Held in the deep...

The Deep 

(6/27/25 meditation with some context...)

With about 20 minutes left in my appointment Michele asks, "How do you feel about investigating the dark, bottomless hole?"

I nod my head yes saying, "I'd like to try."

  

It's only been within the last eighteen months that I've been able to clearly identify where in my body I feel this deep, deep, deep sadness...

Upon this identification, I realize I've felt this on-and-off for decades... 

It is a deep, deep, deep mourning down a dark, bottomless hole in my solar plexus area....  

Sometimes I wail... 

Sometimes there is nothingness, pointlessness, paralysis... 

Sometimes I just sit with it, feel it, inhale, exhale, and repeat...

But never have I entered, until now...

I slowly arise from my chair and make my way to the table. 

I climb up, lie down, adjust the knee and neck pillows, and close my eyes. 

I inhale and exhale slowly, settling myself as I prepare to enter this deep, dark, bottomless pit.

I wear my headlamp to maneuver through the dark.

I feel Nanna's presence, but I do not know where she is; there is no visible image. 

Just the feeling of her presence. 

The hollow pit is cylindrical in shape.

But instead of empty red dirt walls, I see raw rock.

Cliffs all the way down to the bottomless bottom.

Equipped with my climbing gear, I begin the descent.

But I immediately hear that it is not bottomless. 

I hear water flowing beneath me far, far, far away.

I express this verbally to Michele.

She responds, "Where there is water, there is life."

I make a mental note to remember that.

Back in the hole I continue my descent.

I don't make it very far, only about 20 feet.

I anchor my ridgeline cord to the rocky cliff.

I securely attach both ends of my hammock to the cord.

I crawl in and relax trusting the anchors to hold me and my hammock.

I turn my headlamp to red; it's much softer than the bright white light.

I lie totally relaxed, admiring Nature's sculptures.

My ears attuned to the echo of the bubbling spring from deep below.

After 12 or so minutes, I am ready to end this session into my solar plexus.

Over the following weeks I enter, again and again.

I am getting deeper.

At times, the rocks have wept with me.

Salty rock tears. 

Nanna is a young girl between 6 and 8 years old, with a downcast countenance, feeling unworthy, unable to measure up. 

She is barefoot, wearing a tattered dress.

I first met this image, whom I named Nanna, in October 2008, three years after leaving The Way.

At that time, I penned a poem about her with the following context: 

"I am an expert at self-blame. That's not a good thing, btw. In identifying this core belief that has been central to my life for decades, I had to identify my scapegoat. In searching my heart and psyche, at first, I pictured a goat. But that didn't resonate. I looked up the word 'scapegoat' in a thesaurus and found the word 'cat's paw.' That didn't work either.

With this on my mind I went to bed for the evening. First thing upon waking the next morning, my mind was met with an image of a child. Could it be?"

~*~*~

Held: a prayer...

(7/20/25 meditation without context...)

May I tap into flow

May I float weightlessly

May I drift slowly

images

sounds

scents

Possibilities

no clocks

no dings

no rings

Only the breeze upon my nakedness

May I trust

May I rest

May I...

I am surrounded by Beauty

She pumps life though my cells

Like a bubbling spring Who brings life to all She touches

Feel the object that holds you at this moment

That cradles you

That keeps you from falling

May I trust

May I rest

May I...