Helping Hands

Compression is the only way I can describe this last week. Any other word sounds too allegorical and doesn’t sit right. I’ve felt compressed. Every person I reach out to feels the same. Compounded, confused, overwhelmed and drained.

When we are feeling compressed, we want to feel release, in this case weightless. Burdens, worries, responsibility. All of it can go sit over there in the corner for a while so we can breathe. How do we do this safely with a secure base to come back to? I’m still finding my feet. There is a middle ground between oblivion and elevation and it’s a spiral and staircase in one breath to get there. A nostalgic wish to run to a motherly figure to fix it but then reality kicks in and you realize you are the one expected to fix it. So, it reminded me of a woman’s weapons. And how we spectrum the way we use them or don’t utilise them enough.

Our Armor: Makeup, power clothes, shoes, handbags. The modern-day statements to say - ‘I am strong, I am brave, I’ve got this’. Sometimes it’s a child cradled in our arms that offers a simpler protective barrier: I’m tired, I’m scared, please leave me be.

We deflect with our words: Professional, dictate, authorities. Or deflective, pleading, angry.

Feelings and Hearts: Either wide open ready to be shattered, or tightly shut with a wall built from the stones they’ve thrown at us.

Who do we run to when we are breaking? When it’s more than skinned knees or a broken heart. When it’s a world imploding and tightening around us and we are compressed so tightly we cannot see the sun.

We forget to run back to ourselves. Because once upon a time we could fix it all. The secret knowledge of medicine and animal craft to heal most things.

We fix things. But we can break things too.

Mother earth has different weapons: Earthquakes, Tsunami’s, Wildfires, Tornadoes, Hurricanes, Volcanoes.

You can attribute those characteristics to a woman’s emotions when she is broken.

Some of us have to learn early how to protect ourselves when we cannot rely on others. Sometimes we learn the bitter jaded path of revenge.

When we are hurt, we hurt back, when we have been hit, we lash out and when we’ve been scared…we can be terrifying.

Mother earth feels pain too, just like we do.

And in awe we stand back and watch lightning storms, and whirlwinds and eruptions of nature that border on disasters and in the next day it can be calm and serene again. The difference between mother earth and women are that millions of collective conscious souls are waking up to prot ect her. They guard her, love her and treat her as she deserves. They band together and stand together, protesting and fighting for a recyclable waste system, for reduction of destruction and preserving of sacred places.

When did we forget to stand with other women? When did we get to a place where we stood back and judged as they broke and either drifted away in storms of misery or lit themselves in a blaze of fury?

When did we stop embracing each other in a silent acknowledgement and understanding of ‘I see you. I hear you. I can’t fix it but I can sit with you in this place and be by your side until you are ready to step out of it with me’.

Our weapons are our eyes, ears, mouth and hearts.

I see you struggling, I see what you are trying to do and I invite you to walk beside me. You aren’t alone, because I’m trying to find my balance too.

It cycles, up and down, back and forth, but there is a middle ground I promise. I’m finding it. And I don’t ever lose sight of it because I have so many strong women walking the journey alongside me.

We have one more very valuable weapon. Our hands. Reach out when you need, to the people who can help reconnect you with your true authentic self and don’t apologies for getting lost. It gets a little dark in winter, but it doesn’t last.

 

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