Early this morning I dreamed that some kind of power surged through my chest and two large, orange snakes sprang out to attack people who I felt were not friendly towards me. I tried gathering them in my arms and pushing them back into my chest, but they were flailing about wanting to be free. Afterward, I lay awake for a long while thinking about the color, texture, the very nature of those snakes; the concept of power springing out of my chest like that. If only I was an artist I would paint them, so vivid were they, alive in my brain.
This weekend, discovering relatives and a family tree that extends back to 1610, I felt excruciating pain and anger. In fact, at one point, while I was watering my plants, I became doubled over and just stood there for a long while, sobbing. Was it vindication I was feeling? In my mind I pictured little Tamarika years and years ago searching to belong, guilty for being a prodigy of my father for the pain it constantly seemed to cause my mother. Her disdain for his people, accusations that all my Tamarika-ness came from "them." All that heritage tarnished and hidden away in shame. As I started to feel vindicated and proud to be my father's daughter, I wondered why he had kept his story such a secret from me. I found myself raging at what I had missed and why he had not protected me from mother's wrath and name-calling. Why had Dad been, in fact, so unavailable to me emotionally? So withheld. I had spent the rest of my life looking for men who would be withholding and unavailable emotionally. My sobbing became deeper, unbearable, and I had to sit down. They took from me my birth right. More than anything I raged about how my power, that is, being myself, had been perceived as trouble, a danger, harmful to everyone around me.
On Saturday at breakfast with friends we had all been sharing early childhood stories. I described mine in a nutshell: "I was born between two families and could never find my place. De facto, I was left out of everything, wills, history, people coming to my graduations, financial help during hard times. Mostly I felt like an ugly duckling whose egg had landed in the nest by some terrible accident." My friends nodded understanding as one of them had just told a similar story. I continued, "But the worst thing is when I explain these facts, I am told that I have no right to feel these things. Not only are these facts untrue, according to the family, but I have no right to feel them. It goes something like: here, we take from you what is rightfully yours (love, acceptance, inclusion, inheritance) but you are not allowed to feel bad about it. The bind is complete."
I wandered into the living room in the dark and plugged in the lights of the Christmas tree. As the room became bathed in the soft, gentle twinkly light, I realized that those snakes represented my own power within. I thought about the dream, replacing the word and images of snakes with power. It sounded like this: "I tried gathering my power in my arms and pushing it back into my chest ... "
Summing up my story clearly for my friends felt good. Sobbing with rage early Sunday morning had been cathartic indeed. All day yesterday I felt empowered and free. So much of what Bob the therapist had been telling me all these years was right there in front of me, as clear as could be. I got it! Freedom and empowerment. A Festival of Light. Out of the darkness of ancient pain and rage, I become bathed in light. It is never too late to feel that Tamarika, now grown, is also a Child of God, Tony Trischka.
A year ago at Tamarika: Somewhere out there ...
Thanks for your comment, Winston.
Smiles.
Posted by: tamarika | December 13, 2006 at 07:20 AM
A most amazing revelation from the heart. That took courage, Tamarika, lots of strength and courage. I went back and re-read your "Hearing my call (Update)" post from a couple of days ago, then re-read this one. I must admit some confusion in reconciling the anguish you express here with the joy and elation you felt then. It is not important that we understand those component parts of your makeup, but it is so very important that you are at peace with them. That is my Holiday wish for you.
Posted by: Winston | December 13, 2006 at 06:48 AM
Brenda,
An amazing story this is! Connection through the color of orange serpents.
We are sistahs!
Posted by: tamarika | December 12, 2006 at 10:32 PM
Synchronicities shouldn't surprise us, but as I read your post my mouth dropped open. On Saturday I had a powerful experience of dancing with serpents and it all started with my mostly orange sarong-scarf... that turned into a 'snake' on the dancefloor! I wrote the piece on the day Pinochet died. Posted it tonight here: http://brendaclews.blogspot.com/2006/12/chthonic.html. Access to deep chthonic energy, the mysteries of transformation and healing must be in the ascendancy. My tactile vision has ended the little book I've been writing over the last month, too (or almost). While I don't tend to think that your profound journey and mine are similar, the orange serpent, oh, that came to us both, somehow! xo
Posted by: Brenda | December 12, 2006 at 09:34 PM
Yes, I can see how the pain was a surprise. But a good one nonetheless.
It is comforting to know that others are on the journey with us.
Thank you for that comfort.
Kim
Posted by: Ampersand | December 12, 2006 at 02:15 PM