I'm writing this entry in a state of mild depression. I'd have to say that things have not been easy for me since the Chicago trip in mid-May. Actually, the Chicago trip itself was pretty darn challenging.
I drew a Rune of Comfort about a half hour ago. It was Breakthrough ("Dagaz"). I then drew a Rune inquiring if action was required of me. It was Wholeness ("Sowelu"). I interpreted these to imply that the darkness is (soon to be) over (..."Drawing Dagaz often signals a major shift or breakthrough in the process of self-change, a complete transformation in attitude, a 180-degree turn. For some, the transition is so radical that they are no longer able to live the ordinary life in the ordinary way.... A major period of achievement and prosperity is often introduced by this rune. The darkness is behind you, daylight has come." [pp 135-36, "The Book of Runes" by Ralph H. Blum]) Sowelu, writes Mr. Blum, is " a rune of great power, making life force available to you, [this rune] marks a time of regeneration down to a cellular level.... you may see fit to withdraw, or even to retreat in the face of a pressing situation...voyage inward for centering and balance." (p 139-40)
This reading sounds fantastic, although for about two weeks now I feel like I've been voyaging inward, yet again. But let me begin where I left off at Chicago.
I planned my Chicago trip during my "premenstrual" phase, thinking that it would be going better for me, since I've been taking these Chinese herbal formulas for a bit now. The acupuncturist keeps insisting that my body (and my consciousness) have been through a lot in recent years, and that it might take a while to get strength and balance back. I have had some energy blockages, and it's like the flow of Chi in my body has had a dam in place, and is just starting to open up the dam. It's the idea that things often get worse before they can get better.
Physically I felt really awful while visiting Chicago; I couldn't do much, and I was very anti-social. So I guess it was a good thing that I didn't set a big agenda for myself like the last trip, and no clear intention. I spent time with my parents, with Michele, and found permanent situations for both cats. (I do NOT want to rehash the cat story!) I got to relive, as a young girl, going out to my parents' backyard early in the morning in my pajamas during my favorite time of year. The yard was lushly green and humid, and not yet hot. Mornings are so calm, peaceful, and magical, even in New Mexico. As a girl, I used to wander outside and watch the birds and sometimes play with earthworms.
The grand finale to this trip was that the day my flight was scheduled a huge storm system moved in to the mid-West. Again, I don't wish to rehash the story, but I will say this: One day of traveling turned into two, and although I witnessed no physical harm to anyone, I ended up having an existential meltdown in a hotel room in Atlanta. I found solace in Gideon's bible, in the hotel bedside table. I will never, EVER fly Delta again. And when I finally made it back to Santa Fe, I was happier than ever to be home.
On my return, I actually committed myself to yoga. I managed to do two classes a week, with some of my own stretching in between. This was a huge accomplishment for me, and I saw great improvement physically and mentally. Then, one morning after an evening shift at La Posada, and maybe 4 or 5 days in a row of sleeping 6 hours a night (when I like 8 to 9), I woke up in bed once again with the room spinning. This was, I think, the third episode of vertigo since I have moved here.
I seemed to recover quickly, and bent down to get something from under the bed, stood up, walked across the bedroom, and fell hard onto the floor. It felt like an invisible hand had slapped me upside the head. For most of the day I was on the couch, and crawling to the bathroom as necessary. Then I was able to walk fairly normally. But it got worse again. The next week followed this pattern. I would say this is easily explainable by the misalignment in my neck, my need to acclimate to the high altitude, and even the poor air quality, as we suffer from some of the worst forest fires nearby that New Mexico has had in years.
But I think it's more than this, and the acupuncturist seems to think that the fact that I go back and forth between getting better and getting worse is a sign that something is stuck in my body. She is working to help me become "unstuck". In a few days I will be working with a friend who is in a shamanic apprenticeship, and she will also be doing a "clearing". The work she has done with me in the past has been helpful, so I am looking forward to this.
The Reiki and other energy work that I have done on myself has also helped.
In the end, I am feeling that the Summer in New Mexico may not be my favorite time of year. The heat has been hard to bear. Perhaps it might be easier if breathing was easier. A lot of people are much less active and stay indoors, due to the smokey air. They have closed a lot of hiking trails and natural parks. I've witnessed one major monsoon-rain, and I hope to see much more. It cools off so nicely. And of course, it would be easier if we could run errands by car.
Part of my depression is that I'm fully realizing how many master massage therapists there are here... MTs who have 10, 20, even 30 years experience, and who don't even bother advertising themselves or working in a spa. Some teach. Many cure. I have reached a level past impatience, and feel a bit hopeless of ever reaching this level of excellence. Ok, honestly, I feel inadequate. I mean, sometimes I am good, sometimes I am even great. I've had as many clients who say "that was the best massage I've ever had" or some related compliment, as those who don't say anything, but I know that they felt the massage was mediocre. The quality of my work is apparently not stable yet, and I am constantly reminded in one way or another of how much I have yet to learn. This includes training, but also the experience that only time can bring. Grrrrr, says the monster of impatience living inside me, frustration sitting next to it.
Abraham-Hicks say to "tell a new story". One of these days I will start over again.
