Greetings from the cold walls of the kitchen at the Seminar Haus in Wettenbostel, Germany. My hands are cold and icy as I take a moment to write a little in the cool winter air. Preparing yet another pitcher full of hot tea… nourishing me on the inside and I suppose nourishing my spirit as well.
My current project here at the Seminar Haus… painting the ceiling of the Big Dojo, one of the buildings in the collection here. I must confess, I feel far away from the inspiration of Michelangelo… and I have a pretty good kink in my neck, but in general I am glad for the work. It feels good to have a place to come to put a little time and energy on something. To focus on something as simple as dipping a paintbrush into a bucket of paint and then applying it carefully along the seam of the ceiling and its many beams. While I am painting I have been listening to an Audio book by Iyanla Vanzant. She is a spiritual author who I have enjoyed over the years. There was an offer on-line for a free audiobook … so I took advantage of it and downloaded Iyanla’s latest book, Peace from Broken Pieces. I am not that far into it, but listening to it is like eating some sort of food that I didn’t even realize I was hungry for. It is satisfying.
My time here in Germany and Europe, as I have written, continues to be a time of healing for me. A healing path that began most notably with a personal crisis my senior year in college, then ten years of a steady diet of Paxil … and well, the turbulent journey off getting off of Paxil and life with the puzzle and experience of the trauma that lied underneath. The journey of healing has shown to me that… it is a process, unfolding, leaf by leaf, flower by flower… and year by year. You cannot rush healing… perhaps accelerate it at times, but it is its own mystery, its own path. And at most what you can do is take it and yourself one step, one day at a time to see… and try not to take things so seriously.
I started practicing Reiki about 8 years ago. I found my way to a first degree Reiki class not long after getting off of antidepressants. And it, in its own way, was a miracle for me. The beginning of release. Sometimes it seems that in healing oneself you must first go down a long and sometimes lonely journey to get to the bottom of the well. And just when you think you are at the bottom… you are still not there yet. Still more. Still deeper. Still more to lose, give up, surrender. Healing has shown many different faces to me… despair, loneliness, rage, laughter, unspeakable beauty. It is in the depth of her invitation that I have found something balanced and beautiful and it is there where I rest my hat.
In Iyanla’s book, she shares her own journey and expresses that she has come to believe that each of us choose our lives… our parents, our families, hurts, traumas, joys and laughter… as our perfect spiritual curriculum. And it is the perfect curriculum, just for us, as its ultimate goal is to lead us back to God. And in that way, all the characters in our play of life become heroes… the good and the bad as they have been the exact gift that we needed. That have sent us to pray, to meditate, to take a different path.
And so, here I am, in the latest chapter of my healing. I find myself in the lately quiet space of Wettenbostel. A village of almost 60 people set amongst the potato fields in Germany. Listening at times to the silly stories of my host and his friends here. And much of the time on my own and independent. In the quietness of the woods amongst no one but the trees surrounding me, I see and feel that I am here for my healing. It is not always glamorous. I often struggle. But my time here seems to be folding me into a gentler surrender with myself as the woods and the land hover around me and protect me like a nurturing mother.
Listening to Ilyanla, I am reminded I am on a journey. I am reminded to be tender and kind with myself. And I am activated by the idea that my life is my perfect curriculum. Everyone’s journey of healing is different. And for now, mine has sent me to Wettenbostel. Land of the wild pigs at night, late night hot tubs, and quiet nurturing nature.
Photo by Michael Hartly.
Gypsy Woman 