trust

I recently spent a sunny afternoon gazing up in awe at the simplistic beauty of a lighthouse. It stood tall and proud against the crashing waves, ready to weather another storm as sentinel upon the cliff.

It was a fairly clear day, lacking most of the coastal fog. Looking out over the water, I sensed ethereal silhouettes of bygone ships that had traversed those choppy waters from the time the lighthouse lamp was first lit in 1873. Even in the bright midday sun, it continued flashing its beacon of light, reaching out to guide those who became vulnerable to the whims of the waves. The lighthouse could be trusted 24 hours a day to send out its never ending pulse. I had watched it the night before from the hotel room balcony, mesmerized by its rhythm; two seconds on, two seconds off, two seconds on, and 14 seconds off.

And there I was the next afternoon, standing in the sunlight and within arm’s reach of the lighthouse. Even though I was unable to see the flashing light, I found myself just as captive as I had been captivated the night before.

How many times had I been like the ships on the crest of a wave, holding my breath in moments of vulnerability, when I knew more than ever it was time to trust. When I really had no choice but to trust.

Dare to Trust.

Trust is precious and more easily broken than it is earned. Trust is something I struggle with every day. Trust frightens me because to trust means I am allowing myself to become vulnerable to betrayal. Many of my fears and difficulty with trust are based on past experiences such as abandonment by both of my parents as a young child. Many of my basic needs were not met and oftentimes I went hungry.

Dare to Trust once again.
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Trust is complex and delicate. I’ve seen trust lead to success but I’ve also seen it lead to loss and sorrow. To make the brave decision and go all in means I must set down my battle sword and shield. I must remove my armor and place it aside. The possibility of being wounded, to have my heart crash upon the rocks, is a powerful driving force reminding me of my priorities, my loyalties, and most of all, my worthiness.

Dare to Trust that I am worthy of love.

I know how badly I want to fully trust, but in the same vein I also know how badly I want others to trust me. When I stand strong like the lighthouse, I can trust that others will choose to do the same. I can trust in my resiliency to bounce back from hurt. I can trust that I have learned from past experiences. I can trust in the goodness of other people. I can trust in the Goddess. And I know without a moment of hesitation that others can trust in me.

Dare to Trust that I am not alone.

Many Blessings on your Journey )O(

This morning, after my shower, I wrapped a towel around my hair and another towel around my body. As I was about to leave the bathroom I stopped, because out of the blue, like a slap on the butt, I decided to do something completely out of character. I dropped the towel I had wrapped around my body and courageously stood in front of the bathroom mirror naked as I wiped the steam from the mirror unveiling my body; baring it all.

I don’t spend a lot of time looking at my naked self. I’m not sure if it’s pure avoidance, some kind of shame or form of embarrassment. Maybe it’s simply fear, because fear will branch out into all of those other things; (avoidance, shame, embarrassment). But there’s a part of me that is downright angry at my body because when the pain flares up and things seem like they’re spinning out of control, I feel so fragile; like a raw egg that could crack at any moment. But I was tired of looking the other way unless I was clothed and in front of a full length mirror.

On the contrary, at this moment I stood facing myself, looking into my own eyes. Was I seeking an ally? Some sort of approval? Would I find that part of myself that sees beauty in all things, even the physical me? I think I did find it because I took a deep breath and relaxed, allowing my eyes to move slowly along my body.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the deep surgical scar that ran vertically from my navel down to my pubic bone. The evidence of a failed back surgery. My gaze then wandered across my lower abdomen, along the faded yet thick scars from two C-sections. Just above those were five small incision scars scattered across my lower belly from a laparoscopic uterine lysis surgery to remove scar tissue adhesions.

Then across my torso were four puncture-like scars from when I had my gallbladder removed. There was a small scar that ran under my left breast from a cyst removal when I was fourteen. I knew without looking that I had a five inch scar down the middle of my back from another failed back surgery; the one that caused permanent nerve damage.

Ah yes, I mustn’t forget the faded stretch marks that had inched their way across my belly and ended in thin tendrils along my hips.

What I was looking at was a roadmap of my life.

Then in a flash of clarity, like another slap on the butt, came the realization that my avoidance of looking at my body wasn’t just the physical scars, my widened hips, my enlarged breasts that fed and nourished my children, or the little laugh lines forming next to my eyes.

It was the lack of willingness to really see.

Each of those things are filled with strength, hope, survival, nourishment, laughter, love, and life itself.

Each one of those things are a facet of me.

I looked again, this time more closely at myself and searched for the strong woman that I know I am. I want to get out of the habit of feeling like a failure as a wife, a mother, and a witch. I must truly look at myself and honor my many strengths while acknowledging my many weaknesses. I know in my heart that I need to surrender and trust in the fact that my physical body, even though its limitations and pain, holds me and supports me through the good times and the bad.

I want to enrich my life and let go of The fear, judgement, and the ugliness of self-doubt that holds me back from living my life to the fullest. Gazing into the reflection of my own eyes, I saw the warmth and comfort within. Now is the time to shed away all that doesn’t serve me. This will be a perfect starting point on my journey towards re-balancing and repairing my body, mind, and spirit.

I am not a failure. I am a strong, independent, loving woman and I need to be proud of all the things I have lived through and fought for in my life. It’s time for me to be proud of all the things I am currently living through and fighting for at this moment and those moments yet to come.

I then spoke gently to myself.

“You will no longer be a victim. You can face your pain and fear head on because you’ve done it all of your life; you just didn’t realize you were successful at it. You now know you are. You no longer have to pretend you’re not in pain or overwhelmed. It’s okay, and it doesn’t make you a failure. It’s time to claim loving acceptance of your physical body, trust in the knowledge your mind now holds, and align with your spirit exactly as you are.”

Only I have the power, knowledge, and control to overcome the obstacles in my life to promote healing on every level.

Now, where do I begin? Hmmm….Actually, I think I already have.

Many Blessings on Your Journey )O(

The Zen Witch

A Beacon of Light; a Lesson in Trust

Baring it All