The Subtle Feelings

It’s one of those days…those days that feel heavy and wraps a sense of being lost around you. There is no reason for this dropping of heart that feels as if it could not easily be understood. In my reflection of this familiar lost place I recognize why I am in this mood. It is again that sense of leaving…ending…and having hope take your hand uneasily while mustering your courage as you clasp and grip the invitation.

I am 46 years old. Not a spring chicken, but I feel alive and vibrant. My mind and dedication and future plans are electric.

And then there is today with this reminder that I still visit the swamp land of my past in exotic and subtle ways. My adoption happened in 1964 which left the first 5 years of my life full of foster homes, neglect, abuse, and confusion. These veils of emotion still are part of the garment that my emotional life wears. You would think that we would shed them after years of self reflection, healing, and integration. What I know now is they never go away, they simply find a subtleness that at times is unrecognizable.

This is what is happening today.

It is Tuesday. This past weekend I had a celebratory two days with long time friends and new friends. My friends and I have had a Native American circle of healing together for many years. We have practiced Michael Harner’s Shamanic Journey work since 1988 together. It has been a couple of years since we have joined our circle together again in my home. The circle has encompassed White Feather, the medicine man for the Wampanoag tribe on Chappaquiddick. He has joined our healing circle and has blessed us with pipe ceremony and sweat lodge work. We had a glorious healing weekend and the group members each broke open their hearts. I am the only adoptee in the circle, but we recognize each other through the challenges and circumstances we struggle to overcome in our lives. These are my family members who completely see me. Today I felt for the first time that I had a circle of family behind me that I could fall into and they would catch me.

How strange that this realization would sit along side this deep grey green feeling of loss today. There is the subtlety. I recognize the sadness after they returned to their prospective homes in other towns and some in other states. I am alone in the quiet today much like the aloneness and quiet of the bedroom of the daughter of the foster parents who took me in or the quiet of the corner of the playhouse on the black top at the orphanage. That small sad child sits with me today and I hold her and coo to her and whisper that all will be well.