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For the past seven years, my life has been consumed in an academic position I have not wanted for nearly six of those years. But I have continued to be appointed to the position--it has taken me away from intellectual pursuits that I so dearly love and that feed my soul. It has been a battle each day to even go to school, because so much of my time has been eaten up by administrative details. To compound this long-term frustration, another story must be woven into the picture. And it has signaled the close of your workshop last September, Bunny and Jane. Last spring, a woman (Beth) on campus had suggested that she and I bring in a guest speaker from New York (Phyllis). Quite a well known and respected writer and feminist. We asked Phyllis to be on campus last April, but she couldn't get here until this October because of a book deadline. As the date neared for Phyllis to arrive, her demands and controlling behavior became worse and worse. More importantly, my burnout is so great, I had NO interest in doing all the work that is required for such a high profile visitor. Beth (my partner) had agreed to do all the day-specific scheduling and to introduce her at the public lectures. So my patience was fairly intact because I knew I would have some help when Phyllis was in Warrensburg. Phyllis was to arrive on campus the 14th of October and then leave the 16th. Last Tuesday, the 7th of October, Beth told me she had to have emergency surgery the next day and would be out of the office for two weeks. I would have to handle all of Phyllis' needs and the events. Phyllis was a huge bundle of issues for me: My mother, my father, my brother, a friend of mine, and a microcosm of what had happened in the women's studies program several years ago. The woman who represented Phyllis several years ago is named Kathy. I have worked quite hard to heal the Kathy issue, and I thought I had pretty well released it. But Phyllis was the gigantic log knocking at the door (as Chuck visualizes it), and I was on my knees waiting for it. On Saturday, prior to Phyllis' arrival, I healed a huge hidden-self issue (that I had to be good or I would be punished, that I had to give in to everyone or I would be punished--mother stuff). I was exhausted Sunday and Monday. I could hardly stand to deal with all of Phyllis' demands, and dreaded beyond all dread to have to take care of her for three days. I was grinding my teeth, I had steel rods down the back of the my neck. . .I was miserable. In that misery, I asked the universe to let this work out the best for everyone involved. That it was way bigger than I had ever had to deal with before--it was all my stuff piled up higher and higher. And it was bringing me to my knees. At lunch on Tuesday, Benton and I were talking about all my "stuff" that was piled up in Phyllis. We agreed it was a shamanic test, as Chuck calls it. I called it a great big "hairball." And it would sure feel good when I finally threw it up. I told Benton about how I had asked for everything to work out for the best for everyone. But that I doubted my circumstances would change. Then I told her of my image of how trust works--the Indiana Jones movie where he must get Jesus' chalice and fill it with water to save his father's life. And after Jones makes it through several deadly passageways, he is confronted with this enormous abyss. Across the abyss is the cave where the chalice sits. After considerable terror, Jones closes his eyes and takes a step off into the abyss. Then magically a stone path appears that takes him to the cave and the chalice to save his dad. I told Benton I had to step off in the abyss. This was too big for me to do by myself--I did in my mind step off into the abyss, but that trust to do so only lasted a nanosecond. The "reality" was I had to do this thing with Phyllis all by myself. As I headed out to the airport Tuesday afternoon to pick up Phyllis (she had actually rung my cell phone during my law class to make sure I had the phone on!), my cell phone rang. It was a woman from Phyllis' office--Phyllis had fainted in the airport and was in the hospital! When Phyllis called me later, she canceled her trip--it was a MIRACLE! I still cannot believe it. On Thursday, I was doing a great deal of integration during a massage. A native American painted all in white came floating into my consciousness. I just watched him awhile; then he asked me what I wanted. I didn't answer because I had not had time to assimilate all of the Phyllis issue, much less where I'm headed next. Suddenly a coyote came running through my vision, laughing hysterically. A huge bear appeared and covered me with bear skins. Then I just felt peace. The painted man is still in my vision. Just floating there. I feel peace I've never felt before. Nothing seems the same to me; the world is not the same. My relationships feel a little hollow, nothing seems important to me right now. You taught me how to trust, even if it was for just a nanosecond. I know now that if I trust, truly trust, the universe will be there for me. And I know it's not about anyone doing anything for me, or me doing anything for anyone else. It's all about me handing over my life to the universe. I still feel like I'm being held in its arms, just floating there. The painted man floats patiently watching me. You know, the coyote was never inside of me. He was just always in my vision, but never in me. I wore his skins, but his essence was never in me. The bear is inside of me, safe, warm, and peaceful. Peace* CA Bunny and Jane: Thanks for the kind words. Every day is something new it seems. The painted one finally asked me if I wanted gifts. I said yes. He disappeared. I don't know what any of this means, but my life is SO completely different. I wish I could explain it. Perhaps as I integrate more of what has happened, the words will come. This is too incredible. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for being my stewards into this enormous change. One thing of interesting note is that ever since your workshop I kept asking the coyote what I was supposed to do. Why was he with me? He never answered. When he ran away laughing Thursday, I realized with enormous clarity that he was there to make me realize how ridiculous it was for me to want "someone" to save me. How sucked into my "reality" I was. Once I surrendered, then he didn't need to represent the "tricks that reality" plays, and I could find the beauty of peace and safety. Whew! Love and peace. . .CA I feel rather foolish about this, Bunny. I mean my life has changed in a profound way, ways I can't really explain. But I feel kind of goofy—my own page? Jeez. About the painted one: he finally asked me if I wanted "the gifts." I thought about telling him to come back later, but thought "what the heck! This is all so crazy anyway." So I said yes. He just put out his hands as if he was offering me something, which I felt (sensed something in and around me), but I cannot make any literal sense out of it. Then he floated out of my vision. He has not returned. I do not know what that was all about, except the same thing I've been saying--my world has changed so radically I feel like a stranger in my own life. This is all too weird. If I'm making all this up, why don't I know what's going on??? But I will keep telling you what's happening as it happens--as I make this up, I guess. One thing is for sure, I love this peace and contentment. I could use a lot of this. CA P.S. One (another?) absolutely weird thing: When I saw the painted one, I tried to identify him. All I could think of was the Native American ghost dancer, which was a religion of sorts in the late 20th century U.S. Native American population. When I looked up ghost dancers on the Internet, they had nothing in common with my painted one. But, I found the "original" words of the ghost dancer "messiah," which were translated into English at the time they were spoken. The man who translated them had a last name of Edson. My father's name is Edson. Lordy. |
You asked me to write about your workshop last September. So, here it goes.