Just before leaving the Caribbean to move to New Zealand, I went swimming with a couple of friends. The sea doesn’t draw me in the way a lake or cold mountain stream does, and since I don’t like water in my ears I’m also not terribly drawn to swimming in general. So I have to work to get into any water and was somewhat reluctant, but I went because I wanted to spend time with friends who enjoy swimming. I also recognized — and wanted to stretch — that edge in myself. I found that wearing earplugs and goggles helped me feel more comfortable and even enjoy the magic of the underwater world a bit more.
It was the time of year for tropical storms, which muddy the waters and make the sea critters more skittish. As we approached the edge of this rock-sheltered pool-like area, my two friends were in a heated political debate, one particularly on fire about whatever the issue was. Once in the water we wandered off on our separate ways and, as I swam, I encountered a barracuda with, what appeared to be, its baby. It had a steely, many-toothed fierceness about it so I gave it a wide berth and headed towards the outer edge of the rock shelter in search of the legendary local octopus.
Suddenly I heard my name being screamed behind me. I flipped around to see my friend, the one that had been particularly heated up over the politics, swimming backwards with big, flailing arm strokes. Whatever she was swimming away from I was most likely going to be swimming towards to reach her, but I did it anyway. I’m pretty quick in a dash, but by the time I reached her she was already pacing along the shoreline, one arm above her head like a flag — a red flag that fluttered downwards, spilling blood from her hand. That barracuda had turned on her. Maybe it was her sparkly jewelry, or maybe it was her bright orange swimsuit, or maybe it was the bright sparks of energy fueling her determined laps along the length of the natural pool. Who knows.
That incident stands out as an experience of what it’s like to be in a soup of disturbance. This is how the world feels to me right now — like a soup of disturbance. There have been lashing storms, the waters are stirred up, any clear view of safe harbor is obfuscated, and gauging the energy of others within this turbulent environment is not always easy. Many critters are on the defense and some are even on the offense. Fear pervades the ethers and many people are acting out of feeling threatened, instead of from a centered & confident place.
The vibration with which we enter an already erratic and fraught environment
may very well determine what comes next.
Yet if we haven’t claimed sovereign right to control our own terra, our own selves, we’re not only stirred up internally, we’re also swayed by the increased storms externally.
If we imagine we live in water the way the animals in the sea do, then we can begin to see that the task of separating out what is “ours” from what is all around us, touching every possible surface of us, is nearly impossible. Especially if you have no awareness of where ‘you’ end & the environment begins. Unity consciousness says that we are all one, that these edges and distinctions are agreed upon but not actually provable. At the same time, we are co-habitating a world that we have agreed does have these distinctions — this is my body and that is your body — so we know that claiming self-harm as an alibi in a murder case is simply not going to hold up in court. We agree that we live in separate bodies, yet we are also extremely easily affected by the collective soup of consciousness.
I’ve realized (more) lately that, for whatever reason, I have to work harder to set these boundaries. “I” have all-ways seemed to bleed into everything and everyone else. This is a great super-power when it comes to understanding others with empathy and supporting others with action. That same super-power becomes a liability and an energy-drain when I absorb whatever is swirling around me without actively choosing to. Learning to energetically separate from others has been an invaluable (& on-going) lesson in my self-development on this planet. One of my favorite ways of doing this is through sound.
In this free video I talk about my own recent experiences of using sounding practices to shift from fearful and contracted states to calm and confident ones. Sound travels so well through water and we are something like 72% water. If it’s important to you, you’ll find the science behind why this works, but what I always come back to is my own experience. I experiment on myself. How do I feel before, during and after a practice? Is it just as effective the 2nd, 3rd or 107th time I do the practice? These days I have sounds, songs even, that I know do certain things.
I consider Sounds to be like tools in my tool belt, or weapons in my super-heroine arsenal.
I use these tools/weapons as often as I need to, to remain centered in a spinning-off-center world.
Thing is, you can have all the latest or fanciest tools in the world, but unless you learn them and actually use them, you remain powerless to build your dream home, or repair that thing worth repairing, or make that meal to feed your family. In that same video I guide you through a lie-on-the-floor-&-hum-level-of-easy practice. It benefits both of us. I get to give you something of value to help you help yourself to re-center, balance your hormonal system, and reestablish your sovereignty. And you get to experiment and experience for yourself one tool of the Sounds module that has 24 other tools, so you can try-before-you buy.
If you use it, I’d love to hear about your experience. If you have other tools that already work for you, I’d love to hear about those too. What is a go-to practice for you that centers you confidently in yourself and enables you to navigate this increasingly stormy world?