The year turned, and already this one doesn’t feel so new anymore, remarkable though it is that it is called “2012”. Time does not move in a steady metronome’s beat now, if ever it did so. The first of January came and went, but the excitement that I anticipate accompanying the turning of the year seemed to elude me. Now I find myself starting instead to anticipate the approaching Chinese New Year, year of the water dragon, which is ushered in on January 23. Is this a gift of having taken the Tao into my bones? Has observing the balance of flow and control cycles, working with students and clients to help them align with these rhythms, shifted my own orientation so that my blood sings in tune with a deeper rhythm?
Having agreed to submit a blog to “Making Energy Medicine Our Own”, in my mind I’ve wondered how I will link my thoughts about the advent of 2012 and Donna Eden’s Energy Medicine. As I reflect on the slow pace at which I have approached this task, I begin to understand how closely that pace matches the rhythm of water. I am inspired to begin, I suppose, in synchronicity with the fact that today the temperature in Boston finally dipped into single digits. It’s also the first time all season that the temperature has been below the January average. In sharp contrast to record breaking snow depth last year, we’ve been enjoying remarkably warm days, with temperatures often reaching 50 in the last three months. My skin enjoys the warmth of the sun; yet the marrow of my bones reminds me that something is 'off' with the Earth’s natural rhythm.
I imagine encouraging Earth to hug her Spleen, flush and strengthen it, so she can make a smoother and more deliberate transition into winter. As I connect heaven and earth with my EEM class, I imagine the silhouettes of deciduous trees that have finally shed their leaves stretching their branch-arms up toward the sky to stretch and make more space for the movement of seasons.
Where am I headed this year? I notice the question solicits memories as if from a secret repository, tracing moments and sequences provided on this exquisite journey. Just today someone commented, “How do you know so much?” He was referring to the ease with which I refer to connections between organs, chakras and meridians, colors, foods, seasons, emotions, locations of discomfort and ways to address them.
His question sparks a burst of contradictory emotions. At first it amuses me. It never occurs to me that I have amassed an impressive amount of knowledge. It all fits so well together, and seems so natural. Then I almost feel apologetic. How did I get to be so privileged to encounter this understanding while others don’t even know that there is something they have been deprived of? A twinge of sympathy follows, seasoned with a slight embarrassment. Below the surface dances a feeling of sadness. I mourn the loss the West (for lack of a better term) incurs as it deprives itself of dipping into this reservoir of understanding.
So often I’m aware of my utter frustration at the persuasive power of the prevailing medical mind-set. Friends or neighbors, dramatically ill with cancer, are so swallowed by existing limiting parameters that they are unable to begin to imagine the existence of other maps that could lead them toward vibrant well-being. The fear that pervades this world is palpable, more contagious than swine flu, fanned constantly by media, rhetoric, and embedded beliefs.
On the one hand, I’ve been learning about these correspondences formally and officially for close to thirty years, enough so it has become second nature. That by itself is a bit of a shock. It also can startle me to realize that neither “studying” nor “learning” seem as appropriate to describe the understanding that I am so keen to share. “Absorb” is a better choice. The way these rhythms permeate all aspects of the life I observe around me is so intrinsic and so profound that it is easy to forget that it has been a unique privilege to be exposed to this wisdom, and few have yet to share it.
I notice that the theme of the year just completed, has been integration. More than any time that preceded this, I’ve been taking the wisdom I’ve been exposed to in various contexts to a much deeper place within. Themes reveal themselves that developed over my lifetime. As I’ve been able to bring spleen and triple warmer more frequently into balance, that enhanced spleen energy has played a greater role, supporting this integration and preparing me for further transitions I can envision, though I cannot yet see them.
When I think of the very specific details we focused on in the Practitioners’ Training Course, I think of much of that work as a bridge between working on the physical plane, and becoming a metaphysician. My first exposure to the Tao was through the Universal Healing Tao. The meditations were called “internal alchemy.” Now I find myself enhancing that repertoire, working directly with the energy flows, spinning chakras, tracing meridians, control and flow cycles, as an internal meditative practice.
My classes are my research laboratory. I make discoveries there: so many imbalances can be addressed with just one or two exercises. I have yet to meet the student or client who didn’t need to strengthen their aura and ground their energy. Those two concepts, combined with calming triple warmer and “never missing an opportunity to energize spleen” seem to address so many issues all at once. We learn how strong the morphic field’s influence is on our collective energies. It turns out much is accomplished with intention yet if that piece is missing the exercises may have no influence on vital energies at all.
These observations form the backdrop of a profound decision, not so much a decision “made” as an opening to an inevitable transition. Rather than a life in which I have tools I can use, share, teach, and apply, I set my intention to live from the place that these tools have transported me. It’s not an easy path to chart. It’s a path of being, and being in the flow. It feels like having made a vow. Prince Charming is the magical cosmos. This journey has transported me a long distance from the secular materialist belief system in which I was raised. It can be a lonely place at times. Not many others join me here. And I cannot always meet myself in this place, yet. The shift has been one of intending to fully live what I know, to hold back no longer, to recognize and treat fear whenever and wherever it surfaces. And to trust that everything I might want will follow from my willingness to uphold and continuously return to the gift that vow is waiting to bestow.
A deep place within sighs and whispers: “Welcome. We’ve been waiting here for you for a long time!”