Bearable Lightness
written by: Fay L. Loomis
I had a stroke seven years ago and became handicapped. My world shrunk to a cubicle, and I began to feel a physical and psychological heaviness hover over me. I recently discussed this mild depression with my general practitioner. She suggested psychotherapy.
While her recommendation didn’t click, I agreed to look for a therapist and found one I resonated with. Nevertheless, I still didn’t feel like I was on the right track. I told the therapist I would keep her number and call if I decided on a consultation.
Several months passed, the weight lingered. Then I got an email from the Holistic Health Community announcing their monthly free offerings. The organization is located in Stone Ridge, New York. I immediately jumped at the opportunity to have a session with Kathleen C. Mandeville who practices Family Constellation healing. I learned of this methodology many years ago when my husband, Evarts G. Loomis, M.D., and I were lecturing at a conference in Germany on holistic medicine. We were magnetized by fellow lecturer Bert Hellinger, originator of this healing form, as we watched him work with a group of people on stage.
Kathleen is a minister, writer, and much more. She believes that we all possess innate intelligence and through constellation work we are able to find a shift in perspective, rather than a solution, a revelation of what we often don’t acknowledge. “This is where we discover our capacity to tap into a larger, more essential truth. This frees us to embrace life’s invitation to live our potential, less entangled in the knots of the past.”
I was ready.
We settled into chairs at the healing facility, and Kathleen explained that she worked intuitively. She began asking questions that seemed without context, jotting down random squiggles on a piece of paper. Surprisingly, I was completely comfortable with her process.
At some point, she stated with a quickness, “You live alone and are attached to the sacred, like an anchorite.”
While I would not have characterized myself in this way, my soul hummed with her words. My mind flicked to the only anchorite I had ever heard of: Julian of Norwich. Someone once gave me a paperweight with one of Julian’s sayings and that inspired me to read about her life.
Julian lived in permanent seclusion in a cell attached to St. Julian’s church in Norwich, England, during the Middle Ages. Her religious experiences are the earliest known English writings composed by a woman.
“I love what you just said,” I told Kathleen.
She asked if I was game to write on the thought. I felt momentarily inhibited, though I am a writer. I coaxed myself to accept her request and unequivocally said, “Yes.”
She suggested I write at the top of a piece of paper the prompt “heaviness, living alone, attached to the sacred, like an anchorite,” and then write about the idea for seven or eight minutes.
I was surprised when my time was up. The words had effortlessly flowed into three short paragraphs. I read aloud to Kathleen what I had just written.
Perhaps my heaviness would lift if I envisioned myself as one who has chosen to be an anchorite, purposefully attached to the sacred. For, I do adore what is sacred, holy, my essence, my being and the essence, spirit of all beings.
Rather than think of myself as being forced to be still, limited, cut off from much of what used to nourish me.
Is it activity or stillness that is ultimately my source of strength? Activity may distract my mind, force darkness away. However, stillness brings peace, a fullness of spirit.
“Thank you,” she said. That’s exactly what I needed to hear right now.”
I was stunned by my words, her response to them—and how light I felt. Through this enigmatic process, I unconsciously shifted my thinking. I had, indeed, tapped into a truth that freed me.
Reflecting on my experience, I also feel like I leaned into what was weighing me down, a technique that Tibetan Buddhist Pema Chodron recommends when we are challenged.
I asked Kathkleen if she had a card. She rummaged around in her enormous bag and handed me a purple and blue card which read: OUTER EDGE, LEARNING TO LOVE THE UNKNOWN.
That’s what we had just accomplished.
How perfect.
NOTE:
Based on the Prompt – Write about a hidden door that changes everything
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