(This is the fifth installment of a series of posts describing my experiences in San Marcos, Guatemala from November 7th up to the present time. Subsequent posts will follow very soon.)
There are no adequate words for how I feel on Sunday evening after my amazing emotional cleanse with Sandra and Keith. On the one hand, I indeed feel ecstatic and emotionally reborn. On the other, my body is wired – behaving as if I have consumed an overdose of caffeine.
Physical exhaustion reigns supreme – yet sleep seems an impossible fantasy. I rest for a few hours in my room during the afternoon. My eyes are closed but my mind never leaves the race track – continuing to speed around the sharp curves at excessively high speeds.
I am again snuggled tightly in my blankets by 8:00 p.m., but any attempt at sleep is laughable, increasingly futile. So much stagnant energy had shifted in my body that it seems as if every cell is staying up late, chatting excitedly with the neighbors about the amazing windstorm that came through the neighborhood earlier in the day. While eagerly cleaning house, each of the little cells seems obsessed with constantly sweeping the corners, rearranging furniture, redecorating the walls, and opening the windows to let more energetic light shine in.
A continuous sequence of frequent time checks leaves my tired mind estimating that perhaps I may have slept for a few hours between 1:00 a.m. and 5:00 a.m., but the jury is still out on this one, deliberating their verdict. Perhaps I did sleep, the jurors argue, but then again, there is reasonable doubt. Maybe I just forgot to check the clock during those early morning hours.
High as a Kite
Monday morning (November 22), I walk into The Flower House feeling as if I am on a different planet. My head is still floating in the clouds and my feet feel as if they are levitating six inches above the ground.
I am not quite sure how I feel. Spiritually high would definitely be accurate. Physically dead, as if my body had been drug behind a pickup truck all night, might be another adequate metaphor. In desperate need of some physical rest and more spiritual grounding is probably one of the better descriptions.
Feeling incapable of social interaction, I sit quietly in a corner, letting my mind drift in the clouds while others go about their usual pre-class routines.
I am deeply excited to begin this week’s classes with Nadia. We will be exploring various areas of Sacred Geometry – a topic that has become one of my passions over the past three to four months. In fact deepening my understanding of Sacred Geometry was originally the only reason why I was even interested in the possibility of studying with Nadia.
Sacred Geometry
Explaining Sacred Geometry in a single paragraph is next to impossible. First of all, I am still trying to integrate the understanding into my own soul. I am neither qualified, nor do I even presume to have a comprehensive grasp of the complex subject. In a nutshell, however, geometric and numerical principles form the basis for the creation of our physical world. Everything in this material realm has energetic counterparts in higher dimensions – dimensions of higher vibration energy that is invisible to our five senses.
Our physical body is surrounded by an energetic field in the shape of a star tetrahedron – two three-sided pyramids, one pointing up and one pointing down, overlapping each other in a way that creates an eight-pointed three-dimensional energy field that surrounds our body. Similar energy fields also exist for our higher-dimensional emotional and mental bodies. The balance and movement of these energy fields is all part of our inner light body that helps us to balance and to raise our level of consciousness.
My main goal in studying with Nadia this week is to learn how to do a somewhat-complex meditation practice that helps to get these energy fields spinning in certain patterns that will stabilize the inner-light-body energy – a meditation process called Mer-Ka-Ba.
Today in class, we learn the first phases of this Mer-Ka-Ba meditation. I am still floating in the energy as we take our lunch break. Our afternoon lesson time involves learning how to draw a geometric image known as “The Flower of Life”. Drawing the image is one thing. Actually understanding it is a lifetime process. I don’t yet know how, but a profound sense of knowing tells me that seeking such deeper understanding is definitely in my future. So many of my previous spiritual synchronicities are pointing me in this direction! All I can do is trust that things will be revealed to me in sequence, exactly as I need to know them.
Monday evening, my soul is begging for an opportunity to begin writing. So many incredible things have happened during the last sixteen days. I feel desperate to catch up – desperately craving the opportunity to document and to share my journey of growth.
Because of a shift in schedules, it turns out that tomorrow will be a short half-day class at Nadia’s. As I drift off into much needed restful sleep, I dream about my creative release. I do not know how far I will get in my writing, but my heart is demanding that I fully immerse myself into the creative process beginning tomorrow afternoon. I am fully committed to honor my inner need. Nothing will stop me – nothing.
The Setup
Tuesday morning, after practicing the next phase of Mer-Ka-Ba meditation, I am again floating in spiritual la-la land. At 12:30 p.m., I give Sandra a quick hug and excitedly tell her that I am running home to begin my writing.
Sandra will be receiving a short treatment from Nadia before she herself comes home. I am eager and excited to have a few minutes of quiet time by myself to whip up a quick batch of mashed potatoes before locking myself away in my room to begin my passionate writing.
“Oh, Brenda,” Sandra warns me with love, “Sharon is coming over this afternoon to help me with our secret project … but I promise that we will talk quietly and not bother you.”
“No problem.” I tell Sandra with a slight lump of hesitation in my throat. “I will just hideout in my room. Don’t worry about me.”
* * * * *
PLEASE – PLEASE – PLEASE – read the following before continuing on …
Dear sweet Sharon. How I love her so!
I love this beautiful little twenty-five-year-old angel-from-Israel with all of my heart.
But accessing that love has not always been so easy for me – in fact it has been quite challenging – perhaps my most profound growth lesson of the past few weeks.
Today is not yet the time to go into my bumpy growth-filled relationship with Sharon. I guarantee that this will come up quite soon in subsequent writing. But I do need to put a tiny bit of framework in place at this time.
Sharon and I have recently passed through some amazing growth integration – we are both incredibly grateful for the way in which we manifested each other into our lives. But the rollercoaster ride has at times been a wild one.
On Tuesday, November 23, my relationship with Sharon was still quite stressed and tentative. Don’t get me wrong here. We had experienced great times too … but our personalities seemed to clash in very confusing ways. On a frequent basis, her behavior seemed to push every one of my emotional triggers – sometimes just one or two at a time – sometimes all at once. Often, it seemed as if Sharon took great delight in smashing those triggers using a sledge hammer or even a stick of dynamite.
I write today with Sharon’s loving permission. She knows how deeply I love her. She knows how much I once struggled. We are both deeply blessed for the growth that we now share together.
As you continue reading, PLEASE remember that what I describe in these pages is the process that I was going through then – three weeks ago – it was a beautiful process that needed to happen exactly as it did.
Today, the healing is complete, and unconditional love abounds. All is well and healed in our friendship.
Nuclear Meltdown
My perimeter fences are thirty-feet tall, made of solid stainless steel – nothing, not anyone, will tear down my walls of isolation. My writing today IS going to happen!
Just as I am peeling my first potato, Sharon wanders up the steps and positions herself at my screen door.
“Brenda,” Sharon asks with puppy dog eyes. “Do you mind if I cook myself some toast while I wait for Sandra? …. And could I use some of your butter?”
“Sure, come on in … just a little bit of butter.” I respond coldly as I invite Sharon to enter. I try extremely hard to be polite and loving – but emotions inside are screaming for defensive action – to stop this unwanted space invasion before it dominates my next hour.
“What are you making Brend?” Sharon asks with curiosity.
“I’m rushing to cook myself some quick mashed potatoes,” I respond with an unexpected emphasis on the word myself, “so that I can hurry into my room, isolate myself, and begin a long afternoon of writing.”
I feel a twinge of guilt that I do not offer to cook a few extra potatoes for Sharon, but I suppress the guilt and stand firm in my resistance. I justify my attitude by reminding myself that I am in a hurry, and that I have already made it quite clear that I want to be alone this afternoon.
I continue putting down firm boundaries, determined to keep my walls high and strong – but my underlying energy is reeking with negativity, defensiveness, and feelings of resentment. Not only am I resenting Sharon for pushing her way across the boundaries of my protected space, but in my mind I am also beginning to blame Sandra for inviting Sharon over when Sandra knows that I desperately need some time alone.
I completely forget that Sharon literally feels other peoples’ emotions. It is impossible for me to hide my negative emotional energy from her.
The next twenty minutes are mostly silent as Sharon and I stumble around like invisible elephants in the same room. We occasionally speak a word or two, but such communication is awkward. I offer her some cinnamon and honey for her toast … but my heart is not behind the offer … I am simply trying to be polite.
As I begin to mash my now-cooked potatoes, Sandra returns home – just in time to witness a very difficult situation begin to unfold – or should I say explode?
“Brenda,” Sharon boldly interrupts. “You are making me feel very uncomfortable by the way you are treating me.”
“I’m sorry Sharon,” I try to respond with love, “But I’m simply trying to maintain some boundaries so that I can have some alone time this afternoon. I have very politely told you that I need to be alone.”
“But you’re doing it all wrong …..” Sharon begins to lecture me.
Sandra just stands back, refusing to get in the middle of anything. I try to defend myself, but Sharon has her mind made up and she completely blocks any of my attempts to defend myself.
After about ten minutes of very awkward, loving-but-harsh conversation, I finally excuse myself.
“This conversation is going nowhere.” I interject. “I love you, but I don’t agree with you, and I just want to have some alone time to go write. That is exactly what I am going to go do.”
I walk into my room, lock my door, and sit on my bed. First I begin to fume, then I invite myself to a pity party, next I cry for a few minutes, and finally I simply curl up on my bed in shock and anger.
For ten minutes I sit and pout while my laptop remains unopened. I know that writing from this emotional frame of mind will be literally impossible.
As I remain curled up on my bed, ego is raging, demanding that I lash out further in my defense, justifying my anger and victimization. Ego and pride have been dominating my feelings for thirty minutes now.
As I recognize this fact, I temporarily set ego aside and ponder a few of my favorite “A Course In Miracles” workbook lesson quotes.
“I am never upset for the reason I think,” Is one of my favorites. Then I ask myself, “Would you rather be right or would you rather be happy?”
I know that I am not really angry at Sharon. I am actually angry at myself for my awkward behavior. Many of the things that Sharon expressed in frustration are true. And of course I would rather be humble and happy instead of proud and stubborn.
I ponder Sharon’s accusation about me not being socially appropriate, and about me not giving off a good energy to make her feel welcome in my home, etc…
“This is not about Sharon,” I tell myself. “It is about me and my projections. I need to apologize to her. I need to humble myself and to use this as a growth lesson.”
Heartfelt Apology
With humility and sadness in my heart, I open my bedroom door and walk slowly out onto the patio where Sandra and Sharon are seated. Standing in front of Sharon, I begin to open my mouth.
“Please, I don’t want you to say anything. Please, please just listen and let me talk. I desperately need to be heard without being interrupted.”
“You’re probably right about me.” I begin to cry as my vulnerability pours forth. “For most of my entire life I have felt like a social misfit. I never knew what it meant to have a friend until my mid thirties, and I didn’t have my first real “normal” friend until about ten years ago.”
“I have struggled with social phobias throughout my whole life.” I continue. “I don’t have a lot of social skills when it comes to entertaining others. Feelings of being socially defective continue to push their claws into my daily interactions with others.”
“I was not trying to be offensive and rude with you.” I add. “I recognize that my energy was very defensive and stand-offish – but my intentions were pure and genuine. I was simply trying to protect my boundaries. I love you, but I desperately need some alone time to write.”
Then I lovingly point out to Sharon that she has a very strong personality, and that she has a recent history of overstepping peoples’ attempts to establish boundaries with her.
I feel extremely empowered by the words as they pass from my lips. I am proud of myself for having the courage to lovingly speak my truth.
Sharon listens quietly, but as soon as I finish my speech, she begins to engage me in another pointless debate about social proprieties.
“Brenda,” Sharon tells me lovingly, “If I needed my space and someone came to my home, I would invite them in, offer them something to drink, show them where my television and DVDs are, offer them whatever is in my fridge … and then I would simply walk away, go to my room and close my door.”
“That is what you should have done with me.” Sharon adds.
“I could never do that.” I respond with shock and protest. “That would be so incredibly rude to offer someone hospitality and to then simply walk away and abandon them in my own home.”
The conversation begins to hit a brick wall as Sharon continues to banter with me in ways that I do not wish to engage. Finally, as I am nearly up to my neck in frustration, a few clever words pop into my head.
“Sharon,” I say with a smile and a genuine giggle, “I am so glad you are here. The stereo and my IPOD are in there on the table. Please feel free to help yourself to anything that you can find in the fridge. I love you, and I am going to go into my room now to do some writing.”
I bend over to give Sharon a genuine little hug and kiss on the cheek as I notice that Sandra sends me a loving wink.
As I return to my room, my emotions are raw and my state of spiritual centering is virtually nonexistent. I know intuitively that I will not be writing a single word for the rest of the day.
Swimming in the Muck
For the next hour I feel like a prisoner in my own room.
I want to go sit in nature – to work on centering myself – but cannot bring myself to walk out of my room. I feel incapable of slipping past Sandra and Sharon without bursting into tears, and I simply do not want to publicly expose more of my emotional vulnerability at this time.
I want to let myself cry and engage in some therapeutic emotional cleansing – but I fear that Sandra and Sharon will hear me and I don’t want to create more drama.
So I sit and pout, stuck in ego – doing absolutely nothing except to feel the pain of someone who is beginning to hate herself – to hate her social clumsiness and stumbling – to feel helpless and alone.
I try to cheer myself up by repeating my mission statement. “I am a beautiful and courageous divine daughter of God, overflowing with unconditional love and blah blah blah.”
Ego simply laughs at the ridiculous words, stabbing me in the heart as she skillfully makes me feel tiny and lost – like an ugly hypocrite.
I try to remain the observer of my private little pity party, but seem to be quite attached to the woe-is-me feeling that is pulsing through my veins.
Finally I decide that I will go for a walk anyway. I open my door and step into the kitchen. There is no sign of Sandra or Sharon anywhere. Instead I find a short note.
“Brend, Gone to eat sushi with Tzuri and Sharon. I love you … and I’m proud of you J. (Heart) Sandra XX. PS: help yourself to a cookie if you want!”
The note partially cheers me up. “Why is Sandra proud of me?” I ponder. I too am proud that I found the courage to go apologize and to lovingly speak my truth – but I behaved like a complete jerk … or did I?”
I turn the paper over and write a short response. “Sandra – Gone for a walk out toward Tzununá … should be back before dark. I love you too … Brenda.”
I am still feeling quite down on myself as I head out. Rather than hiking to Tzununá, I simply walk down to the lake , stopping at a little two story building by a dock that is just a hundred yards beyond Keith’s home.
Beautiful lake views, towering volcanoes, and blue skies do nothing to cheer me up. My emotions are still stuck in the muck. I feel helplessly trapped by my own inability to deal with the intensity of my bottled-up emotions.
An hour later, in total surrender and frustration, I walk slowly home, stopping first at a small store to purchase refreshments for my ongoing pity party – four ice cream bars – all for me.
A few minutes later, after devouring two of my tasty treats, I run downstairs to buy vegetables for dinner. Who should I bump into on the path but Keith, carrying a large pack filled with shopping goodies that he had purchased on his daytrip to Panajachel.
“Hey Brenda, there’s music tonight at ‘Fe’”, Keith tells me with a smile.
“I’m just not in a social mood today.” I blurt out – before giving him the short story of my poor-me pity-party struggles. I feel embarrassed as I briefly share my struggle with Keith. I know it is nothing – I know I will be OK – I simply need to be alone and give myself some time to heal.
The Quest for Peace
Wednesday morning I awaken with the feeling that I must have spent the evening in a hot sizzling emotional frying pan. I fear that a quick look in the mirror might reveal the face of a frightening zombie. I feel as if I have not slept well for years.
A quick heart-to-heart discussion with Sandra makes me feel much better as pent-up emotions finally begin to release in the form of tears flowing lightly down my cheeks. I ask if she could possibly assist me later on – could she be a “stand-in” actress in a few experiential psycho-drama therapy techniques that I know will help me to get my suppressed emotions up and out – techniques that will help me turn my exhaustion and pain into love and peace.
Sandra lovingly volunteers to help me in any way she can. I look forward to her assistance, but hope that it will no longer be necessary by evening.
Day three of our Mer-Ka-Ba meditation is as beautiful as ever. I love the practice and am floating in the clouds during the meditation – yet my physical body remains in a completely unsettled state. I am disconnected from my source – still feeling discouraged, depressed, and downright confused.
“If anyone wants to do a practice crystal healing session this afternoon,” I begin to ask, “I would love to be your subject. I could really use some additional grounding.”
Everyone already has plans.
Nadia soon speaks up. “Brenda, I would be glad to do a crystal session on you later this afternoon.”
By the time Nadia is finished working her crystal magic on me, I feel like a new woman. Peace has returned to my soul, joy has returned to my face, and love has returned to my heart – but I am still so physically exhausted that I again go to bed early for the fourth night in a row.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. My heart is indeed filled with gratitude – but my body is still desperate for rest.
Flash Forward
It is now Monday evening, December 13. As I look back on these excruciatingly difficult few days of my journey, I am slightly embarrassed about even hitting the “publish” button. I am not proud of the deep level of emotional disconnect that I reached during those three days leading up to Thanksgiving – but at the same time, those struggle-filled days were indeed a major part of my growth path – an important part of a story that must be told with love and genuineness.
As my marathon of writing continues to bring healing clarity, I now find it quite easy to recognize that my state of emotional disconnect was a combination of several things.
First, I had just finished passing through some amazing and deep emotional processing, releasing huge amounts of past emotional density. As a result, I began the week feeling exhausted, both physically and emotionally.
Second, I had not written in my blog for sixteen days. My bottled-up inner passions were screaming for meaningful creative release. The pressure was building on a daily basis.
Third, Sharon and I did not yet realize it, but we were beginning to engage in an amazing healing dance – a dance which needed to unfold exactly as it did – a dance for which I will always be eternally grateful. I promise to explain later.
In retrospect, I now recognize that these three days of “low energies” were a critical setup which eventually contributed in a major way to my present-day renewed passion – a passion to write, write, write, like I have never written before.
I am truly grateful for both the struggles and the joyful triumphs. Powerful growth has blessed my life as a result of each. But one thing is now more clear than ever. Suppression of my creative passions is what triggers growth to come via struggle.
I would rather choose joyful growth through embracing my passions. That seems to be a lot more fun.
Copyright © 2010 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved
can’t wait to read more… beautiful “old soul”, wonderful friend…