Its become abundantly clear to me over several years that most (if not all) health challenges have their root at the level where the body thinks it is divided into two parts, classically referred to as the left and right hemispheres of the brain although, really, this divisiveness goes much deeper, as discussed in my last post (Union - at a cellular level). However, the brain is a very good place to start when it comes to healing that rift, so how do we do that? For a few years now, and with ever more attention paid by the extremely fascinated "me" that is stood back watching, my healing-urges have attempted to pull me towards activities that work by bridging the left and right hemispheres, enhancing their most fluid attempts at collaboration, so I thought I would share what a few of those practices are...which happen to include some of the most appealing activities in our human experience, from laughter to dancing to creating and more - read on:
The symptoms known only to me, that are my only “evidence” of fibromyagia, occur whenever they choose, eluding and scrambling every kind of predictor that I've tried to throw at them like an expert encryption device. Their arrival is like a seeping mist, weaving around my ankles, rising like the flick of a torch flame up the spine, enveloping me so quickly in widespread pain that I’m taken off-guard, pulled down and deep so fast that its like being bundled into sack and stolen from my own life for just as long as it desires to take me hostage. Over the years, I've followed the growing instinct to vocalise what I experience in my body in order to give it the ransom that it wants….its voice; and not in a way that feels like I am being forced but, rather, loving towards this thing, recognising what feels most abandoned about it. This thing has remained mute for far too long…I sense that above all things…and whilst Ive come to recognise the thin line between “voice” and throwing wood on its bonfire, I know that helping it to find its edges, its form, its expression is what this thing most asks of me in a way that feels like divine collaboration. To suppress it is to perpetuate its wound, to become complicit in its harms, like those who avert eyes or say nothing when an abuse is taking place. I need to see it, track it, hear its subtle intonations, notice its difficult patterns, it complexities, those things it reacts most to; to strive to make sense of what struggles to know itself without this interface of ME as its platform of both experience and expression. There’s no doubt in my mind, it's the yin coming in - this is the feminine arriving on a wave - and she will be mute and formless no more; not through me and those like me who are sensing her arrival as a visceral thing.Yet her real power moment is when her foreign (so things have been made to seem...) wave gets to meet the yang sat on his porch keeping guard over his well-mown turf; its that interplay of two impulses that plays out in the body and they both have something huge to gain from the dialogue.