I was preparing for a burn. Not something I had ever independently initiated on my own, but certain things were asking to be freed.  To become something else through an offering only the Earth herself would know what to do with.  Life got quiet enough for a moment that my proclivity toward ritual and symbolism got to unfurl itself like a cramped passenger on a jitney just longing to be home.  That pulse of honoring started to increase its tempo and my body, heart, and spirit stepped right in time to its rhythm – eyes closed, but in tune.  The mark of time was calling. The looking back.  And the daring to let go – to let burn to make way for what is to come.  For who is to come.  The woman I have been painfully, wildly, fiercely becoming…at times in a soft hopeful whisper – at others, a deafening lament, and still others with singed seams bursting with a fire that had nowhere to go but up and out. Onward, and earthward. 

I have painstakingly gotten to know all the ins and outs of her grooves.  And in that courtship, more times than I can count, I found myself capsized in fear and despair.  The shrapnel and splinters – all that she has bravely allowed herself to to look at and feel, without averting her eyes or shielding her body.  Her sweet sweet body, beaten to a pulp these past 5 years, as she ventured even further into the dark – wounds unearthed, turned over, and exposed.  Some still pink and tender – others, unrecognizable in their blackness.  But in her bravery, they were broken free from their leadened shell – a shell that had hardened many times over, in attempts to muffle the sound of their whispering plea.  For even then, she had no idea what they were asking for – no idea what would come of her uprooting, but for a quiet trust that it needed to happen.  That her life, actually, depended on it.  So they kept whispering, if not only to reveal herself to herself so their existence could be validated. 

I have been a trauma & embodiment therapist for over 20 years working with some of the most deeply traumatized people and communities – people and communities who have endured and survived some of the worst acts of human brutality – and without a doubt, some of the strongest bravest people I have ever met.  Least of all, my own Ancestors (miigwech for calling to me, grandmothers and grandfathers – I’m so glad I was listening).  And the one thing I can say with such personal and professional conviction is that all people truly want and need is to be seen, known, and understood – ideally with compassion and acceptance.  And when I look back at all the wounded parts of myself I finally built a relationship to and with these past 5 years – there has always only ever been one person who could see those wounded parts in the ways they needed to be seen and acknowledged.  Just one.  The one that prepared for that burn on Beltane Eve, “Walpurgis Night,” she later learned. The night before her birthday and this milestone year that needed careful honoring, and Sacred Seeing.  Only in the way that she has learned to truly see herself.  I’m ready for you, 45. I’m ready.