Let the Tears of the Fathers Be Shed by the Daughters

On a warm summer morning recently, I walked a labyrinth with my father, his father, and his father's father. I am alive. They are not. My father died in 1994, Grandpa Menzies in 1965 and my great grandfather in 1947, the year before I was born . But they were unquestionably there and this is their story as much as it is mine.

Back in July, I was on a weekend retreat, “Sea & Sky & Soul: A Kundalini Yoga and Meditation Retreat” led by my amazing friend Diane Bunting (Shamsher http://yoga-with-shamsher.com/ ) in nearby Gig Harbor, WA. We gathered at a delightful gem of a B&B, No Cabbages (http://nocabbages.com/ ), and then journeyed from there to several spots in the woods and near water to practice meditations and mantras. Each day began with a hour of Kundalini yoga. But that is for another story. This one had roots much farther back.


When a relationship ended a few months ago, it triggered in me some deep wounds that had never healed. It was time to finally face those emotions and free myself from the pain I'd carried all my life. (That story is told in my previous blog “May Joy Never Leave You.”)

I knew that if I wanted to break my pattern of failed relationships, it was time to heal the one with the first "man in my life" - my father. One step in that healing took place a few weeks earlier when I did a sweat lodge on Bainbridge Island. At the beginning of the lodge, I invited my father's spirit to join me so that his pain could also be transformed by the work that I would do that day. “Together,” we worked on forgiveness and letting go of the story that had held me captive for so long. My heart began to soften towards him and also myself. It was a step but I knew there would be more to this journey! The “more” showed up on the meditation retreat!

As we sat around the breakfast table at No Cabbages Saturday morning, one of the women asked about the labyrinth that Jamee and Dal had built in their woods. She had never walked a labyrinth and wanted to know what it meant. Many of us had walked them in the past and several women shared their stories. I had chosen that morning after yoga and our morning meditation to maintain silence so I sat quietly listening as the others spoke of their experiences. At one point, Jamee told us that many visitors to the B&B were very drawn to the labyrinth and that they had even held children's birthday parties there. The guests would walk into the center of the labyrinth where the birthday child would be waiting. Each person would light a candle and tell the honoree how they loved her or him. Jamee spoke of watching fathers doing this and being visibly moved by the experience.

At that point, I was overwhelmed by grief and had to leave the table. I knew what my next step would have to be.  I headed for the clearing in the grove of trees which held the labyrinth. On the path, there is a threshold with the word “Surrender” carved into it. As I stepped over that board, I agreed to do just that!

On reaching the entrance to the labyrinth, I paused to remove my shoes and then quietly called to my father inviting him to walk this path with me. Then I stepped into the spiral and, with tears already streaming down my face, fell off the edge of the world. As my bare feet sought out the path under the lush foliage, I thought of the kinship I feel in these forests. One of the early European naturalists to visit these lands was Archibald Menzies and some of our common native plants bear his name. Here in the clearing were Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) standing watch over me and the piggy-back plant (Tolmiea menziesii) brushing my feet as I passed by. I felt that my Menzies ancestors were present in these green beings! It warmed my heart even as I wept.

Then, as I stumbled along the narrow pathway, I suddenly bent over under an overwhelming burden of sorrow. My tears became deep, wracking sobs as waves of anguish broke over me. I was struck by the absolute certainty that I was not alone. Nor was I walking solely with my father. I knew on a cellular level that he had called in HIS father to walk with us! And my grandfather had, in turn, called his OWN father, the great grandfather I had never known, to come along!   I had invited my father to lay down the pain he had carried while living his life with an armored heart, and to finally open, even now many years after his death, to loving and being loved by me. As I felt him answer that call and begin the journey, these other Menzies men who had carried the same burden slipped through the crack between the worlds and brought with them the grief they had stoically carried all their lives.

For a few moments, I literally could not move as my body shook and I wailed from the pain. As the pressure eased a bit, I resumed my halting steps dumping our combined sorrows into the bosom of the earth. I had learned years ago that the earth can handle all our emotional energy, transforming that into lush “compost” and returning it cleansed of toxins to nourish us and all beings. I surrendered myself into Her loving arms and made my way into the center, the deep womb of the labyrinth.

But there was one more challenge to face! As I turned the last corner and approached the center altar with its smooth paving stones, I saw a carved threshold sign which read “Gratitude.” Again, I was overcome with pain as I heard the voices of these men whose legacy I carried cry out that they did not deserve to go any further! They were paralyzed! How could they be grateful? How could they accept MY gratitude after all the anger and fear and grief they had passed down to me? In the face of that pain, my heart melted with compassion. I knew they had done their best. That they had loved their children the way they had been taught by their fathers AND their mothers. With the courage of that deep knowing, I stepped across into the center and, after circling the altar, I lay down on the cool stones and rested.

After a while, my tears having stopped, I stood up and approached the altar. I picked up a small candle, lit it from the pillar candle burning in the center, and began to tell my father the ways that I loved him and the gratitude I had for the many gifts he had given me throughout the half century plus when we had both walked this earth. He was my first guide to a deep love of the natural world and that laid the foundation of my life's journey. I literally grew up following him through his garden until he finally marked out a plot for me to cultivate! There was much more that I shared with him in that hushed glade that morning in July, and it felt so liberating to speak loving words and feel that they were heard. A deep healing had begun.

But now it was time to say goodbye and travel the path back out from the sheltering womb and rejoin the outside world. My steps were more solid and sure as I traced in reverse the path we had walked what seemed like ages ago. I knew that the energetic blocks that had been stored for so long in painful knots and tender places in my body were starting to unwind and dissolve. It was far from completed but at least the healing had begun. I prayed that we would all rest a bit easier having shared this walk in the forest.

As I look back on that day, I am grateful for the blessing of shedding the tears of my male ancestors along with my own. Together we brought back to life a bit more of the Sacred Masculine. As I work to bring balance back into the my world, the Sacred Feminine in me delights in this healing. And I hope that this story may bring joy to your life and that you find peace with all your relations.

May Joy Never Leave You!

My Journey From Fear of Abandonment to the Abandonment of Fear

It's been said that the Universe will keep presenting you with the same situation over and over until you finally LEARN the lesson contained in that story. I got one of those "presents" a few months ago. When a relationship ended in May, I found myself immersed in an energetic vortex that threatened to suck me down into the depths of despair. While I carried plenty of feelings about this particular ending, my grief was way out of proportion for that relationship alone. It was soon clear to me that some deep wounds that had never healed had been torn open.

As I struggled with the roller coaster that was becoming my life, a friend reminded me that I was going through a chemical withdrawal as intense as that from any other drug. He told me about a book he'd heard of called The Chemistry of Connection: How the Oxytocin Response Can Help You Find Trust, Intimacy, and Love by Susan Kuchinskas. Well, since I'd gotten my degree in chemistry back in the Dark Ages, I thought this sounded interesting. I went online and ordered a copy. I knew my neurochemicals were running amok, but didn't know what to do about it. I was afraid that I was sliding into depression again and, having been there way too many times in my life, I knew I didn't want to go there again. Maybe this book would have some clues.

When the book arrived, I dove in. The author began to explain how as infants we form a connection with our primary caregiver, usually our mother. As she holds us and gazes into our eyes, a bond begins to form. In that moment, both our brains are bathed in oxytocin. We feel a sense of ease and connection. We both want to experience that feeling again. If our needs for this connection continue to be met throughout the coming days and months, this response grows strong in us. When we grow up, we are able to form healthy connections with others. But if something goes wrong, if our needs aren't met consistently, we can develop patterns that make future relationships difficult or impossible.

I began to think back to my first days in this world. No, I don't actually recall them, at least not on a conscious level, but I know some basic information that led me to suspect that this bonding probably went awry with both of my parents. Not that they were bad people. In fact they were very good people. They took care of all three of their children. But they couldn't give us something they hadn't gotten from their own parents. And their family trees were firmly planted in the often barren and rocky soils of Scotland and Germany. I imagine that their parents had never learned to open their hearts and truly gather their children in either. Emotionally unavailable parents often pass this on to their children and so, I believe, it was with my parents.

I have carried a sense of abandonment for as long as I can remember. Though my parents were always "present", they were not "available." I felt I had to continually earn their love by DOING something, never believing that I was worthy of love just by BEING! And I knew it was time to let that story go so I could have a new and different relationship - to myself, my parents and to any future partner I might find. It was time to forgive my parents for the unintentional wound they had inflicted. It was time to forgive myself for nursing that wound and playing out that victim drama over and over. I understood now the likely reason I had chosen the men that I had. I realized that through my choices I was actually setting myself up for inevitable abandonment! I was recreating the dance with my emotionally unavailable father. I knew I didn't want to keep repeating this painful pattern any longer. And understanding the WHY of one's actions is often crucial to being able to do things differently. Now was the time to learn this lesson that the Universe had presented to me so often in my lifetime. Now was the time to let the story go. To do that, I had to go back to the beginning!

Some years back, I had worked with a therapist who did re-parenting therapy. I had gained a great deal from that work, but it was obvious that a core piece remained unhealed. It was time, now that the wound was opened again, to get to the bottom of this original pain and heal it, hopefully for good. A friend who has also done this type of therapy shared with me that she has a doll who represents her "little girl." The doll is a surrogate that she is able to hold and nurture, all the time allowing that energy to actually heal her own deep wounds. She suggested that I might want to do something similar. When I came home that day, my eyes fell on the old, raggedy teddy bear that I have had since I was about three years old. Though I had always thought of this toy as "male", it had been with me most of my life and I felt I could work with the gender ambiguity! "Timmy" would represent my infant self and I could "re-parent" myself!

Coincidentally, about this same time, I had a vision while dancing at my Sunday morning Soul Motion practice. While deep in my grief and with my eyes closed, I saw myself at the moment of birth. As I emerged from my mother's body, my adult self caught the infant that was also me and lovingly embraced the tiny body. I knew that I had a chance energetically to now give myself all that I felt I'd missed since my original birth! Now, as I held my teddy bear, I began that process. Every night before falling asleep and every morning on awakening, I began to tell that surrogate being, "I love you! I will always be here for you. In truth, you have never been alone! Never abandoned! You have always been connected to the Infinite Heart of the Universe, the source of all Love and Healing." As I say these words, my heart softens towards the little, lonely child that I often see when I recall my childhood. My compassionate arms gather her in and both of us bask in those waves of oxytocin. The wound has begun to heal.

The negative energy, this fear locked up in my body tissues along with the old story of abandonment, the drama that I had been identified with for so long, has begun to let go. As that energy emerges, I direct it down deep into Mother Earth. I learned years ago that She can take all our energy whether we think of it as good or bad, positive or negative, and reuse it. She is the original and the ultimate recycler! So I don't worry about giving my grief and pain and "negative stuff" to Her. She finds that as juicy as a fresh peach in summer! And I can draw up new energy from her also. This is just another example of letting go of waste products and taking on nourishment! A necessary part of life.

One more gift I have given myself in this journey has been a new middle name. My parents gave me the name Patricia Jo. I assumed the Jo was after my mother's father, Joseph, and often joked that I'd have been Patrick Joseph had I been a boy. As much of a "tom boy" as I turned out to be, I believe this masculine energy was strong in me too. But a few years back, I decided I would amend my natal name just a tad by adding a "Y" to my middle name. I wanted to have more joy in my life and thought that right smack dab in the middle of my name was a good place to start! So I have begun to call myself Patricia Joy, especially in sacred space. Sometimes, I think of my infant self simply as Joy. And when I do, a phrase from the practice of Mudita, sympathetic joy, as taught by my dharma teacher, echoes through my mind: "May you know the joy that is without sorrow and may that joy never leave you!" I whisper to myself, "Joy will never leave you! And I will never leave Joy!" May Joy never leave you either.