I’d love to share a story with you – a personal story – about radical aliveness and things from the deep weave of my life.
Yes! Radical aliveness – I am profoundly drawn to growing into the practice of experiencing the joy of life – perceived, embraced and embodied in its fullness, in continuum. Now I’m not talking of everything being comfortable and cosy, but rather, being in the space of mind that no matter what’s going on, no matter the situation, I can access and remember the passion and joy of being alive to it, whatever it is. I mean, how amazing is it to be alive, to be manifest in this physical existence, this adventure with a human body attached?
Imagine consciously watching the adventure unfold in front of your very eyes, knowing that who you choose to be is reflected in every aspect of the unfolding of it! Ecstasy, right? And agony, too, I know, especially when I forget that I have the choice to perceive it in the light of my soul’s highest expression. I am the weaver of my life. Radical.
So, a month or so ago, I became alive to a shoulder that really hurt. Creaky body. Stiff neck and back. Whaaaat? My once perfectly healthy body, showing cracks? Unravelling?
An earnest question from a friend: Do you do any self-care? My response – cheekily tracing my fingers down my body, play-sensually, ‘yess’…
But. Nope. Not physical stuff anyway. Really, Rene? Okay, I guess it’s time to change that! That choice set off an adventure of getting to know myself even deeper. Everything is connected, right? The weave constantly confirms that for me, so… what shows in the body also is/was present in the mind, perhaps as a hidden stressor or long-held trauma, emotion or stuck belief. In my pain body, as Eckhardt might say. So, the adventure would also encompass delving into my shadow. The dark weave….!
Massage, acupuncture, homeopathy, and then… zenthai shiatsu at Woodford (folk festival). Well, that zenthai made me feel like all my joints had been ripped apart and put back together in a way that didn’t quite fit. Like I’d been dismembered. The numb, creaking stiffness had now moved into my entire upper body, not just my shoulder. What the? Maybe my weaving fibre was still too dry, and getting brittle.
A breathwork session brought up a manner of epigenetic awareness. I realised I was holding trauma patterns from my maternal grandmother’s genetic line, patterns deeply connected to my own shadowy pain stamped with the huge protective shield I had put up in order to make myself invisible as a sensual, sexual being. In order to feel alive. Did I really do that? Yes, and I did it well.
At Starlight festival in Byron Bay (where I facilitated a weaving circle), I invested in kinesiology, spinal alignment, journeying and energy healing sessions. Up popped a workshop titled ‘death and dismemberment’. Yes! Instantaneously I was drawn to this – death! (I remembered the beautiful journey with my father at his deathbed), and dismemberment – totally a reflection of the conversation I’d been having with the universe, right? The thought of travelling deep into the underworld to encounter my darkest shadow self excited me greatly! I laughed – how much I love skulls and bones and and the beauty of dead things, how I love to hold space for the darkness in others… so surely I’d be fine down there, being dissected, ripped apart, holding space for my own soul. Because then, maybe, I’d encounter the cause of my pain.
And after dismemberment would be re-memberment. With an upgrade. With gifts to share. Reborn to die, to be reborn to die. That’s what my name means, did you know that? Rene – reborn. (Latin) Bahloo – to die. (indigenous Aus). Like the moon. One thing the workshop facilitator said, that struck me, was this: as a shamanic practitioner going into the underworld (and especially as a psychopomp), he needed to be really good at self care, as holding space for all the trauma and pain of other souls can exact a heavy energetic toll.
Self care. There it is again. Refuelling mind, body and spirit. Looks like universe is setting me on a path, and perhaps not just for self-revelation, but maybe I’m on a deeper mission. The incentive to develop more self care could be just the foundation leading to something more. Mmm, an undercover mission – so much so, I can’t see where I’m going yet. Haha. Just the way I like to travel. Into the unknown again, incognito. Weaving in the dark.
Paradoxically, I have also noticed another part of my shadow – a certain addiction to being seen. Ha! To be seen for my value, in order to feel alive. Haaaa! Oh Facebook, oh Messenger and Whatsapp friends, the dopamine hits you bring to me! Never mind the oxytocin from a virtual hug! Or a physical one, even better! Bliss! I guess the trick is to enjoy it rather than to need it. Like loving unconditionally.
Another breathwork session, this time led by a beautiful soul sister. This is what I learned – all that I already have in my bag is exactly what I need, in any given moment. So, what do I have in my bag? ME!!!!
And, Palo Santo oil, a tube of lip ice, car keys, two seeds, a piece of decoratively burned bushman bone, one lens from a pair of glasses, a nail file, an interdental brush. Each piece made perfect sense as a symbol of the weave of my life. The last object in my bag was a flick knife. So, during the breathing session, that knife made a journey with its sharpest edge, over the entirety of my body lying there (covered in palo santo oil), scraping, edging, cutting all the junk attached to me. And flicking it away. Over and over. My aching shoulder being the focal point of this mission, scraping off debris that doesn’t serve me, that doesn’t serve my body or my soul, scraping it away with tenderness, and firmness, and love. Oh, and – I also released my wounded arm to invite in an upgraded version. Under the watchful eye of the facilitator haha. When one fibre in the weave is compromised, introduce a new one!
Then, the most amazing thing. Universe showed me what it was like to be totally sensually embraced by the world. Stroked and cherished and touched, breathed in and loved up by the universe, full of the ecstasy of receiving and giving. Lying there on the floor in the hall, I received it all – energised as a sensual and sexual conscious being, not in hiding anymore! My fibre, supple and strong. The strands, woven tightly, connected.
Self care. Love. Look where the path of following this directive has brought me! Back to myself, to being radically alive in my skin, awake as a sensual being.
The weave comes full circle, as does this story. And it’s not done yet. Life continues … as cycles and circles unfurl, expand, overlap and intertwine. There are many more strands to this story, but these I have shared are enough to give it life, a woven tale of a moment of meaning. A story basket, woven with love.
You might read this and wonder if your presence (however briefly) as an unrevealed strand in this story has contributed to my healing and growth and my answer is YES! Absolutely, deeply, significantly and in shatteringly beautiful ways. You know who you are, even if you don’t think you know. And I thank you so deeply for the gift that you are to me. All of you. And all of your you’s. You make my basket whole.
And so the weave, and the story, continues to grow, and to be woven.
PS. If you wanted to know how my shoulder is feeling now…
Not gonna tell you. Until I’m looking at you.
https://www.eventbrite.com.au/o/rene-bahloo-10793355289
if you want to find me!
