My struggle seems to have taken a time-out this morning.
I went to a gong bath last night. My hour long (or slightly longer) meditation spent in darkness, laying on the floor, blanket pulled up, and mask over my eyes, while 8 gongs vibrated, and crystal bowls sang, and drums beat and bells chimed in a wondrous cacophony of healing. I set an intention last night going in. It was to send love to all those in my life, love without strings, just send it to the universe and let the universe decide how to bring it to them. I sent it to S, to my ex husband, to my son, to my friends. To my mother, my sisters. I visualized the pink energy threads spreading out from me, touching these people.
When the tsunami’s came (the tsunami is our name for when the gongs are played with such intensity that the vibrations wash over you like a tsunami, and you cannot hold a thought, whatever needs to bubble up for release is compelled then, there is no escape as the vibration of 8 gongs being wailed on reaches your very cellular level and finds what needs healing and opens the door) I sobbed. For what, I didn’t know, but release is always good, and probably, at the gong bath, more common than not.
I had gone with a friend. It’s nice to have a friend with me, I usually do, but last night I wished I was driving home alone, too many emotions, and none were coherent enough to put into words. So, I let her talk, she is addicted to her phone, and I let her tell me all the funny memes that she was reading as I drove back to where we’d left her car. (“I put $1 in an envelope every time my wife and I have sex, and what’s in there is all I’m spending on her for Christmas. So far she’s getting a cup of coffee.”) The time passed amicably.
Then I got stuck in traffic. They are doing major major highway reconstruction at night, and it held me up a good half hour. The emotions which the gongs shook to the surface began to appear, like a wound that won’t close. I longed once more for what never would be, I couldn’t find a pathway between what I know I can accept and what I want more than anything. I felt like all those pink threads that I sent out were pulling on me, painfully, 100 little threads pulling my heart apart. Struggle.
I sent out a text, to which there was no response. Understandably, but still, painfully silent.
When I got home, late, because of the traffic, I wept as I wrote “Only You”. More release.
I climbed into bed, and tried to read. My book club is reading “The Sacred Year” by Michael Yankovich. I wasn’t crazy about it at first, but I like it more and more as I read. His year becomes a deeper and deeper search into his soul. Finally, I shut the light out, it was late, I was exhausted. But the struggle seems to like that time, when I am tired and it’s late, to make me think about it.
I have been trying to wean myself off of the Ambien to sleep. Started with the carpal tunnel, because it helped me sleep through a lot of the pain. Last weekend I made it through a night without it. But not since. I tried last night, but lay there, with a knot in my heart and the pit of my stomach, and finally got out of bed and took one more, so I wouldn’t be up all night, struggling.
I was thinking then, that I might ask for something today, that would probably not serve me well, except it would stop the pain, for a little while. Not having any resolution but thanks to the Ambien, I fell soundly asleep for 6 hours.
This morning, it seems, the gongs work becomes evident. What bubbled up last night, what was pulled out of me at the very cellular level, needed to come up, and I needed to release it. While I still feel the struggle, it is not so fresh, not like a new wound again. More like one that is healing, a wound that brings bittersweet memories with it, but is healing, not bleeding anymore.
And really, who knows which wound causes the struggle? There are many, we all have many. I have chosen one, it seems, at which to direct my emotions. I think, really, the struggle is multi-faceted, and not completely caused by present moment events.
I was surprised to walk out on my deck at 6 AM this morning and find the world shrouded in fog. As if some greater power knew I needed this time alone, no distractions of bright golden sunrises, or even morning stars. I know they are there, I know I will see them again, but I needed to focus on this this morning .
It is good to regain my focus, and to think I can move forward in letting go of things that have not served me, even if I love them. I will always love them. And that’s a good thing. To love without attachment. I’m trying, anyway.