DESCENDING INTO AWARENESS

Me, on the right with Erik, "the beast." Top of Mount Blue Sky, formerly Mt. Evans. 

I live in Colorado. Mountains are a way of life here. They inspire us, challenge us, create a desire to conquer.

At the summit we bask in the brightness of the sun. We have ascended to a height above the tree line, perhaps even above the clouds. A celebration is in order. 

The trip up might have been long and arduous, but we always had the summit calling to us. We kept going. 

Now, getting back down the mountain can create challenges: cold hands, bumpy roads, other travelers....

We descend back to familiar ground, where we began. 

What if we decide to, or are drawn to, or feel the pull to explore by descending even further?  

We find ourselves descending from the light-filled, ethereal realms of the mountain peak, to the shady realms of valleys, and even deeper into caverns, canyons and perhaps caves. 

We're talking psyche. 

When was the last time you were truly in awe of a place, a person, a poem, a sunset? What does joy feel like? Lightness? Expansiveness? Radiance? Does is give you goose bumps?

Speaking for myself, I'm a happy guy. Deposit me near a lake on a blue sky, sunny day. Or let me recline in my hammock so I can watch the clouds drift overhead, heaven. I'm at peace, feeling expansive, feeling all of the good things. 

But, there are dark times. I call them "sad panda days." Dark days may arise because of a recent incident, accident, illness, the season, the phase of the moon... What if we don't recognize any particular cause of our mood? It's just there. That can be acknowledgement enough. 

Perhaps, just perhaps, our bodies are holding a memory of a trauma, an injury, an illness in our subconscious. My past includes both emotional and physical traumas. They left scars. 

One memory of a decades old trauma was retrieved quite unexpectedly. I'm not going to address that trauma, it's too personal. Believe it or not, I have boundaries. 

Another retrieved memory gave me back a day I had lost to amnesia after a traumatic brain injury. I wasn't trying to remember that fateful day. The memory of the incident revealed itself, in graphic detail, apparently when I was ready. 

It's a journey best taken organically. Don't rush it. If you push the process you're likely to theorize, to "create" revelations and answers. 

For most of my adult life I've sought out body-centered psychotherapy. Hakomi was the most beneficial. It's easiest to explain by describing a session. Before I do, the name Hakomi has roots in the Hopi language. It means: "How do you stand in relation to these many realms?" It's described as assisted meditation. 

• My sessions would begin with a "hello, how are you doing? How was your week?" My responses were probably rehearsed on my drive to the appointment. They might include recent events and emotions elicited by these events. Or, perhaps I'm thinking about the past session. 
• Note: Before I found Hakomi work I spent years in what I call "talk therapy." While "talk therapy" is very helpful for many, I found that I never let myself get beyond the "chit chat" where I was trying out different theories of why I am where I am.  

• While I'm recapping my week, my experiences, my therapist might notice something about how I'm holding myself, or breathing, or mindlessly picking at a cuticle.

• Inward we go. As I explore a reaction in my body, my eyes close, I go into a meditative state, or as I often describe it, a hypnotic state. 

• I begin traveling to "these many realms." I might see myself as a young, scared boy hiding in a corner. Or, as a happy carefree boy sitting under a tree feeling the warmth of the sunshine. Or a young man on a long bike ride. 

Twice, during sessions, I had two distinct memory retrievals that had been buried in my subconscious. Both of these were quite unexpected. Both were very revealing. 

Let's go back to the traumatic brain injury. It was caused by a bicycle accident. One year later: I was lying on the couch, eyes closed, session was coming to an end and unexpectedly I started feeling the pain of the fall: road rash, my head hitting the ground, trying to get up, being helped by two strangers who saw it happen, the ambulance ride. 

It all came back. Over a year later. 

Where had these memories been stored? Why did they surface at that moment? I'll cut to the chase, they were being kept safe by my Po Soul which lives deep in the caverns of my subconscious. The Po knew when it was safe for me to remember the trauma, the loss of control. 

The Po represents our corporeal soul. It is anchored to our lungs. When we die, when we stop breathing, the Po decomposes with the body. The Po is the physical soul, tied to not only the body but also the senses, and movement; it stays with the corpse, decomposing into the earth, or it can become a ghost if rites are neglected. We'll leave that for another time.

But the Po also directs the new-born to take the first breath and move to the mother's breast to suckle. The Po protects us from external pathogens while "keeping an eye" on our functions, emotions and instincts.

I've written an article about the Five Spirits, the Po is one of the Five. Journey on!

THE WU SHEN, FIVE SPIRITS

While you don't need to spend every waking moment as a seeker, occasionally ask yourself "How do you stand in relation to these many realms?" Or better yet, see yourself as a part of a bigger picture called "nature." See yourself. 

I wish you happiness, wellness and a safe ride.

Brian