Brenda's Bicycles

(Note, this is part two of what will likely be at least six parts. In this writing, I share my experiences from my first integration period at the “Temple of the Way of Light”. More parts will follow …)

Thursday, January 30, 2014 is a beautiful and energizing day. I still radiate from a beautiful run of seven ayahuasca ceremonies in twelve days – yet I am eager for some rest and time to process what I have experienced.

Today is the first day after finishing my initial workshop at the Temple of the Way of Light. It is the first of four “days off” until my official twelve-day integration period starts on February 3. And it is also a day where two of my workshop group members decide to depart. Rather than continue with integration, they are drawn to head off in different directions. But I will not leave, nor will I wait for the “official” schedule to begin my integration. I dive in.

Later that afternoon, I participate in a beautiful women’s circle – one organized by a staff member. As the sharing in the circle progresses, I find myself unexpectedly speaking from the heart, doing so with tears flowing down my cheeks.

“Nearly five years ago, when I started traveling, I was so excited,” I begin my words. “But at the same time, I had a deep gnawing sense of inner doom and gloom – inner knowing that if something major doesn’t shift or heal in my life, that I would eventually sabotage myself, and crash and burn. I knew I had to heal, and that if I didn’t, I was going to fail in my quest.”

“But now, after my first workshop, I feel different,” I continue sharing through muffled tears. “That ominous feeling of eventual failure and self-sabotage is gone … haunting me no more. I feel so much hope and positive emotion toward the future.”

I love the intimate sharing of this group of beautiful women … and the magical energy I am now feeling in my life.

But it seems that “growth” triggers have already been arranged to give me focus for more healing.

A Trigger Setup

Early Friday morning, I can only say, “Wow, what a journey!” as I spend an hour of meditation with magical energy blissfully vibrating in my belly and chest – and I have just begun this journey.

But my blissful peace is soon rattled in the afternoon when I hear other sounds banging around in my tambo (housing building).

I have been excited all day, because my immediate neighbor is one of those who chose to leave early, and the person at the other end of our building just finished his last month here. For the first time in two weeks, I have the whole tambo to myself, in beautiful peaceful silence. I have so been looking forward to having full privacy for four days (until the next workshop begins), giving me a chance to make a little noise … and giving me the peace of not hearing the noise of others. In fact, ego is quite attached to that prospect.

So when I hear the noises, I step outside to investigate. Someone is moving around in the room on the other end of the building, and I calmly call out to ask them who they are.

“It is Peter,” he responds (not his real name and/or gender). “Come on in.”

I walk in and briefly meet him. He is from the work exchange program, and will be participating in the next workshop that begins on February 3. He tells me that there is a lot of drama up in the housing where he is at, and that he is staking out space, hoping that management will give it to him during his workshop.

I feel terrible and selfish, but I gently explain how I have been looking forward to the privacy of having the building to myself, and that it is not scheduled to be filled until the next workshop actually starts – and I ask him to please not occupy the space until it is officially given to him. He reluctantly agrees.

I do not know it yet, but this brief exchange will, over the next month or so, gradually evolve into what will be deep mutual triggering for both of us. I feel bad, wondering if I am being rude and cruel, but also feel quite peaceful for expressing and making my needs known – something I have rarely done in my life.

Dealing With Obsession

Still enjoying my newly established privacy and silence, I begin the first day of February by drinking chocolate before reading, and meditating.

In the midst of this bliss, another odd trigger also surfaces. Every night, the security guard puts one lantern on the porch of each building and restroom in the complex, plus numerous lanterns in the dining hall. But since the workshop ended two days ago, a new guard has taken over the duty, and my building is being skipped and/or the fuel in the lantern is not being refilled and the flame goes out in the early evening.

It can be quite dark in the jungle at night, and I find great comfort in having a light on the porch – a glow that radiates up to the roof and reflects gently back down into my room – like a glowing night light. For whatever reason, I developed a slight fear of the dark after one of my earlier ayahuasca ceremonies in Iquitos – a ceremony where I was sleeping all alone in a very dark maloca, still feeling the dizzying effects of the medicine.

It seems I have another attachment rapidly forming – one that will also prove to trigger great healing over the many weeks and months to come.

I try to disengage and just “let things be the way they are,” but my mind is obsessed with the issue. “I want my lantern, and they (staff) should do it properly.” The obsession is quite insane, and will not go away.

I am shocked by how much this bothers me, but rather than fight the obsession, I decide to send love to the part of “me” that is so obsessed. I clearly understand that this is bringing up something from the past – perhaps something related to not having my needs met, and/or feeling ignored by those who should be supporting me.

Distractions And Anticipations

And the silliness just continues on Sunday, February 2, when my little battery-powered alarm clock (one I purchased last November) stops working properly. It seems that the hour hand has come loose and is not moving as expected.

When I show up for breakfast at 9:00 a.m., I can only giggle with shock when I learn that it is really 11:00 a.m., and that there is a cold plate waiting for me on the table.

Luckily, I am able to fix the clock using some eyeglass screwdrivers that I purchased in Belize, more than four years ago.

But even with all of these silly distractions and developing triggers, I manage to spend the four days of the break catching up on sleep, meditating, reading, and socializing – feeling quite good about starting the twelve days of integration tomorrow – and eagerly anticipating the new group of people who will make up the new workshop that is also beginning.

Ongoing Triggers

I humbly approach Peter in the afternoon to see what is happening. He tells me that management denied his request for the room in my building, because it was already assigned to a new person. In an attempt to be generous and to make things right, I tell Peter that the other room (the one right next to me) is also empty, and it is likely not assigned to anyone because the woman occupying it had left early. I suggest to Peter that he ask about that room.

At dinner time, the highlight of this Sunday is when another young man tells me about the huge difference he can see in me after my first workshop.

“You walk lighter and seem to have let go of a huge burden,” he tells me.

Later, with a glow in my step, I carry a lantern from the dining hall back to my front porch. I really want that nightlight.

Suddenly, just after I go to bed, I hear banging and loud noises in the room right next to me. It seems that Peter has gotten permission to occupy that room, and he is loudly moving in at NIGHT, one evening early. I am already regretting my attempt to make things right. I find his behavior to be inconsiderate and quite rude – yet a little bird in my ear makes sure that I understand this is MY issue, not his.

As I meditate in bed, I struggle with the odd onslaught of recent triggers. I make a commitment to myself that I will do everything I can just to be an observer in these next two weeks, and that I will try not to judge or fix things that come up. Instead I will simply watch my feelings and reactions, and look inside – while being gentle with myself and others.

Oh, if it were all so easy.

Flustered Frustration

Monday morning, February 3rd, begins with a near-argument with a member of my group. I tell him that I believe we will have seven new people coming today for the new workshop. He disagrees and insists that there are only four. I begin to debate him, but quickly back down in frustration, choosing not to pursue being right, even though I know that I am.

“Brenda, are you OK?” another member of my group interrupts.

“I think I am,” I look at him with shock, surprised that someone else has observed my flustered frustration.

I realize I am deeply attached to what happened, and I thank my friend for pointing out my energy. I even go so far as to ask him to tell me if he ever sees me go back to this space. Then I return to my room in humility. It is time to meditate.

As I breathe deeply in peaceful silence, I am shocked by the emotional pains that quickly surface to block my heart. I react by sending love to various aspects of me, doing so over and over.

“I love you “me that needs to be right”,” I begin. “I love you “me that expects perfect service and nonstop care from staff, etc.” I love you “me that needs to control”.”

That last one is a biggie. I take another deep breath and go deeper.

Control Issues

I recognize that control is a huge issue for me. As a sensitive empath throughout my life, controlling my environment was crucial to keeping my self energetically safe. Plus, following rules and expecting others to do the same also kept me feeling safe. It was the only way my logical left-brain could fathom trying to fit in and understand the world around me.

To me, not having rules feels like utter chaos, and instills in me a feeling of panic … of being attacked, and not fitting in … causing me to isolate and project onto others, all in an attempt at survival.

“Wow,” I tell myself as I realize how things make so much more sense in my life.

I meditate in this beautiful self-discovery until shortly after noon, when, just as I expected, seven new people arrive to join the new workshop that is about to begin this afternoon. I will not be in their ceremony group, but I will be interacting with many of them in the weeks and months to come.

Magical Introductions

During a large afternoon group introduction meeting, the staff has us do something they didn’t do on my first day … and I never see them do it in future group meetings either.

We are asked to pair up, sitting opposite someone in two circles, one inside the other. We are then asked to use three minutes to explain to the person in front of us “Why am I here?” To my surprise, when the three minutes expires, we are asked to rotate one person to our left and answer the question again … and then again, for a total of three times.

I am delightfully surprised by how my sharing repeatedly evolves, becoming more real and genuine with each iteration.

“I came into this life as a pure, innocent, and divine baby,” I begin my final sharing. “Over 58 years, I have been programmed by conditioning, behaviors, emotional wounds, religious teachings, etc. I am here to liberate and free myself from all of the conditioning that keeps me from being who I really am – from being that pure and innocent being.”

I feel quite emotional as this process concludes. I know that pure self-love and divine-love are key, and that everything else is nothing but a conditioned lie that IS on its way out. Beautiful!

As the meeting adjourns, a refreshing rain suddenly saturates the jungle, shifting the hot sticky humidity into a magical cool wonderland. I really love this place, and I am so grateful for rainy season.

Free And Liberated

Being eager to get a new start, I make a commitment to myself that I will participate in as many integration classes as possible. So when Tuesday morning roles around I begin with an early morning yoga.

Already feeling tired with sore leg muscles, I jump right into a mid-morning dance therapy class, followed by taiji (otherwise known at tai chi) shortly after lunch. Still being a glutton for body aches, I immediately follow that with another hour of qigong.

As I step out of that final class, a huge thunderstorm rocks the skies, cooling off the intensely hot jungle yet again. I literally love how the energy of the lightning excites my soul.

Later that evening, with an aching body in a nice warm bed, I giggle again as yet-another storm, even more intense than the first, drenches the jungle around me. This one is so furious that winds actually blow occasional spray through the back mosquito netting of my room. After rearranging a few precious belongings, I endure what turns out to be a very cold night. It amazes me how variable the weather is here, even near the equator, and close to sea level.

As I rest during the night, I ponder the huge shift I recognized during the dance therapy class today. I have felt so free – feeling none of the old self-consciousness or self-judgment – free to simply be me. In fact, when asked to choose two words to describe my experience, I choose “Free” and “Liberated.”

Calm During The Storm

I am delighted on day three when, after another long day of integration classes, I enjoy a delightful after-dinner conversation with many new friends – lasting right up until 8:00 p.m. when another huge thunderstorm rapidly approaches. I barely make it back to my bedroom before the rain engulfs everything around me.

As the night progresses, I ponder the fact that the new workshop is having their first ayahuasca ceremony tonight. I imagine drinking with them, but instead, slip rapidly into dreamland. I am quite tired, and manage to get a much needed rest.

I don’t know it yet, but deep emotional processing is on its way.

A New Kind Of Storm

Early the next morning, on Thursday, February 6, 2014, I am unprepared for what happens next. As I participate in early morning yoga, engaging in a series of moderately difficult poses (for me anyway), I begin to feel angry and annoyed. The intensity escalates during a warrior pose. Immediately I remember feeling similar emotions back in 2010 while practicing yoga at “Las Piramides del Ka” during my meditation retreats in Guatemala.

“I used to feel quite angry at the teacher for trying to get me to do such painful poses,” I ponder back to those Guatemala days.

But suddenly, I realize that the anger I am feeling is not directed at my teacher today (and really never was). I realize that it is real emotion that has been physically stored in my body (especially in my hips) for decades. In fact, it is the intense hip opening stretches that are triggering the release of a lifetime of bottled up anger and hatred.

Rather than resist such emotions as I have always done in the past, I decide to surrender to them – to allow them to surface with intensity. For the first time in my life, I do not judge such emotions as being “beneath me.”

Old Emotional Agony

I stop participating and instead rest on my yoga mat. I am now feeling the “putrid splendor” of these old emotions. Intuitions whisper that this emotion is primarily from my youth, between the ages of 11 to 18. I am guided to think about how I began to walk pigeon toed at age 11, and how my whole life emotionally collapsed in that period, causing me to stutter, to hunch forward, to hate myself in almost every way.

Continued pondering tells me that what I feel right now is a plethora of angry, annoyed, agitated, betrayed, victimized, protective, defensive, frustrated, hopeless, helpless, confused, conglomeration of survival consciousness – of feeling attacked by life.

Later, I remember an image that first surfaced during a chocolate ceremony on Keith’s porch in Guatemala – an image of me being trapped by a mountain lion, cornered in the back of a shallow cave.

“This emotion is related to all of my self-sabotaging social trauma,” I ponder. “I still often see happy loving people as if they are an angry mountain lion preparing to attack me. Wow!”

Anyway, to make a long story short, tears begin to stream down my cheeks, and I desperately struggle not to get lost in the Pandora’s box of intense emotion that has been opened. During the final half hour, and after class is over, I sit on my mat, sobbing as quietly as possible. I am curious when two other people also remain behind after the yoga, wondering if they stayed to support me. I later learn that they too were experiencing a lot of emotion.

Finally, after imagining myself dancing and giggling with Bobby bear – after fighting the intense resistance toward joy – I manage to balance myself and head back to my room.

Opposite Extremes

By breakfast time, I am doing much better, once again continuing my day with another full schedule of meals and classes.

Later that night, I participate in another women’s circle. One of the staff members has begun to organize them on a weekly basis. This one is quite different than the first.

As I sit listening to the sharing of others, I begin to feel strong emotions of being a “misfit alien.” I feel as if I truly DO belong to this group of women – yet I feel intimidated at the thought of opening my own heart – feeling as if I need to share my “story” to be accepted, and yet I experience terror at the thought of risking possible rejection and exclusion.

The reason for this emotion is that most others are talking about how they don’t fit in, and how they struggle with their own masculine sides, etc.

Finally, after an hour and a half of remaining silent, the facilitator mentions that she wants to hear from the quiet ones (only two of us).

“I AM quiet,” I respond when she looks at me. “I am feeling very emotional tonight.”

Tears begin to stream as I share the emotional beginning of my day during morning yoga, and I discuss my feeling of social unbalance – going from five years of travel and frequent isolation, and now attempting to “do it all” during this new integration period.

“I feel as if I am swinging from one extreme to the other,” I share my emotional exhaustion. “And I wonder if I am listening to my body or just returning to old mental patterns telling me I need to do everything.”

I feel a great deal of love for the women gathered, yet I feel as if I am hiding the real me … hiding behind a mask.

A Circle Of Lions

The group soon disbands and walks up to the soccer field to join with a men’s circle at an already in-progress campfire.

I ponder the confusing dilemma. In front of me I see a group of incredible loving men and women, most all of them far younger than me.

Yet, I observe myself feeling massive social projections onto most all of them. I want to run away. I want to sabotage my participation. I want to judge and dismiss them all. I am deep in my high school patterns – but rather than acting on those patterns, I simply observe.

As campfire songs are song, and as I continually look into the loving hearts around me, I feel the truth. But as I watch my emotional reactions, I clearly see the ongoing desire to judge, project, and sabotage – as if I am in danger and need to hide to protect myself.

“These people are all “angry mountain lions,”” I tell myself as I remember the metaphor from this morning. “Subconsciously, I feel trapped in that shallow cave, and this part of me knows that sooner or later, they WILL pounce on me and destroy me. I need to keep my guard up!”

“Wow,” I ponder with confusion. “This self-observation shocks me.”

At around 9:45 p.m., still just observing, still feeling peaceful-but-confused, I retire to my room, quite proud of myself for NOT running away – for NOT getting lost or identifying with my observations.

But I clearly see that I have huge dominant issues yet to be addressed in my healing.

Trapped Again

Early Friday morning, on day 5 of integration, I again return to 7:00 a.m. yoga. Within ten minutes, a raging vampire (a tiny mosquito) bites me on the upper right arm. The itching is intense and I begin to feel quite agitated.

“I really am bugged by the little things,” I consider the emotion with clarity, seeing this as yet another manifestation of this repressed emotion.

After fifteen minutes of yoga, old emotions again start to release from my hips and other joints. I try to surrender to the emotion, attempting to send love to the pain – but the stronger the emotion becomes, the more difficult I find it to locate love anywhere in my heart.

Instead of continuing, I withdraw from yoga and just sit cross-legged on my mat, meditating into the flow while searching for a loving space. But I get increasingly sucked deeper into the repressed emotion. Soon, I am quietly sobbing, yet again.

As before, the emotion is angry, agitated, annoyed, protective, confused, defensive, hateful, judgmental, lashing out, blaming, frustrated, hopeless, overwhelmed, helpless, resentful, isolating, embarrassed, self-judging, putrid victimization. I am right back, hiding in that shallow cave, feeling trapped by everyone around me.

I am a teenager, lost, alone, isolated, hating life, guarded, threatened, struggling, drowning, desperate, faking, and pretending. My heart is genuine, but I see no way out of my situation – I am unable to understand the confusing world. Everything around me feels like an attack, and no matter what I do, I feel as if I get slammed.

Spiraling Deeper

I ponder a lifetime of seeking approval – a lifetime of “damned if I do, damned if I don’t”. I remember following all the rules in an effort to be liked. The adults loved me, but my peers rejected me for it. I was so confused. I hated myself with a vengeance, and sought validation at every turn, but only found social rejection. At the time, I did not understand how I created my reality, and I was drowning.

As yoga continues, I am again on the edge of sobbing – attempting to muffle the sniffling and tears. Just like yesterday, I cannot find the joy. These emotions overwhelm me. I am shocked by how quicksand-like such emotions can be. For a few minutes, I remember that suicidal “swamp” that overwhelmed me just a year ago.

Soon, I escape the maloca and return to my bedroom, going into deep meditation. I cycle between sobs and attempting to continue my yoga in privacy.

Again, I remember previous metaphors. This emotion feels as if the “dementors” from Harry Potter are attacking me, sucking all joy and life force out of my soul.

Bugged By The Little Things

Determined to face my demons, I drink a full dose of ceremonial-grade cacao just after breakfast. I then tell a kitchen helper that I might not be back for lunch, and ask her to please save a plate for me.

“This is a spiritual hospital,” A couple of my friends reassure me as I share my intentions to isolate and go deep.

After telling my neighbors that I might be sobbing in my room, and reassuring them I will try to be as quiet as possible, I close my door and dive headfirst into that swamp.

For what feels like hours, I cycle between quiet sobbing, whimpering, streaming tears, teeth shaking, coughing, dry heaving, and the occasional smiles and laughter.

“This is CORE!” I ponder with shock as I continue going deeper.

I frequently attempt to bring in light and love, but every time I do, I am taken deeper into the abyss. But I am not getting lost. I trust this process. I feel connected to the light, and do manage to find the occasional giggle and smile.

Finally, as intuitions tell me that I am at the bottom of this layer, the emotions settle and I begin to meditate. After trying several approaches to journey with subconscious metaphors, I feel guided to visualize my life of struggle with mosquitoes. I enjoy a long, beautiful meditation while exploring this theme – a pattern of how the little things have always bugged me. In fact, I have frequently altered outdoor plans just to avoid all biting insects – and have always tried to hide behind protective clothing and walls to keep away from the annoyances.

I have often missed out on nature because I would rather remain bundled up indoors than risk those pesky bites.

A Space Of Pure Love

“This is the same as my energetic life,” I ponder. “To me, most people are like mosquitoes (energetically of course).”

Rather than connect with the beautiful hearts out there, I would rather isolate my heart to protect it from the energetic mosquitoes. I lock my heart behind closed doors and walls. If I do open my heart, I dress in protective clothing and hide behind shawls and mosquito nets.

I feel a subconscious terror that anyone “out there” might energetically bite my heart – that I might sponge up their emotional density, suck in their blood-itching conditioning, itch and scratch with their odd beliefs, or cringe with terror at their agitated opinions.

And to me, most parties are like walking into a mosquito infested jungle. I would rather not go anywhere near them.

As I ponder “How do I do this?” I again begin to sob with fear and confusion.

“I don’t know how,” I feel an inner tantrum start to rage hopelessly. “I don’t know how! I don’t know how!”

“I DO know how,” I quickly catch myself with love. “I just pretend not to know. The answer is self-love … loving the “me that is frightened” … the “me that shuts down my heart in a protective stance”.”

It is absurd that for most of my life, I would rather have no love, no beautiful social experiences, than risk that I might get bitten.

“But in a space of pure love, nothing can bite me,” I ponder deeper. “And if it does bite, it won’t bother me. I won’t feel it. I won’t itch. I will just smile with transparency.”

A Playground Of Reality

To my delight, this beautiful meditation just gets better and better. I access profound insights at an experiential level – insights that I have long understood with the mind, but which are more deeply reinforced in the inner-knowing category.

I revisit my personal mission statement, reminding myself of my divine birthright (as have we all) – reminding myself that I need no outside validation and that nothing “out there” can affect my energy or self-perception in any way, unless I give away my power.

I soon reach a state of profound presence, of knowing there is nothing to heal and nothing to do in order to be worthy – that each of us is already perfect the way we are. Yes, we reap the consequences of our behavior and choices, but we do not have to earn our divinity.

Insights abound in metaphors – reminding me that life is just a huge novel, where I am one of the characters, here to have an amazing experience of growth and healing. In fact, I wrote and designed the novel – my own personal holodeck. I am the creator, and every person in the script serves a purpose in my personal story.

“When they are not in the story, do they even exist?” I ask the existential question.

It is clear that the novel, (or movie, or video game) is interactive, and ever changing, with countless possible choices – but every choice simply brings different journeys and adventures. The ending is assured, if not in this lifetime, then in another.

It is clear that at one time or another, I have been all of the characters, and I have played all of the roles, including that of mosquito. If I play the same character, that is a parallel life. If I play a different character, it is like a past life. We are all one, simply exploring the adventure together.

As bedtime finally arrives, I am back, glowing with loving energy and insight.

A Healing Day

On Saturday, day 6 of integration, I find new growth in a “Spiritual Inquiry” class – one in which we sit with partners and answer deep meaningful questions. When asked “How do you think you should be?” I go through layers of conditioning and roles – of shoulds, musts, and ought-tos – of trying to meet the expectations of others rather than following my own heart.

By the time I answer the question for the third time, I realize that all I need be is present in my own heart, being in my joy, living with playfulness, creativity, and following inner guidance.

The exercise brings great clarity to the importance of simply being me – of simply following my passion in every moment – of making all decisions from within that magical heart space, in the present moment, period!

As bedtime approaches, my muscles ache from yet another long day of activities. It has been an emotional day, but a good day of deep healing and insight. I am ready for quiet time in my room.

A New Role

On Sunday, February 9, 2014, after a busy and tiring day, I find myself in deep meditative joy.

The workshop is in ceremony tonight, and all of my fellow integration group are playing games in the dining area. Taking advantage of the silence, I feel a strong desire to immerse myself in quiet song, as I often used to do when wandering the mountains on my own.

For the next hour, I quietly sing, believing my voice to be nothing more than a melodic whisper. Joy radiates from my soul as my newfound energy radiates from the inside. My heart swells with gratitude as I review my life and ponder the magical events that have guided me to exactly where I am.

I am quite surprised when someone suddenly knocks at my door, gently informing me that they can hear me down in the dining hall.

The old me would have been totally embarrassed and in shame. The new me just giggles apologetically. I love this new attitude.

“Finally,” I giggle silently. “Finally, it is ME who is the rule breaker. I love it.”

Blessed To Share

As Monday morning rolls around, I am surprised when yoga again causes deep emotion to surface. It is not fun to sink to the depths, yet again, but this time I manage to feel the emotion without losing myself in visible sobs. My physical boundaries are being pushed by all the exercise activity – as are my emotions. But I feel profoundly grateful for the ongoing release process.

As is the pattern lately, after a long day of classes, I turn in early and devour another chapter of Rasha, A Journey to Oneness.

On Tuesday, I wake up quite groggy and decide to skip yoga. My body craves rest.

In the afternoon, I have an amazingly beautiful talk with a member of my group, with the topic being chocolate ceremonies and empaths. We share stories, and my words profoundly inspire her. I feel so blessed to be able to share my insights and experience in a way that influences and blesses the life of another.

Later, as I rest in my room, doing a little emotional processing, Peter and my other neighbor begin to loudly converse on the front porch. I feel quite annoyed by the inconsiderate disturbance. It is common courtesy, in these tight quarters, to take long conversations to a common area. The triggers with my neighbor are beginning to intensify. But for today, I keep the emotion bottled up. Part of me still believes I need to repress this emotion.

Vulnerable But Committed

Intense rain drenches the jungle as I awake on Wednesday, February 12, 2014. I cannot believe it is already day ten of integration, but on the other hand, it again feels like months have literally passed.

Just after breakfast, I experience an incident where I feel deeply intimidated by a social conversation in the dining hall. Feeling triggered, and desperately not wanting to project the emotion onto others, I rush back to my room, sob for ten minutes, and then proceed to eat a half dose of cacao. I feel another day of processing coming on, and I will not back away from it.

As fate would have it, there is another “Spiritual Inquiry” group at 10:00 a.m., and the primary question is, “What kind of love do you most long for?”

I don’t like the question and I am terrified to answer it. I am still quite emotional from the morning, and now from the chocolate. I feel deeply vulnerable, but I dive in anyway, partnering up with a friend and opening my soul.

True Love

Tears fill my eyes, and I choke back sobs as I attempt to answer the question. Periods of long silence conspicuously obscure my expression, as words escape me. I try to answer from a spiritual perspective, knowing that “divine love” is all I really want and need … yet the human in me desperately wants to just be loved and held in physical embrace – longing for the human validation that has eluded me for so long. Yet I know it has been my choice to heal my life instead.

A sense of doubt and hopelessness suddenly knocks on my door as my vulnerable heart continues to express. This emotion screams silently, demanding that it IS ME – demanding that I let it in, that I believe it. I truly do know that the only love that really heals is that inner divine connection, but in this vulnerable moment, I struggle to ground myself in that knowing.

Yet this emotion is real, and I allow myself to feel it. I realize that most of my social struggle stems from this sense of still needing the love and validation to come from the outside. This emotion insists that I am defective, that I don’t belong, and that it is far safer to sit on the sidelines rather than risk rejection. It seems that all of my social nightmares are related to projections of this repressed belief system about such love.

But in my heart, I know that the only love that brings true satisfaction comes from within – from the depths of a personal connection with source. For my whole life, while longing for such love from outside, I have lowered my vibrations and given away my power in the process of seeking loving validation. Intuitions reassure me that keeping my vibrations high and my inner connection strong is far more important than socializing in low vibe environments, just for the sake of being around others.

Profound clarity swirls into existence during this ninety minute session.

Ignoring Appearances

But the morning leaves me emotional and distracted. During an art space, as I attempt more sacred geometry creations, my compass keeps slipping as I attempt to draw circles, and frustrations bubble in the depths. I soon return to my room to continue in isolation.

Even though I later do another round of taiji and yoga, my motivation is low, and I cannot shake the emotion. Still, I am gentle with myself, honoring myself for facing such deep emotional struggle without backing away.

After dinner, I spend the remainder of the evening in deep meditation, immersing myself in self-love, congratulating myself for all the amazing things I am doing in my life. I ponder words that Keith (The Chocolate Shaman in Guatemala) often told me about how ending old emotional loops is a process – one where we gradually catch ourselves earlier in the loop, until eventually, we manage to not even enter the loop, and over time, the loop loses its attraction completely. I clearly recognize that I have made huge progress in awareness, in either not entering such loops, or in leaving them very early.

In spite of appearances, I know that what I did today was profound beyond words. I have understood this stuff at a mental level, but today I experienced it in a way that words cannot adequately define – doing so at a heart level, far deeper than words. I felt the emotions to the core of my soul, and I brought in higher light and love to assist.

I am very proud of such growth.

Back To Bubbly

On Thursday, February 13, 2014, I feel bubbly and social again. With a giggle in my heart, I take Bobby-bear and Brenda-doll to lunch with me, introducing them to my friends. I enjoy a beautiful social conversation with others.

And in the afternoon, I am delighted by the opportunity to join a singing activity in which I get to express this joy in a vocal, harmonizing way. I understand the need for silence in the shared space, but with all of the magical growth, I have longed for an opportunity to sing out.

And later, the afternoon ends with a wild and crazy free dance session, with music that is a little weird, and dancing (on my part) that is also a little weird – but nevertheless, I love it, and dance with abandon, not giving much thought to what others may think.

Beginning Of The End

To my shock and amazement, day twelve of my first integration period comes all too soon. It is Friday, February 14, 2014 – Valentines Day AND also a full moon.

As I get dressed in the morning, I can only giggle at how damp most of my clothes are. The humidity here is intense, and even if clothes are dry during the day, if you leave them out in your room during the night, they are soon wet again by morning.

After a beautiful bonding experience with several of my group during an 11:00 a.m. yoga session, I am quite puzzled to see that the afternoon schedule has been shifted. At 2:00 p.m., a mysterious hike has been added to the schedule, and my taiji and qigong classes were cancelled. It is a hike to a huge tree, said to be about a one-hour walk away in the jungle (each way).

Unsure of whether I really have the strength or desire to go, I make a last minute decision to join in the activity. I never could have known how intense the experience would be.

Just before the scheduled time, I go to my room, fill a small back pack with water, camera, and a long-sleeved shirt for mosquito/sun protection. After putting on my knee-high rubber boots (needed in the jungle), I join the group, and we are off…

A Jungle Encounter

And Wow! What a deeply triggering and intense experience it is – both emotionally and physically.

Early in the hike, it is the pace of the leader’s walking that causes my inner chatter to ignite. He walks as if he is in a race for time, almost at a gallop. With my physical state, the pace is not maintainable, and my mental stories begin almost immediately. I know there is absolutely no way I will ever be able to keep up if they continue this race to the finish line. But I do my best to suppress the inner dissent, and I struggle to remain near the front of the group. At times, I even take the lead and slow down, just hoping that other might follow suit.

“I just know that if I fall behind, no one will even notice,” the inner fears begin to project wildly. “I will be left in the dust, all alone, and will not be able to find my way back.”

The stories build and build as I trudge forward, often out of breath.

Then, the trail intensifies, leaving the main path into up-and-down terrain, passing through areas that are muddy and overgrown. Soon, as I still attempt to remain somewhere near the front, we hear loud yelling from back about seventy-five yards behind us. At this distance what they are saying is not discernible.

“Run, run,” the people call out. “Someone disturbed a wasp nest and they are attacking us. Run … don’t stop … keep going … run.”

Those of us in front can’t hear what they are saying, and we stop to see what is happening.”

Emergency Retreat

By the time we fully understand what has happened, the people at the rear have outrun their winged attackers. We keep going, and soon, the trail becomes unbearable – at least for me.

After crossing a swampy area with mud deeper than our knees, on nothing but a series of narrow logs, the next few hundred feet climb straight up on loose soil. At least five or six times, as I struggle with the steepness, my exhaustion is so great that I have to stop and hug a tree, panting for breath, actually bursting into quiet sobs, while people continually pass me by. By the time I have the strength to make it to the top, I find myself at the tail end of the line, and fading fast. I used to suffer from exercise-induced asthma, but it has not bothered me in more than five years. Suddenly, I am coughing, as if the asthma is returning. I simply cannot go on … but I try.

Soon, the group in front of me descends an equally steep hill. As I go down, the only thing I can think of is that I will have to climb back up again in the near future.

“We are only five minutes away,” the leader reassures us.

I want to keep going, but feel great relief when I learn that half of the group is immediately turning around. The circumstances are critical. One of the group had been stung over twenty times, and he is rapidly swelling up, getting hives, and going into some type of allergic reaction and shock.

I too decide to turn around and join those returning. As I climb that steep hill again, I pant for breath, over and over. By the time I reach the top, the others are running on ahead. Several men are nearly carrying the struggling man, while others race ahead to find help. I drift further and further behind, quietly sobbing and exhausted, barely able to breathe. (Note: Help was found and the man recovered.)

An Exhausted Return

But my worst fears do not materialize. In fact, I find great love and support from beautiful people. One sweet young woman reassures me that she will not leave me behind, so she stays with me. Others offer similar love and support. But because of the urgency, they have to run on, and my friend that remains behind has to rush on to make sure she too does not get lost, so that she can come back to show me the way. The jungle out here is a very confusing maze of trails, and nighttime rapidly approaches.

“I have to go on ahead,” she reassures me, “but I will come back for you.”

“I will be fine as long as you stop and wait at any confusing turns,” I tell her. “If I can find the burned out field, I will be able to find my way from there.”

I walk for nearly forty-five minutes on my own, following major turns until I do find that large field of charred logs. Exhausted, I sit down to wait, knowing I will be alright, once I get my strength back. It is not ten minutes later before my friend, and the hike leader both return, calling out my name. Bless his heart, the leader stays with me, walking very slowly and talking to me for the remaining forty-five minutes. As it turns out, I would have gotten lost if I had tried to do the rest of the hike by myself.

Barely able to hobble, I take my final steps onto the property of the Temple just as the rains begin to fall and the sun starts to fade. My hips are killing me, but I made it.

After a shower, I barely have strength to go eat dinner, and my appetite is so weak that I only eat half.

An Emotional Quest

As it turns out, there is another women’s circle tonight. I was so looking forward to going, but given my current emotional and physical state, I am not sure that I can.

A dear friend from my group is so amazing as we talk after dinner. I am so raw, emotional, and vulnerable right now that I do not see any way that I could participate in the women’s circle without making a blubbering fool of myself. My friend reassures me that I am not “running away” from the group, and that she will tell everyone how much I wanted to be there.

“Take some time for your self,” my friend reassures me. “Get some rest and process your emotions.”

At 7:40 p.m., as I sit scribbling notes under the mosquito net on my bed, I write the following words:

“The hike today was profoundly important in triggering more buried emotions that need to be healed. I was very skilled today at not attaching to or identifying with the emotions – at not projecting them much onto others – at remembering how none of this was really “out there”, BUT the emotions are STILL DEEP AND RAW. It is time to go inside and feel them to the core, while trying to walk the tightrope and not get lost and stuck in them. Here I go … wish me luck.”

As I go deep into the emotional release, I ponder the beautiful love that was shown to me today, by so many people. Even after the hike, two of my friends told me how much they admired my strength and courage.

I sob and sob through deep layers of core pain. It runs very deep, and is very “sticky” emotion – devious and difficult to shake – but I go right into it.

Finally, I meditatively express my willingness to let this all go, and gradually the deep emotion is replaced by joy and love. Soon, still wanting to participate in the women’s circle, but physically feeling like an eighty-five year old woman who just had hip surgery on both hips, I grab a chair and wobble up to the soccer field.

From The Ashes

As I hike up to the fire, I remember one point this afternoon when I found the insight to ask “Is the emotion I am feeling even mine?” I had been shocked to get the answer, “No, not all of it, you are also feeling much of the intense emotion of others who are also struggling.”

This insight was quite profound. I realize that even from the beginning of the hike, I was not in a good heart space, and I was sucking emotion in from others throughout the day.

When I arrive at the women’s circle, I am greeted with loving compassion and well wishes, thanking me for coming. I am so grateful that I decided to go.

First, I participate in an activity where we each take turns sharing what we are letting go of, and then we give it to the fire.

“I am proud of myself for how I felt such deep emotions this week, and how I did not get lost in any of them,” I share with the group. “Instead, I took them all inside, processed through them, and gave them to the light, returning to love and joy without creating dramas or projecting them onto anyone else. I now give any remaining, unprocessed emotion to the fire.”

Later, feeling inspired and confident, I ask permission to share the words to a song. The guidance is so strong that I have to share, doing so from memory. The words are as follows:

From The Ashes
Sung by: Martina McBride

My right hand holds matches, my left holds the past
I hope the wind catches, and burns it down fast
I’m gonna step into the fire, with my failures and my shame,
And wave goodbye to yesterday, as I dance among the flames

So don’t try to save me now
Let the walls of my world all burn down
Just stand back and wait till the smoke finally passes
And I will rise from the ashes,
from the ashes
from the ashes

For all that I’m losing, much more will I gain
The hard part is choosing, to change what needs changed.
And my step will be much lighter, with these demons off my chest
I’m born a better spirit, and lay the old to rest

So don’t try to save me now
Let the walls of my world all burn down
Just stand back and wait till the smoke finally passes
And I will rise from the ashes
From the ashes
From the ashes

And I’ll walk away stronger
I will be flying, higher and truer than I’ve flown before

My right hand holds matches, my left holds my past
I hope the wind catches, and burns it down fast

Core Triggering

After two weeks of struggling with Peter’s energy vibe, Saturday brings new triggers. As I sit meditating and reading all day in my room, Peter is sitting on the porch, talking to our other neighbor. Their voices are loud, and soon the conversation turns to all sorts of extreme political and government conspiracy topics. I try to ignore the noise, but the energy of the whole conversation triggers me … this man who seems so sweet and innocent on the outside has shown me nothing but a selfish, entitled attitude, and now he is talking about political things that show me he also feels extremely deserving and entitled in other ways.

After a while, even with ear plugs and a pillow wrapped around my ears, the conversation is driving me crazy. Being terrified to confront it head on, I decide to just remove myself from the situation, and I grab my book before storming out to go down to the dining area.

But a few minutes later, I realize that running away with this much emotion solves nothing. Soon, I walk back to my room, hoping to avoid Peter, but he is still talking on the porch, and as I approach, the conversation goes eerily quiet. Unable to stop myself, I ask Peter to please take loud conversations elsewhere, and especially, please do not have political conversations in the housing area. I am proud of myself, but also feel extremely guilty for having spoken up. For the rest of the day, I process that guilt, returning to a state of self-love.

I am so tired of reacting unconsciously to external triggers. I am so much more aware of my actions, but still react on autopilot when the situation is intense.

Once again, I have set the stage for future escalating conflict. Even though Peter is moving out soon, he is not about to leave my energy field. He will be working in the kitchen for the next two weeks. It seems as if I have manifested a perfect sparring partner – one that will trigger me to the core. But that will be a future story for another day.

Moving Forward

After what was a beautiful twelve day ayahuasca workshop, my last seventeen days of break and integration time have been profoundly productive – equally as profound as were the first seven ayahuasca ceremonies.

I have done so much work – core work – and can definitely feel the energetic difference. My inner energy seems to increasingly clarify, on a daily basis.

But in two more days I will begin the second workshop, engaging in another seven tightly-packed ayahuasca ceremonies. The break has been long enough. It feels like I am ready to go deeper in yet another way – and I am quite excited to do so.

… To be continued …

Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved