We Forget, To Remember
For the first night in many, I laid myself down to breathe, though it was certainly not without some resistance. I scanned through my Sacred Terrain recordings from my teacher Erin Telford and landing on one for expression and creativity. There is a lot of writing that I have been putting off, for more reasons than feeling a creative block, but we’ll leave it at that for now.
I set myself up in the bed; eye pillow, loads of blankets, and two pillows to yell into. Erin said she’d use oils and smoke by-proxy so my tools stayed put. My resistance made itself clear through feelings of frustration and light headedness couples with lots of yawning and an ache in my neck. But I had already started so I deepened my breath, as per her cue, and remembered why I showed up in the first place - because I’m ready to move some old shit out of my body. She told us that we could speak out loud to someone we felt like we needed to and immediately my mom’s maternal lineage came up and I spoke and I breathed and I spoke and I cried and I breathed. And I was fired up with them and the work I felt like wasn’t mine to do. I didn’t want to carry the pressure that lineage felt to fulfill dreams and careers put to the side and left behind. And then we yelled. Which always pushes me right into me body. It felt easier to breathe and softer and so I started laughing. A song came on and the tears came for a moment and then it was just me and my breathe,
breathing to get free.
free of the thoughts.
The moment I released the breathing it felt as though the weight of the world was laying on my chest and my legs. I’ve done this before, I said, soften into this experience. And within a moment I was sent into the deepest moment of gratitude. For my body. For my breath. For my teachers. I haven’t felt this soft in body and this quiet in my mind in weeks.
I used to tell a dear friend that sometimes we forget, so that we can remember. We can at times forget how the tools we’ve been gathering along the way can help us heal and ground, until we decide we want to remember. Or, until they find us again.
And so it is.