On Friday night we had a Full Rose Moon, or Strawberry Moon, named by the Algonquin tribes as the season to gather the ripened fruit. What are you harvesting at this time in your life? Is it sweet? Does it feed you?
Sunset in the ethereal waves:
I cannot tell if the day is ending, or the world, or if
The secret of secrets is inside me again.
Anna Akhmatova (trans Jane Kenyon)
There is much to distract us, to disturb us, to distress us in the world today. Yet there are also beautiful, brave, bold new energies and creations emerging like strings of strawberries from the dirt. This is a time for us to define, refine, sift through what our heart’s mission and soul purpose really is. Like sifting nutrients from the mud as Flamingo does, we can gather the sweetness and the essence of our truth to partner with others in our tribe for a new story. We must let go of our old stories, anything that is superfluous, and speak the truth.
When order crumbles, mystery rises. (John Shea)
Breaking free from an old story can be abrupt, as I found out recently.Sometimes, by falling, we may have to shed all that is not essential to our wild souls to get to the heart of what is trying to be born. At least that is what happened to me, when I collapsed on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant Chow in Lafayette.
Feeling a little nauseous after lunch – perhaps it was the coconut milk chai latte? The earlier political discussion about the firing of FBI Director Comey as I jogged around the reservoir? The poaching of rhinos? Not knowing where we were moving in three weeks? -I had gone to my car to rest on the reclined driver’s seat. But as the nausea subsided, I began to feel dizzy. Black spots spread rapidly across my field of vision. I had just enough time to grab my keys and open the car door, calling to a woman nearby talking on her iPhone. “Excuse me, excuse me, I need he..” then slid to the concrete with keys in hand. Splayed on my back like a stranded starfish. I hear my keys hit the concrete. For the next 20 minutes or so I could hear people around me, trying to help. I could not make a sound nor open my eyes. A man picks up my wrist. Then lets it go and it falls to the ground. “Does she have a pulse?” “Yes but it’s weak.” “Is she breathing? Is it agonal breathing? Does she have alcohol on her breath?” That annoyed me. But for the vast stretch of time there was only stillness. Silence within. No stories. No opinions or feelings. No fear. No lights at the end of the tunnel, either, or faces of beloved lost ones. It did pass through my mind this might be the end. That was okay. All was well. Just as it was. I wasn’t struggling to breathe nor was there any pain at all. Most astounding, although it felt quite simple and matter of fact, not at all dramatic, was that I was completely There, and utterly Not There. The thought passes by that perhaps I m leaving. I have no opinions about any of this – rare for me. No feelings at all – also rare. Yet I am completely present to sound, the feeling of the breeze, a hand on my face, a pounding on my chest, a few slaps to my face. Perhaps I had some feelings about that. The same level of annoyance when on of my helpers asked if there was alcohol on my breath, if I had been drinking. But no place for my indignation to land or be expressed. It just passed along. I did not see my ancestors, nor see a light, or a tunnel. Perhaps that will be different someday. But maybe leaving will be like this. Peaceful. Quiet. Simple. So very calm.
Eventually, as my heart rate began to rise above 50 in the ambulance, a hydrating IV in place, I opened my eyes to the most vivid sights. The green of the trees, the white of the EMT’s coat, his deep brown eyes. Where had I gone? Nowhere. Everywhere.
At the hospital overnight for observation and EKG monitoring, the tests were extensive, thorough, from CAT scan to echocardiogram. Nothing turned up. “You’re the healthiest, strongest elder I’ve ever seen!” enthuses my lovely Indian doctor. “Ha!” I respond, nodding to my IV drip. I tell my two older children not to visit as they have their own children in tow. My older daughter sounds very somber on the phone. Is she burdened by my absence and inability to help with Scout this weekend? But it turns out when they put her call through I was housed in the Oncology ward and she thought they hadn’t told me yet that my 2001 cancer had returned. It was just a free spacious private room with a view. I had one visitor: My youngest daughter who has not spoken or written to me for two years, for reasons I do not know. Periodically in that time I have written to her, especially after a dream of her. Trying to stay connected, trying to stay in my heart. Recently I have fantasized running into her in Berkeley- perhaps at Whole Foods, or Berkeley Bowl where we both shop – and yelling at her. Turning my back! Refusing to acknowledge her! But when I saw here in my room all that fell away. No effort. It just was no longer there. I was happy. I patted the side of my bed “Come here.” And we snuggled for a good long while. We talked some. Not much, about what was going on in our lives. No tears, no hurt, no anger. No need to explain the past, no need to define the future, either. “I love you.” “I love you.” It was just perfect as it was. She did confirm a dream I had written to her had, in fact, happened. That was enough to know. Confirmed for me that visible or invisible, we are connected. The gifts and learnings of this mystery continued to unfold. A friend and colleague Nancy Mills “The Spirited Woman” who runs a wonderful global women’s foundation called me for the first time in over a year. She had been thinking about me a lot. The urge to call me would not let her go. She had a new scarf for this month’s donation named “Awakened Energy” she thought I should have. Then I had to tell her what had happened, leaving us both silently stunned.
As with all mysteries, it will be a long time, if ever, I will understand the falling. What exactly fell away. Who is left. I will say there were many miracles about this day and much to be grateful for. Usually I would be on the freeway at that time, to pick up my grandson from preschool. But that morning we could not get my car seat to work so his mom would pick him up. I had a few seconds warning allowing me to get out of the car rather than pass out inside my parked car. I did not hit my head on the concrete. People helped. Someone even put an explanatory note on my car so it would not be ticketed or towed. How did they know to do that? I have health insurance and the hospital care, extensive testing, were amazing. One of the women who tended to me on the sidewalk tracked me down at the hospital. I was so happy to be able to thank her and to tell her I was fine which “made her day”. “You were so pale; we thought you were gone.” I did not tell her that I was, and was-not, gone.
A few days later I went back to my office and found a dream drawing from February 2017 which foretold this event:
Towards the end of the dream, I fall to the ground with all my keys and several tools on a heavy key chain beneath me. A man hands me back just one key, a large key with full rounded top, in solid gold metal. Then he says “You only need this one. That’s a mistake so many people make.” To try to understand this one key, on waking I had drawn it with oil pastels to perhaps see what it was. [The drawing packed in a moving box at the moment.] The large solid gold key turned out to be a Goddess with rounded arms and an abstracted, triangle form to her lower body. At the center, a heart.
So this is the key, the one heart, which I had forgotten in trying too many different things and tools and templates for my livelihood, my calling. Which I am sure I will forget again. Perhaps not. So much of the old story fell away when I fell to the ground. So many surprising and wonderful new connections since that day. In searching for a likeness, today I found many Anatolian Goddess figures from about 5,000 B.C. The word “Anatolia” (Turkey) means City of Women. So I am centered again, solidly, simply, in the heart of my work with the sacred Feminine, the Wild Feminine, my soul sisters. Just this one heart is what I offer.
This is an especially good time to tap into your intuition to see what life, what love, is asking of you. To listen for the soul story longing to be born through you.There is great wisdom available to you when you are honest, when you allow your heart to sing. Sometimes it helps to have a translator and mentor to discover the key to your heart, so that you may celebrate and create with it. Contact me if you would like a consultation in person (Bay Area, California) or Skype call. In celebration of this Strawberry Moon, summer solstice (June 20) and still being here I am offering a 20% discount on a half hour or hour session. From $275 to $220; half hour from $150 to $120. Email me to book an appointment.
