SeeingRred
The Unburdening
I remember a time, just after I had decided that it was time to heal myself once and for all, I started to feel something strange happening inside. It started as a hum, very faint and obscure. It might have gone unnoticed except for the fact that, with the protective weight coming off, I was becoming more accepting of my Self and in tune with my body. As days went by, it became a buzz and then a drone. Persistent with its underlying staccato beat, it made me jumpy and a little unnerved.
I did not understand it at the time, but all of this was just the prelude.
Deep notes set the tone…. Dark, cryptic, foreboding. Out of its shadowy roots, it started to take form. Mounting with titillating confidence and cacophonic intention, it rose in magnificence wielding its staff masterfully. It took hold, steering me to and fro in a rhythmic trance, higher and louder to an ephemeral lift where, for the first time, I could fully feel and see. There, in synchronization, with the omniscient eye of the maestro, I suddenly dropped. The power of the performance catapulted me forward and left me raw, unbound and trembling.
Shrouded then only by the pulsing cadence of drums, still trembling, I looked back. There, having risen to the peak of a momentous crescendo, in that moment of harmonic glory, there was an unforeseen shift in the sequence, an unexpected chord.
Revelation: I am not an instrument. This is MY music. I am the song.
The Soul-Searching
Overcome with awareness, the tremors inside were constant and unrelenting. I felt the pressure building up inside of me. I was scared and uncertain of what to do. I looked, but there was no one. No one to talk to. No one to steady me. No hugs to receive. I knew I had to release this pressure. And, I had to do it alone. The only thing I could think of was to embrace it and allow myself to FEEL. So, I did exactly that. I gave myself permission. I set aside time every day. Five minutes at first. Frightened, shivering, I sat still, taking deep breaths into the hollows of my belly. I willed it. I welcomed it. And, it came little by little, on its own accord, each time timidly at first, then hurtling itself at me. I took it all, all of its pain, all of its fear, all of its fury and cradled it. And, finding solace in each other’s acceptance, we cried and cried. With each cry, there was release. With each release, came a sense of calm. And, with the calm eventually I found comfort and peace.
The Denouement
For a long time, I did not cry. Like mighty Hagar in The Stone Angel, I would not cry. “What was the point?,” I would say to myself. “Just a waste of time. Just a sign of weakness. It won’t change a thing.” But, I’ve long since learned that, although it cannot change the past, whittle away regrets or undo hurts, a good cry does help. When I feel dark and desperate and the mounting pressure in my head becomes unbearable, it is a cry, unbridled and raw, that I can rely on to defuse the pain. For me, a cry is the ultimate therapeutic form of release.
Written April 27, 2018
