As I Sat By The Water

A poem that tells the story of my Vision Fast

After a wilderness fast has had sometime to sink in and start working on you, it’s time to return to your community with the new medicine you found and the new role you will fill. I shared the story this past weekend with some friends. They shared beautiful parts of their stories with me as well. One friend sharing about a trial that made it impossible to go forward with “business as usual”. Another friend shared a transrational experience, by which I mean an experience that transcends what can be explained by the rational mind. She heard a kindly voice that helped her avoid performing an unnecessary invasive procedure on a patient (more to come on the integration of intuition and rational thought to come soon). I also had a sense that these are people who have been advocating for me behind the scenes more than I even knew. This kind of exchange with people who understand both the medical side of me and the transrational side is so precious to me.

I have been wanting to write down the story of my vision fast for the past couple months, but had struggled to find the words to give it life. I wanted to bring you as close to that circle of friends around the fire as I can. I thought about how to encapsulate that time, and the phrase “As I Sat By the Water” arrived, because that was what I did the whole time. This poem tells the story of those potent and magical days.

As I sat by the water, I felt the call for deep rest
My back on the earth, the rain on my skin
I laid, then I slept, then I curled into a spiral, into deep stillness
That had been longed for but never granted

As I laid by the water, a black panther approached
She took me to lake and cave
Flying through the sky and into Persephone’s underworld
She bade me let go of my old robes, my old identity
Don’t leave it on the ground, it must go into the ground
It must be composted into something new

As I stood by the water, I found a stone to serve as a spade
In the shape of a human heart
Before that stone touched her mother earth, she broke in my hands
Two pieces
Were my hands that strong?
Was my heart that fragile? 

As I sat by the water, I prayed
I prayed to Mary in her lightness and her darkness
I prayed to my ancestors and for my ancestors
I felt my grandfathers’ blessing and I felt my grandfathers’ healing
As they entered the realm of the wise and well
Sending love on this journey that they wouldn’t have understood in life

As I sat by the water, I saw a woman
She told me I was the flood bringer
Here to clear out the old, to leave fertility for new growth
She told me of Angelica and Willow
Frog, Turtle, Muskrat, and Heron
The medicine these mighty beings are willing to share with me
She was Oshun, goddess of the fresh waters
She commanded me to I receive the power of the rains

As I laid by the water, at the very first light of day
I received the power of the rain
Beyond my imagining
Ceaseless in her ferocity
The trickle transformed into torrent
Demanding that I not wish or pray the rain away
Demanding that I not shy away from the power
Bringing, in reality, the flood

Upon my return, I stood by the water, hitched up my skirts and forded the river
On the other side was a cave
Water dripping from its ceiling, snuffing out my candle
Get comfortable in the darkness she says
A red, womb-like glow emanating from deeper in the cave
The song on my voice echoing through the ages. 

Thank you for witnessing this journey. I hope this poem has some medicine for your life. As I mentioned last week, the medicine I have been receiving has been related, in large part, to my work in the world and how it looks going forward. So many times, I hear or intuit that in order to be a “serious adult” you need to do work that makes you miserable. I am not yet ready to concede this point.

I am a compulsive planner, so I find my gaze far ahead, out toward the horizon. This week, I received some wisdom—to leave in a good way. This relates to tending the important relationships I’ve built over the past 15 years. In addition, the bigger challenge for me is not leaving before I leave, to be present to the trials and learnings, as well as the sweetness and gifts.

My new day planner. A visual representation of how I would ideally spend my time.

A few questions for you:

• When was a time in your life that you recognized your power? Did you embrace it?

• Have you ever dramatically, hilariously, or spectacularly left school, a job, a relationship?

• What are the identities you are letting go of and the new ones you are picking up?