For some time I have avoided the container of an intimate relationship. I needed to fully embrace parts of myself that I could only develop alone. Somewhere I knew that such a container would bring new and big challenges. And it did. When we came together we felt that our relationship was not only for the two of us but for a wider healing too. It felt exciting… but also scary.
In the summer we visited our ancestral land of Poland and stayed at a self-development centre. There we opened a conversation about leading a relational workshop together for men and women. Deep within our hearts was a longing to witness and honour each others’ wounds and glory.
Little did we know what we were inviting.
On the way home we found ourselves driving deep into a virgin forest of Poland, loosing our way until we arrived at a most amazing lake. It was a fairytale setting. The lake was completely smooth, perfectly reflecting the beauty of the forest that encompassed it and the expanse of the sky above. Big blue dragonflies swooped low, occasional fish jumped. There was not a soul in sight and the only sound to be heard was a bird song.
Promptly we dropped our clothes and dived into the lake. Millions of rainbow droplets splashed around us and we knew we were given a precious gift, a return to Eden. Sitting naked on a jetty, in awe of beauty, we felt only love and gratitude. This was heaven and I found myself wishing that we could bring this to our workshop about masculine and feminine, to bring all of us back to the Garden.
All this sensuous beauty drew us towards each other. We were close, innocent and playful. I knew he wanted to make love. And I knew I didn’t. Suddenly the simplicity was clouded. I didn’t know how to draw my boundaries clearly and I didn’t feel heard when I tried to. I was confused as to what was expected of me.
From the bliss of heaven I fell into the darkness of hell. I saw my lover as a predator concerned only with his satisfaction, ready to advance regardless of my readiness. I shut down hard and fast.
Not long after we left the lake. In the following hours we experienced an unfolding of wounding that revealed itself layer by layer. I felt a burning rage in my veins, a rage about rape and violation that didn’t even happen to “me”. And yet it felt like it did. I remembered all the ways I was made to have sex when I wasn’t sure I wanted to and the ways my body was objectified; all the ways the bodies of my sisters and mothers were plundered. I wanted my rage to be known and to be received.
We agreed to create a sacred space for this feeling to be met in a container of our relationship, understanding that we have just stumbled on a massive collective wound.
We located an opening in a forest and invoked a sacred space with protection. My partner invited me to physicalise my feelings.
I wanted to but initially all I could feel was an invisible wall telling me: “don’t you dare; it’s not safe!”. I felt myself disempowered and mute. He stood in front of me vulnerable, asking me to strike him, to make him feel my pain. And eventually the energy came through me, lashing forward. It lasted but a moment, then an enormous force of love and compassion came over me, and I sobbed. I felt a mother’s heart in me, a heart that only wanted to love. I longed to love and protect him, as well all of creation. That was a beginning of a journey that we are still on. Meeting layers of history in our psyches, the conditioned shapes we have absorbed and moulded into, replaying the scenarios our ancestors initiated and suffered. Each time we wake up in the midst of identification and bring it some love, a little healing is done. It’s not pretty and I find myself critical, judgmental, overly pleasing or numb on numerous occasions. It helps to remember that this is a manifestation of a bigger story that I can only work with a little at a time.
All power and blessings to all of us who engage with personal and collective wounding, who extract the gifts from it and choose to return to love.
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