Showing posts with label mother earth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mother earth. Show all posts

Monday, April 13, 2020

Healing for the Earth, Day 29: The Healing Power of Mother Nature by Guest Blogger Priscilla Lowery

Dear fellow Earthlings,

Wow are we lucky to have Priscilla Lowery here to tell us about her deeply personal journey with Mother Nature. I can so relate and feel, being out here in Sequim, WA, how very needed Mother Nature is for us Earthlings right now! She has so many messages for us. Thank you for sharing your beautiful journey with us Priscilla.



Carl Jung wrote, “Every country or people has its own angel, just as the earth has a soul.” These words ring true with me and my words can never be enough to express the profound healing power of our Mother Earth, her plants, trees and animals––the mystery of it all and our interconnectedness of being here. I remember once being asked, who was my first teacher. I replied, “Nature. Nature was my first good and true teacher.” For me all of God is revealed in nature. To illustrate Nature’s healing power, I will share some of my personal story about what happened to me when I began to face and heal from early childhood abuse and neglect.

 In November of 2014, I experienced what psychologists call on the DMS5 a ‘Psycho-Spiritual Crisis’––yes, it is a real diagnosis. Later, I would learn, there are actually many spiritual names for such an event and that ancient tribal traditions all over the world understand and have healing rituals for receiving and guiding individuals through this kind of crisis. However, here in the West, we are ill-prepared and prone to distancing ourselves from those in crisis. It’s understandable, as we have been severed from such healing practices and lost touch with our indigenous selves. Even in my Quaker circles, where mystical experiences are often revered and used in teaching, it became quite apparent to me that it was unacceptable to have a modern-day mystical experience. After all, as one leader told me, when I tried to share, “We can’t trust everyone’s spiritual experience.” At that time, I only knew myself as a Quaker and practiced contemplative prayer. This was disheartening to me as I was already feeling very isolated. I had no ground to stand on, or so I thought.

That November of 2014, I was attending a Jungian Healing weekend sponsored by my Quaker brothers and sisters, whom I love dearly. While participating in a psycho-drama exercise, I relived a repressed childhood trauma. It was violent. Without knowing how I got there, I found myself lying on the floor and it felt as though I had been shocked from my feet up through my head. It was such an electrical force that my head splintered with a headache and my eyeballs and ears felt on fire. I became ice cold, my teeth chattered, and my body shook as though I was in shock––mostly likely I was. Words screamed from me that I did not know were stored deep inside by body. Later, I would describe the amazing feeling of having an enormous piece of me return—what I now know was a kind of spontaneous soul retrieval or what some may call a gift from The Holy Spirit–I called it a ‘ballroom for dancing!’ as the space was seemingly endless. After the experience, I began having odd physical symptoms and psychological/spiritual phenomena that led me into a state of crisis. I went to the only spiritual teachers I had access to––Quaker pastors and tried to tell them what had happened. They lovingly listened, but I could not make words describe the mythological experience. They didn’t understand and I began to feel very isolated, so I hid what was going on as best I could. It was as though I had gone somewhere amazing, had the lights turned on for just a second and upon return had no one to receive, guide, or believe me. Every self-identified and rigid construct that I had built to support my life crumbled away and I felt as though I was drowning. I would not wish anyone’s personal transformation to be so sudden and violent. The counselor/healer, who saved my life, called it, “A giant bitch-slap from the universe!”

 In the first two weeks after the event, I felt the most profound sense of oneness and love. I was inseparable from it and I went about telling people how loved they are. I wanted to touch everyone and tell them this truth. The love was so strong that nothing bothered me and for a time all judgement fell away. I could see the palpable suffering on people’s faces. I wanted them to know they can be healed. I really believed they could understand. In the first few days, several people saw light come out of my eyes and others began to cry when I talked to them, but I also made some people uncomfortable. I learned to stop. I could see my own crazy. In the coming months I found myself in a space of no time and I described time as having viscosity–a thing one could touch. As I began to come out of that liminal space, I had panic attacks and referred to myself as “she”. For a while, there seemed to be no “I”. This trauma-induced descent to soul was akin to a near-death experience and after an initial bliss state, I was plunged into dark despair and I began to disintegrate. I was riding a roller coaster of emotional upheaval that took me to the depth of a planned suicide where all I could think of was returning “HOME” to the greatest height of joy I had ever experienced. It was a state of nonattachment to this world that I cannot explain and there is no fear of death in that space. In the early months of this painful birth, I didn’t know how to find help. I spent a lot of time shaking. Even though I had a wonderful counselor, I couldn’t seem to get a handle on myself. I was at the mercy of an unseen process and was learning to surrender.

 On March 28th of 2015, I opened the door of my sons’ abandoned and uninsulated tree house. It was cradled in the arms of an eighty-year-old apple tree. Without thinking, I announced, “I am so moving in here!” That evening, I asked my family not to take it personally and assured them their needs would still be met. I lived in the treehouse for ninety days. During that year, I could not bear any news or any negativity—it physically hurt me. I wore headphones and sunglasses all the time to dampen the sensory overload of our modern world. I actually felt sound as pain in my body. Nature was my healing balm. In the treehouse, I studied spiritual texts, received guidance from spirits in dreams, and accessed the inner medicine that widened my Quaker circle to include Shamanic, Sufi, and Buddhist teachings. In a book by Dr. Stanislof Grof, I learned about the Spiritual Emergency Network (SEN). I was so desperate for someone to help and understand me that I contacted them. To my surprise, they replied and put me to work with a transpersonal psychologist, who spent many hours over several months interviewing me, teaching me, and “normalizing” my experience over Skype. He had done his PHD dissertation on Kundalini and explained that this is what had happened to me. It was comforting to find someone, in addition to my counselor, who understood. In one session, the doctor asked me, “How did you survive the initial onslaught of energy?” I laughed and told him that I returned to my first love and she saved me. “Who was that, he asked”. “Mother Nature,” I replied. I told him about how I would rise before dawn and drive to the hiking trail at the Trappist Abbey and walk four miles barefoot every morning, so that I could make myself stay and keep serving my family and students. I had a deep inner knowing that running away was not the answer. I told him how I would lay down on the ground, so as much of my body could touch the earth as possible. Laying on the earth and laying my body against trees would calm panic attacks that arose during the healing process. It seemed intuitive and natural to do this. I have since learned that shamans in some cultures would bury very ill people in the ground with only their faces showing in order for the person to receive as much as the earth’s healing power as possible.

 I told this psychologist about my fascination with what I called, “The Love Incarnate leaves” on the trees and how when I was really needing comfort, I would sit in the boughs of our Red Oak Tree in our back yard. I told him about how the plants don’t speak with words, but rather vibrations and that they love us and communicate vibrationally. I told him that I didn’t know how to fit into this world anymore and that I just really didn’t want to be here and wanted to go home. This doctor listened patiently and without judgement. He did not tell me I was crazy. What he told me was this, “My God, I’ve been teaching all my courses at Stanford out of order! Ecopsychology needs to be first.” He taught me to record my dreams and learn from them. Among the countless valuable teachings I received from him, he said, “You need to find your tribe.”

“Where are they?” I asked. He gave me several suggestions and assured me, “You’ll know them when you find them.” That’s what led me to my first Shamanic workshop with Hank Wesselman. When I first met Hank, I sidled up to him at one of the outdoor picnic tables in front of the lodge at Breitenbush Hot Springs. I remember nervously telling him about the spirits that had visited me. “Do you think I’m crazy?” I inquired. “You’re in the right place, kid,” was his affectionate reply. Little by little over these past few years I have been learning to live as Zen Master, Chozen Bays told me, “In the world with a big left foot and a small right foot.” I am so grateful for all of my teachers—from the Quaker and Sufi mystics to the Buddhist somatic meditation practices that continue to support my healing journey. I am just an ordinary person committed to freeing myself from my own faulty thinking. I do this daily through prayer, gratitude, and meditation like so many of you. As Earth Day approaches, I am most grateful for our healing earth––here to support each of us until the day our physical bodies return to her.

 Over those ninety days in the treehouse, I watched the emergence of buds on limbs turn into blossoms. I watched blossoms turn into tiny green apples. I harvested and ate those apples. During that time of living in the arms of the apple tree, I was replanted, went through growing pains and pruning, blossomed, and wondered what it meant to fruit as a human on this earth. My first counselor/healer once asked me, “Why are you here?” The answer was so very clear. “I am here to love well.”

 Being human isn’t easy and loving well is what each of us is ultimately called to do. We will make mistakes. We will say the wrong things and constantly fall into our pre-conditioned patterns that extend back through generations. We will even hurt people, including ourselves, but once we can see this, we can respond, change, and grow from the lessons. We are truly perfect in our imperfection. We are all on a journey to learn to fall in love with ourselves, not in an egotistical manner, but in the same way we view the wonders of creation because we are not separate. In the space of awareness, love is always here manifesting itself through Mother Nature. “The world has a soul,” and the great mystery is that we humans, too, are the manifestation of that soul’s love. Whether open to it or not, love is always here for us.

 The following poem during that time of living in the tree.

 Breath Brand New 
 4/25/15

Mystery is knowing I’ve been invited
To the Grove of Titans
Two Thousand year-old liminalists
Calling me to come

They live in secret
No physical map to take me over their threshold
So I must close my eyes to enter

Barefoot on forest duff
A quiet so still
An encasing silence
A doorway to the Eternal

Laying down
And gazing up at Sacred
Become entwined in the sensual boughs
Lifting me through descending mist
Surfacing, I take and hear my breath
Brand new
From the hands of Giant John the Baptists

 Priscilla Lowery lives outside Portland, Oregon and is a teacher specializing in dyslexia. She teaches students of all ages to read using a multisensory language program. When not working with her students, she enjoys backpacking, gardening, and writing poetry. She is currently studying somatic meditation and trauma healing techniques with the goal of helping others heal from trauma. She feels especially called to work with children. Priscilla decided to share this very personal story because she wants those in healing roles: pastors, teachers, and healers who are front-line responders to become more knowledgeable about the depth of the human psyche and its incredible capacity to heal with guidance and love.

Thursday, April 9, 2020

Healing for the Earth, Day 25: Death is a Part of Life by Guest Blogger Mae Esteban

Dear fellow Earthlings,

Wow! So much to think about as our Earth and lives go through this transition. My dear friend Mae Esteban, a hospice nurse, is here to tell us a powerful story of embracing transitions, including death, with grace.



When my dear friend and fellow Earth Sister Katherine asked me if I would be interested in writing for her blog, part of me jumped at the opportunity yet a part of me felt like, “What would I have to say that hasn't already been said?” I hesitated but then had a dream. Something was forming in my heart that wanted to be said.....

 I have many roles but one of the more prominent ones is my role as a hospice nurse. I work for a healthcare system in the greater Seattle area. Like everyone else, I am learning new ways of being in my different roles during this time of COVID-19. And despite the presence of the novel coronavirus, I still see my patients at their homes, wherever they may live, and help them during their end-of-life journeys. Some journeys are only a few hours while some can take several months. I have many stories that I could share but today I want to share the story of one particular person.

 I recently had a patient whom I've had the honor and privilege to care for pass away. I cannot tell you details as it would otherwise be a HIPAA violation and because of this, I will call my patient Robin. I met Robin weekly for several months. Robin was alert, oriented, ambulatory, and always, ALWAYS, had a smile for me. Not all my patients are like Robin. Many of them are bedridden and confused. I say this without any judgment as everyone's story is different. However, because Robin was the way Robin was, I got to know their personality quite well. I got to know not only Robin but also their spouse. Sometimes our visits felt more like social calls. We shared opinions of local restaurants. We talked politics. I made them laugh with the story of how my kids and I ate a whole Costco-sized red velvet cake on Valentine's Day, and they encouraged me to do it again! One of my favorite memories was when they shared with me the story of how they met more than 30 years ago. We all knew that if we had met under different circumstances, we would have been dear friends rather than patient-patient's spouse-and-nurse.

 If it wasn't for the increasing pain and lethargy, one might have doubted that Robin had a life-ending disease. But I knew, and Robin knew. It was for this reason that Robin, with the support of their spouse, had sought to exercise their right to use the Death with Dignity Act. (Here in the state of Washington, individuals can choose to end their life. There are many requirements and the individual needs to have met with two physicians.) Robin's pain had been escalating and every time we increased their pain medications, Robin would be comfortable for only a few days before their body rebelled and even more pain medication was required. Because of the public health's need to flatten the curve, our hospice program could no longer utilize some of the alternative or complimentary therapies we frequently used such as reiki or music thantology.

 After a horrible night which including the medics being called to lift Robin off the floor after a fall, Robin had decided it was time to take the medicine that would end their life. Robin's spouse called me that morning and so I drove over. I got all geared up in my car with my gloves, goggles, and mask, hating every second of it. Not only was it uncomfortable, but I hated the barriers it would create during our final moments together. Yet as much as I hated it, I also knew that I had a responsibility to the general public. I donned the PPE (personal protective equipment) that I was blessed to have and got out of my car. While the outside world dealt with the COVID-19 crisis, I entered Robin's home and the sanctuary that was their bedroom, staying aware of the present moment, realizing this gift of a final good-bye.

 Robin had not yet taken the life-ending medicine but was planning to do so soon. They laid in bed wearing their nasal cannula that provided supplemental oxygen and greeted me with a smile. My god, I loved that smile! I walked over and sat on a chair next to the bed. I knew that I was no longer following the 6-feet social distancing rule; but like my medical director likes to say, right now many things are a compromise. So while I was willing to wear the PPE, I was not willing to say good-bye from afar. At that moment, 6 feet may as well have been 6 miles.

 It was just the two of us in the room, though Robin's spouse preemptively brought in a box of tissues. The tissue was more for Robin since I couldn't remove my googles to use one. (By the way, crying in goggles sucks.) I had asked Robin if they wanted me present when they took the medicine and in that unselfish Robin way, they replied, “Well, what do you want?” I told them it was THEIR journey and after a pause and a smile, Robin said, “It's ok,” signaling the preference for it to be just them and a few close family members. During our remaining time together and through the tears, we held hands and I thanked them for allowing me to share these last few months with them. I told them how throughout this journey, they had shown nothing but courage and grace. I could see that they were at peace with the decision to move on. Before I left, Robin said to me, “I don't know what's on the other side, but I do hope we see each other again.” These words will forever be etched on my heart.

 Three hours later, I was notified that Robin had died.

 So what does this story have to do with healing the Earth?

 First, it's a reminder that death is a part of life. That the opposite of death is birth, not life. So to truly embrace life, one must be able to embrace death. Robin embraced life to the fullest. Robin enjoyed going outside in their garden and enjoyed good food. Their spouse always made Robin's favorite meals as they never knew when Robin's last meal would be. And just as they embraced life, Robin embraced death. There was no fear in the end. There was acceptance and with that came peace. So to help heal the Earth, we need to understand and accept that part of the Earth's cycle includes death.

 Secondly, it's a reminder that the death of anything is always followed by transformation. This will be true for Robin's spouse as they integrate their loss and grief into their new way of being. This will be true for me as I fondly remember my many visits with Robin and the lessons learned from them. This will be true for all of us who are witnessing death first hand in so many levels - whether it's the end of a business or employment, or the end of a way of living we once knew, or the end of the life of someone close to us. If we are to help heal the earth, we have to choose to transform into a new way of being that is healthy for us all – all of mankind regardless of race, religion, age, gender, or sexual orientation; all of nature including plants, animals, bodies of water, and even the rocks; and mostly for our Mother Earth. This transformation has to occur to us as individuals and us as a collective society. So I ask you now, while the Earth is in the middle of a huge transformation, how will you respond? Will you be like Robin who accepted death and faced their transition with courage and grace? Robin, I don't know what's on the other side either, but I do hope to meet each transition I encounter with as much courage and grace as you did. I need to do so for myself, for my kids, for all future generations, and for Mother Earth.

So I ask you now, while Earth is in the middle of a huge transformation, how will you respond? Will you be like Robin who accepted death and faced their transition with courage and grace?

Robin, I don't know what's on the other side either, but I do hope to meet each transition I encounter with as much courage and grace as you did. I need to do so for myself, for my kids, for all future generations, and for Mother Earth.



Mae Esteban has been a registered nurse for 24 years with the last 8 in hospice. She is the single mother of two and is passionate about living life's adventures with them. She enjoys traveling and has been many places including the top of Mt Kilimanjaro. She loves learning about different spiritual traditions, religions, and philosophies and finding the beauty in each one. Other interests include reading, watching Marvel movies and DC tv, and taking photographs. Mae also wrote a beautiful piece on my other blog, Lessons from the Monk I Married, as part of 365 Inspirations that I wrote there. It's about the Wake Up Festival she attended. Here it is: http://lessonsfromthemonkimarried.blogspot.com/2013/08/365-inspirations-241-wake-up-festival.html