Over the years, I have been to many, many workshops and retreats for women. By going, my heart longed to find the answers that would make my life more fulfilling—would help me to stop making the same mistakes—would aid in my growth and well-being—make me happier, more prosperous, more adventurous—you each know what I’m talking about. So, it was especially interesting to think that I might have something to offer to women myself. And that is when I knew.
What I’ve learned is that we all have a piece of the puzzle. And that piece of the puzzle is within each of us. We must therefore glean from each other in order to find the pieces to our life’s puzzle so that we can heal. From our healing comes the healing of the planet. Make no mistake, we are the healers of our time. But, we’ve been damaged. Until we find our healing, the world will continue on its course. This is not to put all of the world’s problems on our shoulders, however. It is to put the world inside our heart where it will be safe. We can only do that when we heal. And when we heal, we will mirror for the world what it can become.
The Heal the Healer Project is about finding our heart strength. Love does conquer fear—that paralyzing fear that thwarts our attempts at real life. The paralyzing fear that many of us cover up—it shows up in other ways. How? We have diabetes, heart disease, and are overweight. We are anxious and frustrated and we sometimes take it out on our kids, spouses, friends, strangers—ourselves. We buy and buy and stay busier and busier. We are not truly happy or satisfied. How do I know? I’m complaining, too. I know.
So, what are we going to do about it? Well, the Heal the Healer project is about finding out. Utilizing the skills of professionals and each other (professionals in our own rights), we will develop this program throughout the year. At the end of the year, we will analyze what works, what doesn’t, and where we go from here.
What are we going to do about your stress? Time will tell as we meet, share and grow. Join us. It is your choice. But, it is a good choice, too. By participating in the Heal the Healer project (something we build together), I'm hoping that you'll share with one another your experiences, rituals, and heart-saving techniques. We'll find ourselves as we help other women find themselves. Won’t you add a piece to the puzzle? Contact me for more information at 713-522-9849. Peace.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Empowerment Rituals ...
It's been a tough few years. Each year it seems I lose a little bit more of myself. That's not necessarily a bad thing. I find that losing that part of me that is afraid is good. Losing that part of me that hides things is good. Losing that part of me who would procrastinate is good. Yet, of all the things I've lost, I now know that it takes losing one's self to find something remarkable --- me, after all.
Recently a friend and I decided it was time to renew our broken selves. We decided it should be immediate and that it would begin at sunrise. I spent the night at my office, sleeping on my floor. I thought about what I would do, say to the Universe. And, I took this opportunity to join with a sister who knows my struggles and who has been a faithful friend and confident. And before the dawn, we took our candles, our sage, our ancestors and we held hands, sang songs and ushered in the new day. We literally lost ourselves in the ritual only to find ourselves again.
Immediately it took shape. Immediately it took form. But, I don't remember if I recognized it right away. It's funny about change. It can be overwhelming and powerful. But, more often than not, the subtlety of change can be overlooked or missed. Rituals open portals. These portals are openings to wisdom and life. We are always on the precipice of death, our lives hanging in the balance. And our choice is always one of either choosing life or death. I keep choosing life -- at the end of the day. The moments in between are questionable.
When faced with the struggles of life, some of us have the mettle to survive. Others do little more than survive and some don't survive at all. In the wake of Katrina I'm faced with the question of whether I am my sister's keeper. And I find that in many ways, I've been preparing for this all my life. I just have to know it and act accordingly.
This week I've received emails from angry sisters -- angry from the depths of their souls. They are frustrated and grieving deeply and bitterly. Is it any one thing? No, absolutely not. The tragedy of Katrina. The killing of Frances Newton. The horrible way we confirm a chief justice who doesn't have everyone's best interest at heart. We are angry about the war and the fact that our sons and daughters are dying. And, not just my black sisters (in case you're thinking I've only black sisters). I've talked and cried with all my sister friends, from every ethnicity and class --- each as angry as the next.
I remember the story of Jonah (sorry, I generally like using a woman's story, but this one characerizes what I need to say most). In the story, Jonah is pissed off with God because he felt that God allowed a certain group of people to survive. I can relate. And I think the women of the world today can relate. There's one difference, though. We give birth to the seeming monsters that plague us. We love them and hate them at the same time. But, the hate is not for them, but for the actions. And maybe that's why my losing myself is a good thing. I'm finally losing that part of myself that feels sorry for me and the sorry state of the world. I'm losing myself to a whale of understanding and realizing that we are in the same boat ... one boat, ya'll! And that unless we all work together, we're gonna capsize.
Tonight I sit in my office. I'm still procrastinating a little bit because I know that when I set out on my true path, world look out! A change is gonna come. See, right after the ritual it seems like everything came to a head. Like a ripe pimple, the ritual took out the pus and dirt and while I can see the scab, it is healing. I am healing. That day that things came to a head, I took a good look and guess what I did? I leaped anyway.
I'm dancing now in my heart. I'm dancing in my soul. My creativity is at an all time high and its good, scary, fun and ever changing. I'm gonna have a little fun and dance with the Creator on those occasions that I find myself losing the self. And I'm going to enjoy rituals with my sisters and with myself on a regular basis. It's sisterhood survival 101.
I didn't tell you what happened when it all came to a head, did I? The next morning I woke -- not with a headache or a dullness as in times before. No, instead I was refreshed and imbued with a new outlook. And while I didn't know it the day before, I knew today was my day. At last, what was lost was now found.
Peace
Recently a friend and I decided it was time to renew our broken selves. We decided it should be immediate and that it would begin at sunrise. I spent the night at my office, sleeping on my floor. I thought about what I would do, say to the Universe. And, I took this opportunity to join with a sister who knows my struggles and who has been a faithful friend and confident. And before the dawn, we took our candles, our sage, our ancestors and we held hands, sang songs and ushered in the new day. We literally lost ourselves in the ritual only to find ourselves again.
Immediately it took shape. Immediately it took form. But, I don't remember if I recognized it right away. It's funny about change. It can be overwhelming and powerful. But, more often than not, the subtlety of change can be overlooked or missed. Rituals open portals. These portals are openings to wisdom and life. We are always on the precipice of death, our lives hanging in the balance. And our choice is always one of either choosing life or death. I keep choosing life -- at the end of the day. The moments in between are questionable.
When faced with the struggles of life, some of us have the mettle to survive. Others do little more than survive and some don't survive at all. In the wake of Katrina I'm faced with the question of whether I am my sister's keeper. And I find that in many ways, I've been preparing for this all my life. I just have to know it and act accordingly.
This week I've received emails from angry sisters -- angry from the depths of their souls. They are frustrated and grieving deeply and bitterly. Is it any one thing? No, absolutely not. The tragedy of Katrina. The killing of Frances Newton. The horrible way we confirm a chief justice who doesn't have everyone's best interest at heart. We are angry about the war and the fact that our sons and daughters are dying. And, not just my black sisters (in case you're thinking I've only black sisters). I've talked and cried with all my sister friends, from every ethnicity and class --- each as angry as the next.
I remember the story of Jonah (sorry, I generally like using a woman's story, but this one characerizes what I need to say most). In the story, Jonah is pissed off with God because he felt that God allowed a certain group of people to survive. I can relate. And I think the women of the world today can relate. There's one difference, though. We give birth to the seeming monsters that plague us. We love them and hate them at the same time. But, the hate is not for them, but for the actions. And maybe that's why my losing myself is a good thing. I'm finally losing that part of myself that feels sorry for me and the sorry state of the world. I'm losing myself to a whale of understanding and realizing that we are in the same boat ... one boat, ya'll! And that unless we all work together, we're gonna capsize.
Tonight I sit in my office. I'm still procrastinating a little bit because I know that when I set out on my true path, world look out! A change is gonna come. See, right after the ritual it seems like everything came to a head. Like a ripe pimple, the ritual took out the pus and dirt and while I can see the scab, it is healing. I am healing. That day that things came to a head, I took a good look and guess what I did? I leaped anyway.
I'm dancing now in my heart. I'm dancing in my soul. My creativity is at an all time high and its good, scary, fun and ever changing. I'm gonna have a little fun and dance with the Creator on those occasions that I find myself losing the self. And I'm going to enjoy rituals with my sisters and with myself on a regular basis. It's sisterhood survival 101.
I didn't tell you what happened when it all came to a head, did I? The next morning I woke -- not with a headache or a dullness as in times before. No, instead I was refreshed and imbued with a new outlook. And while I didn't know it the day before, I knew today was my day. At last, what was lost was now found.
Peace
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Sisterhood ...
The battle of the sexes rages on and today is my birthday. I realize that I have reached yet another milestone, but why now do I still have doubts? Why do I still second-guess myself? Why still?
If it were not for my sisters, I don't think I would have survived. We have been there for each other in ways that marvel the senses. I look back at my life and realize that at some of the hardest forks in the road, there were the women. First, my grandmother and mother. Miss Elaine brought me into this world through my mother's thighs, soothing both her babies at the same time. I don't remember the "Push, Savantha" in reality, but in heart, I see my grandmother urging my mother to give me life. I know that my grandmother caught me in loving arms, wiped and cleaned me and heard my first cry. I know that she and my mother counted every toe and finger and that I was loved from the moment I entered this world.
Countless time I remember the women. I can name them all. I can see them all. From aunts and older cousins to my baby cousin Mary Adell, these were my beginnings. Later, there were the teachers and family friends, Miss Bessie and Mrs. Sharp in New Mexico where schooling began. Individuals who taught me beauty and language. I owe them both.
On and on, even now, the sisterhood has sustained me. While there have been times when we haven't been nice to one another, but for the most part, if it were not for the women in my life, I could not have survived cancer, my granddaughter's death, my mother's death, or the current trials of life and love.
It is not to say that men are not important. They are. They are part of this earth's core, masculine and strong, but theirs is not the only strength. We are strong, sisters, and this is our opportunity to get stronger because we birth the world and our children depend on us. It is therefore imperative that we depend on each other.
More to come, but share your thoughts. Let me know what sisterhood means to you.
Namaste'
P.K.
If it were not for my sisters, I don't think I would have survived. We have been there for each other in ways that marvel the senses. I look back at my life and realize that at some of the hardest forks in the road, there were the women. First, my grandmother and mother. Miss Elaine brought me into this world through my mother's thighs, soothing both her babies at the same time. I don't remember the "Push, Savantha" in reality, but in heart, I see my grandmother urging my mother to give me life. I know that my grandmother caught me in loving arms, wiped and cleaned me and heard my first cry. I know that she and my mother counted every toe and finger and that I was loved from the moment I entered this world.
Countless time I remember the women. I can name them all. I can see them all. From aunts and older cousins to my baby cousin Mary Adell, these were my beginnings. Later, there were the teachers and family friends, Miss Bessie and Mrs. Sharp in New Mexico where schooling began. Individuals who taught me beauty and language. I owe them both.
On and on, even now, the sisterhood has sustained me. While there have been times when we haven't been nice to one another, but for the most part, if it were not for the women in my life, I could not have survived cancer, my granddaughter's death, my mother's death, or the current trials of life and love.
It is not to say that men are not important. They are. They are part of this earth's core, masculine and strong, but theirs is not the only strength. We are strong, sisters, and this is our opportunity to get stronger because we birth the world and our children depend on us. It is therefore imperative that we depend on each other.
More to come, but share your thoughts. Let me know what sisterhood means to you.
Namaste'
P.K.
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