed
with a freer schedule. I am also blessed with the potential gifts this new
injury offers!
I hesitated to write
this blog post. It could be embarrassing to admit this has happened again, but
what is it in me that is embarrassed, and can the gifts and lessons here be
useful for others? Can I put aside my ego, any needs to be admired as a
healthy, fit Continuum teacher with fluid bones, and just get on with receiving
what is here?
To be clear, I don’t
see this fall as an accident! Yes, I was doing a stupid thing, standing on a
folding chair to hang something up, but when I went back to the corner of my
office where it happened, I was amazed. There was just a tiny spot of floor
available for my hand to land in, which is what it did. The rest of the
available floor space was covered by a big, thick cushion! If I had landed on
that cushion, I probably would not have been injured at all! It was almost
impossible for my hand to have found that tiny spot of bare floor, but that’s
what happened! This was not an accident in the usual sense of the word. This
was an offering, a wake up call. I didn’t receive the one six months earlier as
fully as I might have, so I was being showered with gifts once again!
So many gifts. So much
potential. I could reject the gift, choosing to hold on to something older, or
I can enquire, receive, and share. I choose the latter.
What gifts?
The most obvious gift
here is of slowing down. I was asking for this! Now, having not slowed myself
down enough using all the tools I have gathered over the years, I have
temporarily lost the ability to do anything quickly! The subtle attention
required for performing with one hand the simplest everyday task – washing,
dressing, eating, cooking, even walking – slows me down, preventing me from
escaping this moment!
I am challenged to
practice what is most important to me in life: to accept and appreciate what
is, with equanimity, simply being present with what is.
I must listen on a
deeper, more subtle level, which is what have I strived for for years.
I have a rich
opportunity to study the tissues in my body in relation to injury and health.
As a Continuum Movement teacher and Biodynamic Craniosacral therapist, I have
been fascinated observing the densification occurring in my wrist with the
shock at the moment of the accident and the first moments following it, and then
watching the shock and trauma in my system dissipate and integrate over time. I
have observed waves of shaking, trembling discharge and enjoyed exploring the
powerful effects of using Continuum sounds and micro-movements, allowing the
inner wave to dissolve the density.
I am having ample occasions
to observe, accept and be with my feelings, including gratitude, pain, and
frustration. At one point, I announced to my husband, “I’m going to have a
tantrum now, and I’m going to observe my sensations during it!”
I am learning to more
readily ask for and receive help. After flying to New York last week, I have considered
in the future wearing a sling every time I travel, in view of the abundant the
kindness and support I have received from so many strangers!
Finally, unable to
function habitually without pain, I find myself creatively engaging with the
moment. Life has become like an ongoing mindfulness meditation or Continuum
Movement practice!
Dying to Each Moment
Recently, I watched a
video (https://vimeo.com/158838428) of a
favorite somatic teacher, Camille Maurine, with whom I studied in California,
between classes with Emilie Conrad, founder of Continuum. Camille has written a
wonderful book called Meditation Secrets
for Women. She reminds us that each breath can be perceived as a birth and a
death. Emilie Conrad saw true fluidity as being able to die again and again.
She wouldn’t make someone a Continuum
teacher until she saw that they had died
enough times, like a snake shedding its skin, letting go of the old and beginning
anew in any and every moment. When we hold on, we densify in a familiar
pattern, becoming less fluid and responsive for the next moment. This is true
for both our tissues and our psyches.
(Image of snake shedding skin: By Sean Gagnon (Own work) [CC
BY-SA 2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)], via Wikimedia
Commons)
When I consider the
moments of real change in my life, they generally relate to something not
working out as expected, or facing a serious challenge, often involving health.
Perhaps, this is such a moment.
An important principle
of development is that growth does not occur without challenge. For example, every
stage of embryological development involves meeting a challenge, like
implanting and developing the beginnings of a placenta and umbilical chord when
needs for nourishment grow beyond what can be taken in from the uterine fluids
by osmosis.
What is dying for me
just now? What needs to die? Perhaps, it is time to let go of any remnants of
needing to be perfect. Believing I’m not good enough just the way I am. Living
with more speed than I want or is good for me. Ignoring messages from my body
to slow down. Living according to the limitations of time.
Emilie Conrad used to
ask, “If we were not bound in time, would we be susceptible?” meaning would we
be affected by our outer world. A major intention in Continuum is to deepen
beyond the bounds of time, submerging ourselves in a more fluid, primordial
state that precedes time. We find that, indeed, in this state we are less
dependent on the outer environment for our needs and more resilient in
interacting with its effects.
In the moment of the
accident, I was very much bound in time, just trying to quickly get something
done in the 15 free minutes I had. I was trying to squeeze this task in before doing my Continuum practice! From
now on, I do Continuum first!
Since the accident, I
cannot function in that urgent way. I am supported in living in this moment,
because I can’t do things quickly. I can’t multitask. This means I can’t be
planning or thinking about future moments while engaging in this one. I can
only be in this moment and then the next.
Ahhhh! I feel grateful.
I am less bound in time. In an odd way, I feel freer.
What is dying, trying
to die, or needing to die for you? I hope my words here support you in being
able to let go and allow this death without having to break a bone! Please let
me know by leaving a comment or sending me an email at cherionna@cherionna.com.
Hello Cherionna,
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for sharing your precious experience! It is so beautiful!!
I had a similar experience lately. I didn't injure myself, but my whole system just didn't want to function as it used to do. It was like I had a huge dark cloud all over me all the time. So, I took everything slow, thanks to practicing Craniosacral therapy, I know how, and started to pay more attention to myself. Then, old patterns and beliefs started to show up and get released layer by layer. Like you said, I now can feel more fluidity available physically, emotionally and spiritually.
Thank you again for your insights!
In love & gratitude,
Keiko
and than you for sharing your experience! It's powerful and empowering to practice what we know!
DeleteWonderful blog post! Thank you. Yes, slowing down .... Not something our technological culture supports. bio flow and the clock aren't necessarily congruent. Being in the body mindfully and moving through life from there is spiritual work, and isn't it wonderful to slow down enough to really meet the nuances of what is available to us in every moment. An ongoing practice. Dying into the moment, moment by moment.
ReplyDeleteYes, dying into each moment offers such potential to be born anew in each moment! Thank you Amrit for your astute, poetic comment!
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