Hello dear ones,

This week the journals resume in February 2021, where Black-Mountain Rebecca is about to begin Molly Caro May's Story Mammal workshop.

[If you're newly joining, here are part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5 of this journey.]

February 2, 2021
Molly's 6-week Story Mammal workshop began today.

One prompt: Consider a time when it happened differently. What is different. What is the same?

This time, the man rushing me is a nonjudgmental, patient Buddhist – a close friend, who would never yell at me. I'm in a safe space, and have higher awareness of my body. What's the same is that my throat tightens, I don't feel I can ask a question because he has to get to puja. I feel a pressure to be better, drill faster, be more competent. My tear glands start to well. My body is reacting, even though I'm safe this time. I can't see the space for error and questions, and that's suffocating.

February 19, 2021
With Ever last night we talked about the texture of our 30s, how there's so much going on energetically and nervous-system-wise, etc. in any given moment. It's all so rich and complex and interconnected. My energy works so differently now, and simple things (ie Nasim asking what music I'm listening to now) ring me dry and suck patience faster than I've ever experienced. 

There's so much nuance now, and everything seems heavier and heavier to explain. 

Why does “Where have you lived?” make me want to curl into my skin and crawl away? Because I am not the person who lived other places. Because I am here. Because as soon as you hear “Oregon, Arizona, Colorado, France, Spain, South Korea,” you might have an idea of me. Because I've shed those skins and bringing it in feels so heavy. I'm stripped to my core in grief. Raw. Conserving what energy I have to healing and rebirth. Learning who I am now, and how Rebecca operates. Training a life of peace and love. Re-teaching the nervous system. Tenderly taking care of me. Rebuilding strength. I can feel the energy of others and it affects me much deeper than ever before. I cannot get into lunchtime discussions about visiting North Korea because that's Too Much. Energy Zapper. I protect my energy so it's there for me to take a walk or hug a tree or read a book or make a pun.

February 21, 2021
Cathleen, your body transitioned two years ago today. What did it feel like, to complete / go to that stage of life's cycle? Your energy and spirit run through me, as it does in your family and loved ones too. I hope you're at peace. I'm glad I spent $50 on flowers that one birthday of yours. I want you to feel love and appreciation. 

I emailed your brother a few days ago, after not reaching out during the past two years. I feel like I'm grasping and there's nothing to grab – I desire to know your family, your siblings and nieces and nephews. To have gotten to meet them while you were still here. If I knew them, at least I could grasp their hands. … 

Thank you for sharing your love and admiration and energy so abundantly, openly. Thank you for making me feel loved. My throat is tightening – I'm learning to notice these things now. You would find it fascinating. Thank you forever and ever. I love you and your flaws. I'm sorry for my shortcomings, and I don't think you're holding it against me. I will muster your energy in the Desert, I know you're rooting for me. 

I see you so much in Kam, you would love him. I can see the two of you losing me in winding conversation, me struggling to remember where we started, which stories we never finished. Maybe your stories were preparing me for the end – there's no conclusion, no answers, no resolution, but I still enjoyed hearing your words and rambles and tears and laughs.  …

Please help me connect with other people who love you. I want to grieve in a community of your loved ones. It's a beautiful sunny day today, and I'm outside. I love you sweetheart. Bless the world. Much gratitude, love, and light.

Feb. 24, 2021
Story Mammal Prompt: What are your language potholes?

I could shift the way I say I'm raw all the time, and have limited/lower capacities/energy. Instead, I'm healing and deep healing, I'm learning my body's new capacities, my new way of being in the World - More heartfelt and deeply aware (not sensitive, that word has negative connotation to me).

My therapist pointed out that I'd said I “took a huge step back” when Cathleen died. Now, I say I took many small steps in a new direction. I kept moving in a new way, as I am now. I need to re-language how I've been saying that I can't show up how I used to / can't do all the things I used to. I'm showing up in a tender way, however I can each day, and it's enough. 

February 27, 2021
We're at dinner and Kam starts to show me a movie and said it was the shrimp something something. I have no idea what he's talking about. 

Then he puts the video away to show me later, but offers a little context – that they release sea creatures that would have been eaten. This must have been where he was today – why he wasn't on the work schedule – but I pause because there's so much missing context: Who? They buy and release in the ocean? Are the animals even going back to native habitat? Why not just become vegetarian? (They occasionally eat meat here.) 

I asked only one: "Who organized this?" and I was “answered” with a brushing away of the hand which said to me: shhh! This is not the right time, how dare you ask this now. Hush. Like I'd broken a sacred rule in asking.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

I'm confused. Why did you even bring up the video if we shouldn't be talking about it at dinner?

Then I could feel my tear glands responding, so I stood up, put my blue bowl with the dirty dishes, and left those Bright Lights the table of 13 chatting bodies, to the dark, safe, outside night sky of stars, where my body breaks into sobs.

I asked myself “Is this life threatening?” No. My life is not in danger. 

Then why am I having such a huge reaction? Why does this feel unbearable? I need a tool, I need a tool, then my hands swung out into a big frame and I slowly brought them together into a postage stamp. The Story Mammal exercise.

Then I touched my legs (“These are my legs, these are my legs”), my arms (“these are my arms”), I walked. Pendulated. I thought back to the interaction and again felt so hurt/wrong/shamed for it. And then I reminded myself Kam was my kind, gentle friend who would never harm me. 

I walked some more. Deep breaths, deep breath. Doubts again: If I'm feeling this attacked from such a harmless gesture, how am I going to make it on the maintenance team of 10 men this summer? How will I be seen when the tears come this easily? Why does my body react in this way? I just remembered I forgot to thank it.

Thank you body for trying to keep me safe. I see you. But we're not in danger right now. I looked up my Story Mammal notes from Molly and put my hand on my shoulder 

I'm angry because THIS IS EXHAUSTING! I miss my old capabilities and strength. I love my new tenderness, but I don't know how it will fit into society, a maintenance job, etc. I asked the universe for a quiet house and quiet housemates when I move to the Desert. Please, blessed Universe, I ask this of you. 

March 1, 2021
End of February Reflection

Learned about Self: Things take different amounts of energy. I don't have to make everyone feel okay all the time - I'm released from the burden. There are many folks here who are welcoming and happy energy. My relationship with Mom is changing, one interaction at a time.

March 3, 2021
[Week 5 of Story Mammal: Your Voice]

Poem Prompt

What lives inside me is gentle, nurturing, and loving.

The one that wants my attention this season is gentleness.

It moves slowly and sometimes morphs into a tree or spiral.

Whenever it gets too much, too fast it can feel like an overflowing within.

My impulse has often been to cry and not talk, or for my left shoulder to flare up.

I find my width, the container of me, when I close my eyes and put my hands on my heart.

My body then wants to inhabit breath.

I noticed I am resourced by the trees, goddesses, and Mom's love.

I move between light and dark like a horse who is strong and graceful about the process.

I cry out like a hot kettle. I laugh like a skirt.

I want to say 'I see you' to all the faces I see.

I want to sing and laugh so everyone knows I'm here.

When I feel for the generations behind me, I hear encouragement; when I look forward, I see light.

For now, right now, I am here. 

March 9, 2021
[Week 6 of Story Mammal: Closure]

Prompt: When have you felt most like yourself?

Walking to the mailbox, feet in rhythm. My body knows without my mind's attention. Songs and melodies flowing in, crafting beautiful essays in my mind. Exploring in the woods, curious about the life around me, knowing I'm connected to it, climbing up, up, to where the sun hits, where I can see out to the ocean! Playing ukulele in the redwoods, singing as loud as I want, for the creek masks my sound from distant ears. Jumping rope with a fire hose with Elias, make-believe with Ever—Lady Aberdeen's servants making Airbnb beds. I am most myself while not needing to describe or explain or present to anyone else. We're here playing in this moment and you get it, or I'm here being in this moment, and there is no one else 

March 20, 2021
Q1 Reflection

What binds you?
The past, feeling unsafe to share my truth (with family), judgment of others, a hard heart, fear of not belonging/being loved/losing ego/identity of a trustworthy, hard worker if I don't perform stupendously.

April 10, 2021
I wanted to document this transition, such that I may be reminded of the changing emotions in the future. Yesterday I felt much sadness and fear, it was head pressure crying and loneliness. disconnect from the excitement those around me were expecting. (Kam, Ever, etc. “Are you excited?” Vicky: “I can't wait”) 

Today I was underslept and not present, feeling lower, starting to go through belongings and pack, counting the hours of work, annoyed at how long the day was taking, and then at 9:00 p.m., I learned from Ever that Jaden's sister died today. Ended her life. Nana is her cat. She spent time here as a child. Now I know why S. left with a backpack and hopped into Jaden's car this afternoon.

I've been oblivious, sucked into my world and transition and family things. Death is a strong reminder, a quick snap back, a rebirth. Oh yes, it can change that irreversibly at any moment. Oh yes, I love people. Oh yes, grief is a deep, hard pain to bear. Oh yes, I can do a move and start a job. I'd be overjoyed to do that instead of have a sibling die.

April 13, 2021
Yesterday I ended up working with Willie, putting in new windows before guests arrive on Wednesday—even though it was a weekend day. I was glad for the distraction—woke up teary and feeling overwhelmed. Woke up raw again today, but luckily had therapy with Helen at 10:00. Named some of the feelings: not feeling excited for the move, as people keep asking me, fears about driving (will traffic be terrible, will car make it, where to sleep, etc.)

–fears about new job: will they give us arrival logistics or will I have to ASK for all this info

–sad to leave friends Ever and Kam, feeling comfortable/safe with people I WANT to spend time with is such a rare gift these last 2 years…

–wanting to be taken care of, in my raw state.

–worried for Ever's state/pain (past trauma & past suicide attempts made for rough weekend)

–Love for Jaden and his family and S.

–Guilt that when we received news of his sister's death, I had been so caught up in my own mind and emotions.

–Guilt that after shock wore off, I'm still enmeshed in these emotions

–All the feelings re: first emails with dad, trying to put to words all these non-verbal experiences over the past 2 years.

And in therapy, I also reminded myself:

• Resilience Elereen and I have, how we trust in our goddess allies

• My past shock at how quickly presents can melt away as I physically drive to new locations

• The move could be all right, not terrible, and I have the strength and resources to feel what comes up, notice it, and still do a good job at work

• My purpose is forgiveness, and through that I will be happy.

• Keep leaning on Earth spirits, and sharing love from authentic place, and all will be well. All is well.

I ordered rhodiola and ashwagandha this morning, and took rhodiola again (from Kam) this morning after a break. If it arrives on time, I'll take it throughout the move.

Also noticed I'd forgotten or just hadn't done gratitude journal the last three nights, so I'm putting that back on top.

In therapy Helen asked what it would look like for someone to “take care of me” and I thought of the care packages that Elizabeth has sent, the mail and texts and prayers Mom sends always, the presence and gifts everyone shares with me here at Black Mountain, and saw how I hadn't seen the care which is harder to see. Mark and mine's friendship. All the people who will reach out if I asked.

I also realized maybe I am a version of a deeply sensing person, moving forward. Maybe I'll be tired a lot in the Desert, maybe my body will adapt. I need to affirm phrases from a lens of love and keep encouraging myself. Root for the heroine in a movie! You can do this Rebecca! You'll meet more incredible people, skills, and have experiences that will continue shaping you. There's lots for you in the Desert. You can always come back to Black Mountain. Endings give space for beginnings. Let go to be reborn and continue transforming. Nothing is solid anyway. My view is full of illusions. My reality is not the Truth. Universe knows I belong in the Desert this summer, and I shall uncover the joys and learnings and friends there. I'll look for clues.

Saturday, April 17 – 3 days left…
On Thursday, I felt stressed, frazzled, and sad to leave when I got an email from PIV saying my credentials were ready. I had the day off (from Monday's windows) so I did laundry (sheets) and started to pack books. I cried a lot and generally didn't feel “good.” I knew too that if I was in a different scenario/context, I would have felt completely different (inner), and that's hard for me. 

But I felt what I felt and it was hard. Ever had lunch with me, she in her own unknown of where to go when her visa expires in a week. Yesterday after the long, early burn day (started at 6:30am), I called Bill (supervisor, big breath) and learned some great intel. I don't need to worry about PIV before I come! Also: I can't move in on the weekend, but can move in on Friday, waking up to a house in the Desert on my birthday! I'm just now seeing the beauty and perfection in that. 

I'm trying to remember my view is imperfect and incomplete. I don't have the Truth or all the facts, so when I think/want things to be different, that's when I most need to remember that actually, I don't have all the info to make the best route. Trust that whatever's happening will teach me what I need to learn. 

And so, as I wind down my time at Black Mountain, goddess and nature allies, I ask that you protect me on my journey and give me strength on this transition. Help me to see my light, to see through the clouds and fog to your bright light – our light – that shines brightly within me always. Thank you for all of your blessings. 

Sunday, April 18
Yesterday after dinner Kam walked down to Mushroom Trail with me, so I could say goodbye. I said that normally I write letters – perhaps that's my “old” normal now – but haven't had the energy that crafting words requires, and have been embracing the impermanence and imperfection of spoken words.

So I said whatever came out in that moment. Easier to speak and not cry when moving alongside someone, as opposed to looking directly at them. When we stopped by the creek, he asked “Do you feel more ready than in February?”. (He'd been there the afternoon I got offered the job, and I'd cried and cried).

I felt my throat tighten and the tears begin to well. I didn't say anything because I knew I'd start to cry.

So I paused.

And paused.

“Do you want to cry?” he asked.

I started to explain that this is just how my body is these days, this just needs to happen, my body's just expressing – but he cut me off and said I didn't need to explain anything.

I was trying to put words to the fear, how low-energy and weak I feel compared to other times in my life, not fully understanding why or what this is or why is my nervous system so sensitive or why this particular move feels so hard and sad and why I feel so raw.

But I didn't have to.

And if I pause to really compare this week with any in March, Feb, Jan, and Dec, I AM stronger. I'm up after dinner and can talk with people! I woke up at 5:45 the other day for a burn, worked like 10 hours, and wasn't nauseous that night. I'm sleeping restfully and dreaming deeply the past few nights. I've been going to puja from 6-7 in the evenings, not wiped from the day. I'm having conversations with Sarah and Jeremiah! This is definite improvement, increased energy. I've been taking Rhodiola this week to help with the transition, and ashwagandha as well.

And that's where we'll leave the journals this week — with Elereen all packed and ready for a couple days drive.

Story Mammal put greater emphasis on story and language.

How am I storying this? Is there a small shift in language that can make this more supportive, more spacious?

I extend that wondering to you today. And if you choose to play, bring it into your body.

When my emerging story was ”I can't do what I used to” and “I'm so raw,” my shoulders drooped in, eyes down, a sinking energy of shame came into my body.

When I shifted my story to “I'm gently taking tiny steps in a new direction,” as a tender human, there was a settling in my body.

The energy of shoulders-drooped was already present most of the time that life-season. So I chose to craft that storyline into one which allowed a few pockets of the settling sensation.

You don't need to write down all your stories and begin editing. (You don't need to do anything!) If you'd like, let one arise. What feels a little crunchy/constricted today? Let it be small.

Play with the thought. Tell it five different ways. Notice how your body responds. Which feels more expansive?

Isn't the fluidness of it all delightful? It's never too late to begin telling a new story!

Okay you all, thank you for being here. Go well and rooted into your days.

Rooting for you,
Rebecca