Here’s how earlier this year I cleared up the leftovers of trauma I had with the feminine..
My mother had been diagnosed with a brain tumour, which had her losing balance on one side of the body and with daily paralyzing migraines for over a month..
Before considering chemo or pharmaceuticals I invited her to see that this situation carried a gift and a message..
One she was probably avoiding for too long.
Right away I organized for us to go to 3 days back to back of Kambo, followed by 6 Aya ceremonies, acupuncture, shamanic “curas” (healing rituals), a sweat lodge and more..
Leveraging all the nature-given tools we have access to, to expedite the process of understanding, healing and releasing.
During the last ceremonies I started to feel severe pain around my lungs and heart area..
Unbearable grief, deeply rooted and present from a time before my logical cognition and memory were fully formed.
The scariest abyss to look into..
It was excruciating to feel it all:
“Abandonment. I am not loved. I’m not worthy of being alive. Nobody cares..”
These were the stories that I had unconsciously created upon interpreting my mom’s actions through the lens of a baby..
Something as simple as feeling her being overwhelmed next to me and deciding I was the burden. (and not the 100s of external stressors present in her life)
I touched the wound that had informed (de-formed) my relationship with women all my life..
The pain I inflicted to every woman I dated was a result of this closure I unconsciously carried in my heart.
(It showed up as a near fatal pneumonia back then, and as narcissistic tendencies later on.)
The baby felt it all and almost died, the young adult avoided feeling at all and almost dies.
In that ceremony I saw the truth..
The countless sacrifices she made
All the sleepless nights
Her sleeping on a chair as I laid intubated in a hospital bed
All the hours in long bus rides to the Dr
Her delicious meals
Her loving conversations..
And above all, the gift of Life itself.
The wound in me prevented me from acknowledging the vast amounts of love my mother had showed me..
And to heal meant not only to accept and understand why the painful moments had happened..
But most importantly to stop ignoring all the ways in which she was there for me, in the best way she knew, with the few resources she had at hand, with the greatest love she was capable of in her heart.
In that moment it dawned on me that all the bliss and beauty I’ve ever experienced in my life..
All the love I’ve made
All the tears of laughter..
Sunrises and sunsets..
Songs and dances..
I owe it all to her.
And no pain, misunderstanding or trauma was remotely large enough to offset having received the gift of life.
In the silence the shaman started playing a song he had just written..
An ode to the mother.
I started sobbing…
Sobbing for all the moments I carried bitterness against my mother and women..
Crying about the ways in which I thought less of my mom, and women..
Tears of humility, repentance and a heart finally breaking wide open.
I felt myself receiving the love of The Great Mother pouring through my mother..
And with this, I felt once again in love with my life.
In love with being alive.
Worthy of being a life.
I glanced across the ceremonial fire and saw my mother deep in her own process with the medicine.
I walked up to her and gave her a hug, with tears still in my eyes.
I felt the honour of being a son..
And the sacred responsibility that comes with that.
A responsibility and opportunity to treat ALL women as The Mother.
With reverence, devotion and care.
Today I celebrate your birthday Mom.
Thank you for gifting me this life..
And for all the ways known and unknown in which you’ve made me the man I am today.