Take Off Your Shackles

It hasn't been easy on me, this holiday season, to be separated from my family of origin. It has felt like where I need to be, but not at all comfortable.

I went to see one of my yoga teachers for Reiki today. I've been in his classes for more than a year now, but this was our first one-on-one, hourlong session.

At the end of the session, he expressed awe about what I am working with energetically. I know, I told him, it's big.

Yes, he said, and there's a thickness to it. Almost like stone.

I call it metal, I told him, this armor behind my heart.

He told me to be sure I don't mistake being comfortable as the goal -- that I can be safe but also uncomfortable, and that's how I will be able to thin that armor.

He said it probably isn't about getting rid of the armor for good, but rather learning how to more easily take the armor on and off.

That made a lot of sense to me.

I went home, took a nap, talked to my man, and then headed to yoga. I didn't feel great physically, and was struggling emotionally. At the end of class, when my friend squeezed my hand in savasana, I started to cry.

I often have that reaction to people reaching out to me when I feel vulnerable. I think they are tears of relief. That I'm not that little girl anymore, alone and afraid, protected only by the armor that she had to create to keep herself safe, or as safe as she could.

I've worked hard to take those shackles off, just as John Savage sings about here:

What know the pilots of the stars of tears?
Well let me tell you that there won't be any here
As you fly towards a setting sun
There will be a new one
And I won't hold you down
I won't hold you down

Let me in and I'll let you out
Why don't let me and I'll let you out?
I've already read it in your eyes
Yet I don't have perfect vision
I don't wanna live in warm white lies
Don't shy from your decision

Are siren like shores calling out your name?
Well I don't need to know why it's not the same
If you don't need me
If you need to be free
Then I won't hold you down
I won't hold you down

Let me in and I'll let you out
Why don't let me in and I'll let you out?
I've already read it in your eyes
Yet I don't have perfect vision
I don't wanna live in warm white lies
So tell me sweetly
Tell me sweetly
Tell me sweetly

So take off your shackles and go
So take off your shackles and go
Go home, go home, go home
Go home, go home, go home

The woman I work with for trauma recovery says go home to the body, home to your deepest self.

I try to be there, in that home, as much as I can. And when I realize I'm not there, I try to return, as quickly as I can. I know that continuing to integrate my mind into my body is one way to make that move more permanently, and I'm working on that every day...