Every week there is a new horrifying or gobsmacking event happening in the US. I try to write in ways that are relevant to current events and how to navigate them while tending to our inner world and the collective, but I don't have the capacity to respond to them every time. Now that my cued e-letters for Reiki training are up (we've postponed the start until we have more registrants, so let me know if you are interested!), I'm confronted again with what to write. 

I'm going to speak plainly today. 

If you haven't been paying attention, you need to now. 

If you listen to Fox News, it's time to find another source. They've been lying to you. 

It's time to find non-violent ways to respond, and repeat, ad nauseam. This is the necessity of these times. 

Minnesotans are brave. Resilient. Scared. Doing the thing anyway. In frigid, unsafe temperatures. I love them. I wish they didn't have to do this.

I know many of you have Minnesotans in your life. Check on them. Send them care packages. Protest in solidarity with them (there are many ICE Out protests going on around the country.) Let them know they aren't doing this alone.

Us Midwesterners are hearty folk. We've lived through the bitter cold and snow year after year. We care about our community, and that is showing in the unwillingness to submit to bullies who just want us to lay down and take it. Fuck that.

The macrocosm is the microcosm. Imagine (or remember) an abusive family system. The emotionally and physically abusive parent hurts one of the children. The other is the golden child (immune to the physical harm, but also steeped in the emotional harm in different ways). The child who is being hit says something, speaks out about the abuse. "How dare that child say anything?" thinks the abusive parent or enabler. They should just sit there and take it. The abusers thinks the child is making them hit them, because the child upset them. It would all just be better if they were quiet.

Well, that's the narrative for the US right now coming from those in positions of power.

Historians and political scientists have a world for it when it's a government: Totalitarianism.

From Britannica.com:
Totalitarianism is a form of government that attempts to assert total control over the lives of its citizens. It is characterized by strong central rule that attempts to control and direct all aspects of individual life through coercion and repression. It does not permit individual freedom. Traditional social institutions and organizations are discouraged and suppressed, making people more willing to be merged into a single unified movement. Totalitarian states typically pursue a special goal to the exclusion of all others, with all resources directed toward its attainment, regardless of the cost.

My work is all about healing and releasing trauma. This administration is generating so much trauma it brings me to tears. Sometimes I collapse on my floor, head in my hands, before I rally myself. 

Alex. Renee. A baby that stopped breathing from being teargassed. An autistic woman carried away as she was on the way to the doctor. A peaceful protestor blinded. Oglala Sioux Tribal members detained (they are the only ones who never immigrated! wtf?!?!). People of color (citizens and those here legally) profiled, harassed, detained because of how they look, how they speak, how they dress. I could go on and on.

All of these people, they need us. We need us. 

The Republican members of Congress have the power to stop this. There is still time to pressure them to rein in ICE. Congress: 202-224-3121. You don't have to have the perfect thing to say. You just need to call. Honestly, I find it rather cathartic hounding Ron Johnson. ;)

What I do believe in is the power of the people. You and me. There are more of us than there are of them. We are fed up, and this doesn't have to continue. We just have to be willing to do something about it. Stand in your power. Don't give it away to them in complacency or fear. We are stronger together. 

Voces de la Frontera has resources to support immigrants, and rally to protect them in Wisconsin. Donate, volunteer, get involved. We need to be ready.

Monarcha is the rapid response line in Minnesota. They need our support. 

Keep an eye on the 287g program, and speak up! This gives municipalities federal money for local law enforcement to collaborate with ICE. Because they've been deputized in this way, essentially any police officers in participating counties are also effectively ICE agents. They often also have beds reserved in their jails for detainees. There are numerous counties in Wisconsin that are currently participating at the time of this writing: Brown, Calumet, Fond du Lac, Kenosha, Kewaunee, Kewaunee, Manitowoc, Marathon, Marquette, Outagamie, Sauk, Sheboygan, Washington, Waukesha, Waushara, Winnebago, and Wood Counties Sheriffs' Offices, and the Palmyra Police Department. This is also reversible! So if you live in one of those counties, speak up and say you do not want your police department participating!

Know that I'm doing what I can to stand with you in this. I've been standing up to bullies since 1987. Standing up to these bullies has become my new hobby.

If you need help regulating your nervous system, or finding moments to recharge to keep doing the thing, I'm here. 

I'm also wanting to offer Reiki to immigrants and those being harmed by this administration. If you would like to donate funds to help sponsor folks, or donate your own Reiki skills to help, let me know. Hopefully, our little bits of effort will lessen some of the long lasting impacts of this harm. 

Keep showing up.

Love ya'll and stay safe out there,

Sarah

Hey Friends,

The days are growing darker, the veil is growing thinner. We have entered a time of inward turning here in the Northern Hemisphere. The advancing quiet welcomes our reflection, and often provides the right conditions for subtitles to bubble up from our subconscious.

Our modern Western celebration of Halloween plays with ghouls, goblins and spectres, while offering us a sugar high to face them all. While this can bring fun and fancy, we can choose to explore the theme of these celebrations in relation to our own healing to take them deeper.

(Note: If you've been finding yourself in an activated fight/flight response you may want to skip this reflective practice. Continue reading at the bold text.)

So, dear one, what fears lay present within you? 

Oh boy, did you notice yourself contracting or resisting at all to that question? Perhaps that is your body's response trying to protect you from seeing these fears. I invite you to breathe with me, remind yourself that you are safe, and invite the presence of light and compassion to be with you.

What fear wants to be witnessed by you in this moment? Maybe you write it down. Continue to breathe, and observe it with curiosity. Just like with the quintessential boogie man in the closet that we realize is a coat once we've opened the door and turned on the light, so too, may we feel relief when we hold our fears with brave, loving, compassionate interest. We realize things aren't always as they seem. Some of our fears will boil down to these distortions of reality that need gentle correction.

Others may be of another variety, revealing the fragility of the human experience. Things that we may likely or inevitability face at some point: a fear of loss, pain, death, rejection, etc. These things we can run from, pretend that they are not there, or do whatever we can to try to prevent them from happening. Of course, we would do that. These fears and potential realities can be difficult, and scary. We are trying to protect ourselves. But, what if, for this moment, with me and all the other readers here with you, we breathe and acknowledge this fear and how it feels in your body. In truth, we may not ever be able to stop or change some of these fears from happening. But, we can be with our vulnerabilities with compassion. We can know that this is part of the human experience, and each of us is not alone. There are so many people out in the globe who hold this same fear. Though that doesn't take it away, somehow, for me, I find this shared humanness can be a balm for the experience.

When facing these types of "inevitable" fears, I try to remind myself of my own resilience, and tools. That no matter what I might face in the future that I have the ability to move through that experience, and ask for help if I need it. I remind myself of the times that I have faced my fears, whether by choice or life dragging me through them. I see that those experiences I've survived, and perhaps I've gained greater wisdom or tools as a result.

Sometimes though, working with our fear is something we need to do in a safe, supportive environment. We might need to untangle stored trauma in our bodies to release us from the fight/flight response. Soothing our nervous system, and coming to a place of regulation is key. If this resonates, you might find Reiki, or working with a skilled trauma-informed practitioner supportive.

No matter how you might find yourself today, remember you are not alone, you matter, and there are loving forces in the universe out there to support you, you just have to ask.

Feeling brave? Want to share with us one of your fears, or how you are feeling after sitting compassionately with them? Let us know in the comments.

Sending lots of love,
Sarah

P.S. Reach out if you need support! :)

Last Wednesday was one of those rainy days where it gently, and consistently pours throughout the day. I've always been fond of the rain. There is something about it that invites reflection and comfort for me.

After receiving a liberating and joyful Alexander Technique lesson with my friend and colleague Xochi John, I had a short window of time before my next client. There was a break in the rain, and something was subtly beckoning me outside for a stroll. I debated the amble as I wouldn't have enough time to make it to the woody savanna that I like to visit. It would have to be a short jaunt around the creek behind our office, then right back. Maybe my time would be better spent integrating the lesson with a brief rest on the couch, I contemplated. I let my hesitations go, put on my coat, and ventured to the creek.

It felt soothing to get outside, and take in the happenings of the creatures out and about. As I passed under a bridge, I saw a family of ducks skimming along. The mother leading the way with the fuzzy little ducklings scuttling behind in a row, two by two, rotating who was in the front. I stopped to admire them for a bit, and counted nine little ducklings. Gosh, they were adorable. They found a patch of vegetation, scattered to their posts, and began to feed. I carried on.

I reached the turn around point for the path, and saw a muskrat swimming along. The furry one eventually disappeared from sight as it neared the bushy plants draping over the edge of the waterway. I relished in gratitude to work so close to this haven for wildlife, and began my return trip on the other side of the creek.

After passing under the bridge, I eventually came upon the family of ducklings again. They hurriedly darted among the watery weeds feeding further along the shore. I checked my watch; I still had enough time before my client would arrive, so I decided to wait and bit longer and watch them. They didn't seem to notice me, though I was only about 15 feet away on the edge of the bike path. These poofy little beings were so eager to eat, it's as if I existed in a completely different dimension outside of their reality. Their ease allowed me to marvel in how adorable they all were, without fear of startling them.

Then, all of a sudden, I realize something is awry. The mother frantically darts back and forth squawking. She is searching for something. The little ducklings move to the side. One, two, three...eight. There are only eight! Where is the ninth?! I hear a little, "peep, peep, peep," but can't see the other duckling anywhere.

The mother seems to have found her lost little one. She plunges her head into the water trying to pull her beloved up with her beak. I can see the small orange beak break the surface for a moment, before it plunges back underwater. Again, the mother attempts. And, again, to the same effect. Frantic desperation fills the air. The mother, unable to help her little one, quickly shepherds the other ducklings away to the other side of the creek, shielding them from a similar fate.

I cannot see the little duckling from where I am standing. I move to the edge of the creek where I saw the mother's urgent attempts. There, shrouded within the weeds, I spot the little duckling's head pointed outward, completely underwater, yet only a mere couple inches from the surface.

I crouch down, and lean in to gently scoop up the little one, but it is dreadfully tangled. I am able to lift it enough so it's head is out of the water, but if I let go, it will sink again. I must work at freeing it. As I carefully pull the plant matter from its right wing, the mother realizes I am holding her baby. She flies from the other shoreline straight toward me, her alarm shrieks ringing in the air. She lands in the middle of the stream, and becomes quiet, though vigilant.
 
By now, I realize there is something from below weighing the duckling down. I reach deeper, and feel a woody stalk that was laying horizontally, wedged over the little duckling's foot. As I raise the stalk from the depths, the duckling now has enough wiggle room to free itself. It darts out of the mess of weeds in my hands, runs along the shoreline, then zooms through the water reuniting with its mother. Salvation! They rejoin the eight siblings, and go back to feeding in a more sheltered spot of the creek.

I burst into tears, overwhelmed with emotion. Waves of feelings and sensations moving through me, which I am unsure if words exist to describe. All I know is that this experience was as much of a gift to me as that little duckling, and its mother. After letting the reality of what's just unfolded settle a bit, I head back into the clinic to prepare for my next client.

A couple hours later, I have another short break, and decide to go out and see if I could check on this duck family I now feel inexplicably close with. At the far end of the creek, near Lake Monona, I spot them. Again, feeding along the rocky shore. All nine ducklings and mother. They all seem to be moving about just like normal, happy ducklings. My heart smiles. They are all okay. We are all okay.

                                                                 ____________


As the ripples of this experience have had sometime to soak into my consciousness, I feel the layers of meaning and lessons so intertwined, gently peaking their heads up. The possibilities that arise when we listen to the inklings we have. How something larger than ourselves sometimes uses us to be "guardian angels" for others, guiding us to be in the right place at the right time. The life-saving power of being present, aware, and seeing what is; had I just continued walking, or not taken a closer look, I would not have noticed that little duckling trapt underwater. That having an outside perspective, and the right tools for the job is essential; no matter how much that mother tried to save her beloved, she didn't have what was necessary to untangle the little one. When we move from a place of connectedness, love, and willingness, knowing that we are a part of the whole—not a separate, outside observer—miracles can happen. Yes, sometimes it may come down to "little old me" or you to act, there may not be anyone else there to swoop in. So many universal lessons to contemplate.

Finally, on a personal note, I know this experience is an incredible gift, and sign. I have been diving deeply in recent months, healing core layers of wounding of my inner child. A part of me that was so tangled in thoughts of illusion and darkness, that attempting suicide seemed the only way to be seen in my pain. Fortunately, I too, had guardian angels. My dear childhood friend Mikaela's love, and witnessing pulled me out of the depths at that time, and I have not been caught in that seemingly inescapable grasp since. But there were remnants of that pain that still needed healing. Over the last decade, I have nurtured trust with this ten-year-old me, and offered her healing with the gift of Reiki, and other support I have uncovered on this journey. In the process, those wounds have dissolved, bit by bit. Now that I am an adult, I have the right tools, I know I have friends "in the light" I can call upon, and, damn it, young Sarah, I see you, just like I saw that little duckling, and I will never leave you tangled in darkness again. I love you. This experience was a sign to me of the progress I've made, and, perhaps most moving for me, a completion of the cycle; gratitude for my life that was saved, and the gift to return the favor, and free another from a similar fate.

Dear friends, thank you for reading my story. I hope it offers some medicine for you, which will no doubt be unique to your own life. If you feel inspired, I would love to hear what this evokes within you. Feel free to comment below.

No matter where this finds you today, may you know there are "angels" around every corner, and if you need someone to walk with you, all you have to do is ask.

With so much love for you,

Sarah


P.S. Okay, Brené Brown... How's that for daring greatly? I'll admit, I was tentative about sharing my personal note, but I hope that in the sharing it has been helpful for some.

P.P.S. I will be away from the clinic June 22–30, 2019 to rest and recharge. Please reach out to me before if you need support, otherwise I will be getting back to you when I return at the beginning of July.