Each day we participate in a group workshop. Whilst they follow a structure, the theme of each is different and builds upon the day before’s work.
They are intense. Incredibly emotional and confronting. Too private to post or process here at this time. However, yesterday’s yielded an interesting meditation for me. And I have decided to share it here.
A substantial part of the workshop is a moving meditation. For those that have never participated in these, they can be confronting, requiring a leap of faith and trust. Basically, music is played and you let your body do what it needs to do. My first of these was in Berry two years ago and I struggled but did it. I dance at home alone a lot, but in front of other people, not liking your body or self much, even with eyes closed, is difficult. Here though, I have embraced the moving meditations until yesterday.
Our theme was masculine energy. Ultimately with a focus on how we define or redefine it in our lives. During the discussion I realised that in my work I am masculine energy personified. And I don’t like it. I can be too hard and too aggressive. I found this confronting.
It’s not to say that the masculine energy is bad. It isn’t. And, as a side note, masculine energy is not the same as masculine gender; it refers to the qualities of the energy. Masculine energy has saved my life. It has given rise to the warrior woman that I have become. But it has also compromised my more vulnerable and free flowing side. Something that Mel and I have become conscious of in my Body Talk sessions.
Anyway, I sat to start the moving meditation and didn’t get up. As soon as I closed my eyes and became conscious of my breath, a movie reel started.
In Berry earlier this year, I encountered my Amazonian warrior woman in a guided meditation. My movie reel opened with her brother or son in the same field, spear raised about to kill a fish. He stopped. The reel then moved to a montage of scenes where masculine energy has destroyed people, civilisations and cultures. All of the expected devastation was invoked and the leaders responsible floated before me.
This continued for a while and I cried. The aggression was heartbreaking. An Aboriginal man appeared, a close up on his face. Sadness etched the lines of his face and pleaded from his eyes. An ancestral sadness, that drew me into his eyes and to more indigenous cultures. I cried freely as I continued to watch the destruction caused by masculine energy, and saw and felt the extreme hurt that caused the manifestation of the energy in this devastation.
And then, the Dalai Lama appeared. Hands held in prayer and that smile. This is the divine masculine energy. Warrior when necessary but always with deep compassion, not the aggression that generally typifies masculine energy.
Free m this point, my Amazonian warrior man reappeared doing pirouettes and leaps across the field. I laughed. He danced his way to a stage, where my Amazonian warrior woman joined him, clapping whilst he sang modern pop songs. She fulfilled a role of support without compromising her own status.
They eventually morphed into one energy. I understood my message. Compassion and support were the way of the modern warrior.
But how could I integrate that into my daily practice, I asked. Was it even possible?
And the Dalai Lama answered, “Compassion. Understanding. Communication.”
I came back, giggling.
Powerful stuff shifting here.