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Posts Tagged ‘dance’

As anyone who does healing work knows…you step on to this path because it is you yourself that needs healing. For me I didn’t just step on to a healing path, I hit the ground running.

I started smoking at 11 years old. Fifteen years later as I entered school for Physical Therapy my habit was up to two packs a day. Although I made many attempts to stop it was stepping into a healing profession that helped me finally call it quits. How could I help others heal their body if I could not help myself? So I started running. A few years later I finished the NYC marathon in 3 1/2 hours. I awoke to the healing wisdom of the body.

My personal healing has intimately intertwined with my work in the world. I shifted beyond the borders of traditional Physical Therapy as my work became strongly influenced by my personal evolution in Thai massage, yoga, meditation, breathwork, shamanism. My work had traversed far from my roots leaving me with an identity crisis of sorts. Most people came to see me through the western medical system. There was some understanding of what to expect when going to see a physical therapist. What I often heard was this is not what I thought physical therapy was going to be like at all. I struggled to define my work through the confines of physical therapy that gave me a license I could rely on to bring me income. A simple equation of risk versus security.

A pivotal question posed by a mentor pushed me further into the unknown. How do you intend to bring your wisdom into the world? Spirit nudged even stronger. I began offering ceremonies online breaking free from the spiritual closet where most of my work remained hidden. The ceremonies caught the attention of Melissa McNair, co-director of Feathered Pipe. The message left on my voicemail one day was nothing short of a divine calling. Would I be interested in weaving ritual and ceremony during the Empowerment Camp at Feathered Pipe? Spirit opened a public portal to step into the role of a medicine woman. All I had to do was walk through.

A sacred assemblage of souls gathered in June. In the deep beauty of Montana our most courageous hearts stretched wide weaving the dark of the New Moon with the light of the Summer Solstice. Held in the incubating elements of Pachamama; water, earth, fire, air, it became very clear we were in a deep process of birthing. As we breathed the holy breath, journeyed to the womb in a consecrated cave, we prayed, we laughed, we screamed, we cried, we sang, we danced, we healed, we birthed.

Through the magic of Feathered Pipe we emerged anew.

Photographer Alison Postighone

Photographer Alison Postighone

A personal pachakuti, or cycle of time, had come to an end. An initiation that began some 25 years earlier. The completion of one cycle meant the start of another. A medicine woman birthed into the world. A birth of the soul pouring forth from the heart. A heart that has lived long enough to have itself torn apart. A heart whose essence holds the power to endure.

I came to see how I had shaped my work to be less than in a western model of medicine that had no space for Spirit. What I was shaping was the voice of the Sacred Feminine, diminished by culture, conditioned through belief systems, science, religion, ancestors and wounds in an attempt to thwart her power. The earliest voice of my feminine was manipulated by a masculine determined to keep dominion over a home ruled by alcohol. The light of my truth could not hold a gaze to the blind eye of booze.

This external power play of masculine domination over a suppressed feminine internalized itself twisting my voice in self-doubt. Is what I see real? What I feel true? My body armored itself against her sovereign flow of feeling. The dark, tangled mess of emotions were deemed worthless, abandoned to deep recesses of heart and soul. Mind, steel sharp control and all that was rational served as the hallmark to success.

The voice of my internal masculine thwarted my power, belittled my feelings and abolished my needs. My worth was measured in doing. What certificate or letter I could place next to my name marked my accomplishments as if my very own existence required some stamp of approval from an authority outside of myself.

The ruling tyranny of a masculine dominated inner world has seen its end, within me and around me. It is the sacred feminine that is resurrecting now. There is no diploma to mark this passage. No letters to place after my name. Spirit is the teacher. Life is the initiation. Suffering is the school.

The external voices of oppression still exist. The ones that believe the notion of a medicine woman means I have completely lost my mind. It is not up to me to change those voices but rather to find the courage within so the voice that diminishes has no power over me. The voice that belittles what it cannot understand is no longer relevant in my life.

It is time for both the masculine and feminine to rise, to dance within in ways never before seen thereby shifting the way we move in the world.

AHO my friends! AHO!

Karen Chrappa
Author of A Structure for Spirit
www.karenchrappa.com

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