This past week I participated in a Zen Peacemakers programme, ‘Bearing Witness’, around the Black Hills of South Dakota, visiting sacred sites and reservations with native Lakota hosts - people of the plains, of buffalo and thunder, of sacred knowledge and ceremony.
I am learning to love myself madly, as deep as love goes. To have such sincere wishes for my life, coming from the most broken open place of my heart – you know, the love crack, the one that is brings us to our knees in devotion or prayer or any uncontainable feeling – that I actually become those wishes.
I’m so inspired by us. Navigating this edgy, path-carving terrain - working in the magical realm of the female pelvis - with consent. It’s kind of like therapy at a deep cellular level, except the client is the therapist- listening to her own body, giving it a voice, allowing her body to release into its natural state.
It's a deep need, to belong, and it's easy to get confused about how to genuinely address it. So many times I have sacrificed my authenticity for acceptance into some group, with some person, or some activity. That never lasts.
We had to go along with touch we didn’t ask for as an infant, to survive. Now, as adults, we have a voice and the power of choice. Heartbreakingly, there are countless people around the world who are in cultural and domestic situations in which this is isn’t a reality. But thankfully, a lot of us do have this choice. We don’t have to go along with unwanted touch anymore. And it feels incredibly freeing to fully embody that fact. To remember that this body is my own, not yours. Not theirs. Not up for grabs (unless they are consensual grabs).