5.3
January 22, 2016

Today, I Release You. {A Poem for my Mother}

Nikko/Flickr

As a student of energy, I have monthly sessions with my teacher in order to dig up subconscious, limiting beliefs that may be holding me back, most of which I’m unable to see at first.

These limiting beliefs shape most of my thoughts, actions and decisions.

This past weekend, I was able to uncover something huge I had been carrying since I was an adolescent girl—my mom!

During my session, I went back to a memory from a time in high school when I had walked into my house after school to find my mom using drugs, and I was unrecognizable to her. At that point in my life, I subconsciously made many decisions, one of which being that life was too painful for my mother and she couldn’t do it alone, and therefore I was going to have to carry her on my back.

And I’ve been doing just that since I was a teenage girl.

This decision has played out in a lot of ways in my family life and my own identity, because as it turns out, a piece of my soul was still there in my old house on that day when I made that decision. In my session, I was able to give my younger self exactly what she needed in order to see clearly, feel her own power and proceed from there. The shift has been tangible, and, worth even more, I’ve been able to see all the ways in which carrying my mom on my shoulders has prohibited us both from rising into our true power and shining our lights on the world.

Below is a poem I wrote inspired by this seemingly small transformation and its impact on me personally. I suspect big changes are underway for my relationship with my mother, and with everyone else for that matter.

Behind me,
I sense a cloud of darkness
looming, hovering
we all know that it’s there
but can’t be certain what it’s made of—
perhaps it is best left unknown for now.

But my shoulders have a message for me;
they whisper, “We can’t carry this
body of weight any more.”
They are letting me in on a truth
I’ve been blind to for a decade—
Freedom comes
when I let you be you, and me be me.

Today, at three o’clock,
A time of day that has been blanketed
in shame for the past seven years,
I release you.
A time that has been subject to stuffing/running/resisting/struggling—
Today means sitting by the window to write
sweet, spacious, strong

How different it feels to be me this afternoon
so lovely and so light.
In this letting go, there is a vibration, a knowing,
a vulnerable power—
nothing to prove and nothing to hide
In this release, get to merge with the ocean
in my expansiveness

Thank you for teaching where to go to retrieve my soul
and how to give my younger Self exactly what she needed.
Today, I free us both from these binding fears
so that we may be the radiant, shining,
whole beings that we are
trusting us each to rise up when we need to
and soften to receive the truth of each other as individuals.
Mother of mine, I release you so that I may know a deeper experience of love
for myself, you, our ancestors and all of humanity.

My session is living proof that our deepest wounds are here to teach us, and when we explore the roots of our suffering (shame, guilt, anger, grief), we are invited into what first feels like a painful rebirthing of ourselves as we move through the sensations in our bodies, and are then planted in a more rooted space in ourselves, full of clarity and freedom—a lens through which to perceive things without a story attached.

May we all be courageous enough to turn up our light a little higher than is comfortable, and as our fears are transformed—as we are transformed—may we see with new eyes the magic, beauty and perfection in the humans around us.

(P.S. It has been here all along!)

~

 

Author: Chelsea Fish

Editor: Toby Israel

Image: Nikko/Flickr

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