February, Second Year

I have attended 13 USM weekends plus a 5-day USM lab last summer. I feel like I know what to do. I know what's going on. Each weekend has its own feel, its own rhythm and flow, but they seem to generally follow a pattern, a pattern that I thought I knew.

Then came the February weekend, weekend number 14. Hello!

In our first exercise of the weekend on Friday night (usually a nice, fun, light-hearted experience), I catapulted myself into the depths of my childhood angst over my parents' separation and subsequent divorce. Again? Really?

The thing that was different this time was that I went to a much deeper level of healing. It's not like I haven't explored this territory before. In fact, somewhere in the middle of First Year an aspect of this event came up for me to heal and I mentioned it to my brother who said, "Again? Really? Huh."

So here I was again, in third grade, watching my world implode. But this time I didn't just watch it from afar, I re-felt it. I experienced it as if it were happening now. I experienced it just as I had as a confused, hurt 8 year old girl who thought she knew how the world worked. Who thought she knew what was going on and what to do . . . only to find that she really didn't.

On Saturday, I did something I had never done before: I gave my 8 year old self a voice. And I ended up doubled over in gut-wrenching sobs that had no words. The sobs moved through me in waves as I surrendered to the emotions I had carried around inside of me for 38 years. I let my sobs wring all the hurt and pain and fear I had felt back then out of me.

It was over surprisingly quickly. I looked around in a daze, feeling refreshed.

And then I did something else I had never done before: I talked to my 8 year old self and told her all the things I loved about her - her intelligence, curiosity, physicality, artistic ability, athleticism, sense of humor, joyfulness, and lovingness. I told her how much she and Lexi would like each other and how I was sure they would dance and sing together and play in the trees and creeks together. I realized I really liked this little girl. I admired her spunk. My high school-aged self would have appreciated her joie-de-vivre and said that she had a certain "je ne sais quois."

My lesson here was two-fold: deepen and surrender. My intention as I started the first exercise of the weekend was to be "exquisitely vulnerable" and I felt like I achieved that goal throughout the weekend. My willingness to go to the deep, dark places I had never gone before and surrender to whatever they held allowed me to release pain that I had been storing in my body for decades and to heal old wounds that I had covered up so much that I forgot they existed. The other side of that dark experience, where I am residing now as I write this, is a sense of freedom and relaxation that grounds and mellows me and allows me to be that much more present in the here and now.

As I prepare for weekend number 15, which begins tomorrow, I feel like I carry this mantra with me, "deepen and surrender, deepen and surrender." Like those deep, dark places I visited last month, I don't know what this weekend has in store for me, but I will allow my new intention to be bold and courageous to light my way on the next adventure of my soul.