healing bones
i’ve been feeling the call for sometime now to reconnect to the earth in a different way. for so long, i've felt disconnected, in my head. i’ve mostly continued to do my morning water blessings and expressions of gratitude for life and this precious earth, standing on the deck or patio. but i haven’t been on the earth. not in the ways i used to be, anyway. taking long walks barefoot in the woods. sitting by the edge of the pond to watch the fish jump or the geese glide. i haven’t even been in the garden to harvest or clear paths.
in my 20-week healing journey with my left foot (which it turns out it was broken in multiple places and is, truly, a boring story), i've pretty much kept to the indoor world. and, actually, it’s been an incredible blessing. not being able to walk barefoot for over five months, i was, at times, deeply frustrated and sometimes scared. for the most part, i didn’t let it get me down. but recently, i’ve wondered if i will ever walk well again, do yoga again, hike again, dance again.
those close to me have, of course, encouraged me, saying it will all be good and that it will just take time. but it’s been important for me to consider these possibilities. they have grown a deep compassion within me for people who are differently-abled, particularly when it comes to walking. i have thought so many times of our friend who is now in a wheelchair due to a snowboarding accident. i’ve felt deep compassion, and hopefully a mote of understanding, for her situation. i have become appalled at the lack of access and consideration for people who cannot walk well in our culture. it’s everywhere.
hopefully, i will be able to walk well again sometime soon. in the meantime i’m reminded that, right now – especially at this time of pandemic and all that goes with it, the best healing i can offer myself is to be on the earth. so, i’m sitting here at the edge of the pond following instructions from my deeper wisdom to dip my foot into the breathtakingly cold water and pack it with Love Creek mud. it feels really good. comforting, in fact.
as I watch the fish jump and listen to the Canadian geese conversing in their loud language, I wonder – is this the biggest gift of all of this? my foot. this pandemic. the climate crisis. “social distancing.” there is something deep inside which has been calling for a long time. calling me to reconnect to my deeper humanity, to the Mother of All LIfe, to my breath, to my ancestors. calling me to remember.
a friend, who also happens to be a Chinese medical doctor, recently told me, “bone medicine work is profound. it’s our foundation, the keeper of fears and our lineage.... right where i fractured my ankle the point is known as “the sea of marrow”. i felt ancestors wanting to penetrate into some old stories that needed to leave my bones.”
as i sit here listening to the wind singing in the trees, i close my eyes and feel the boundaries of my body fall away. i feel tenacious old stories about myself as a woman, a so-called “white person,” a mother, a daughter, a wife, a human being, which i didn’t even know were clinging to me, wanting to fall away. i find myself aching to learn more about my roots. mostly, though, i feel myself settle again, the tiny little muscles deep inside unwinding, as i allow myself to feel down into my bones. and all I can say, all I can offer, is thank you.
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