A Day of Awkward Surrender
The Friday after a Thursday of two post-election events. One I was a featured guest highlighting my work in loss to magic, the other I was an anchor for the magic maker community.
In the first event, my friend and colleague Eduardo graciously held tears as he welcomed over 80 people into a safe self-care space, which was also held by our friend, the clear channel, Nita Baum. The energy was held with so much space and grace. And it was 80 people with wrecked nervous systems and rolling raging feelings in all directions. The energy was an invitation to expression, and it hurt at times while it expanded us.
The sacred circle I called in for the women in the magic maker community was deep. The anchor had depth and distance, so it was strong. I was the anchor. On November 1st, before I knew the election results and when I was still tethered to hope, I declared our November monthly theme as DEEP. I could sense it, the depth with which the November energy would rumble.
On Thursday morning I ventured early to the sheep farm as one of our mother sheep, Luna, had given birth to four lambs. Four! Normal is one or two, three is abundant, and four is lamb magic. Being with the whole flock and the four keening and delightful little ones was earth magic at its best. Deep grounding. As you walk the farm you walk on an abundance of manure. As you walk you wedge the manure into the dirt, fertilizing the earth. That kinda grounding, the down-and-dirty type.
After some time with the sheep and my heart, I chose the sand, the sea, and a salt bath.
On Buccoo Beach a short walk away I found my sandy shade spot under a sea grape tree. I pulled out my yellow sarong and designated the writing spot. I sit my ass down to sip coffee, listen, and write. I was back again to my current on-repeat Spotify track, Joyful Man. The lyrics are a dialogue and I assume because of the title and woman’s voice, the words shared are between a woman and a man. For me, I don’t hear that. I hear my higher I AM presence and soul singing to me. When I hear this beautiful dialogue it moves my body and inspires singing, I can’t not move and sing. I grind my base and sacral chakras into my yellow sacred spot and sing. My arms, shoulders, and fingertips are in motion, they feel free.
As I am singing I see two elder women on a walk. They are walking along the shoreline and will soon cross my eyeline to the sea. As they do they stop. I realize they are speaking to me so I pull out my earbuds.
“Are you singing?” one asks.
“Yes, I am” declared me.
“Oh, It’s wonderful”
“Yes it is, it is so good for your spirit.”
“Yes.” they simply reply as they carry on along the shore.
I return to singing and sand dancing.
That morning at the beach I anchor what I want to share with the women in our community.
It was clear, and it is this.
A woman’s leadership is aligned with her intellect and intuition, led by an alchemized heart.
We are those leaders now.
Be HER: The woman who is no longer waiting, she is claiming it.
Leading our lives, our love and its creations, our families, community, businesses, and acts of service.
Leading now and seeding that light, earthbound.
Smokey calls from work.
“Babe, I need you at the sheep farm. A little lambie is weak and in the sun. Please go move her.”
My heart kicks in and my body speeds up. I swiftly move with short breaths from the beach back to the farm. I arrive and the babe is now in the shade with Luna, in the back pen. A neighbor has moved her. She is weak and her breath looks so big on her skinny body. I was so relieved to see her side belly expand. That was the only part of her expanding. The other three babes are outside the pen, scared and confused. They call out to Luna and Luna calls back. Three little lambs cry and wander on shaky legs searching for their mother. Luna cries and pays little attention to the weak one. This is a sign that Luna knows, she knows this one is not going to make it.
I can’t touch them. If I do they will smell of me and you risk Luna rejecting them. If I need to move them I need gloves. I walk and guide the three lambs into the shade taking care not to touch them. They calm down and sleep. Luna calms down too. I sit on the farm stool under the tamarind tree and take a breath and a sip of water. I see May, the matriarch, a short distance away begin to stamp one of her hooves. She does it again so I ask her, “What’s up May?” The words are barely out of my mouth as the brown fur of a dog comes into view. I leap and scream at once. The dog does a 180 spin that looks like a cartoon and runs out of the fence hole it got through. I scream for the owner. I scream as they are far away and don’t hear me. When they step toward me I do not stop screaming. My mother’s heart is beating with wild protection. Once the screaming subsides I feel charged with the rage and exhausted all at once. The sun is hot and I have been in the rays for over three hours.
When Smokey arrives from work he calls it. There is nothing more we can do, this little one will not survive. Despite knowing that truth we try to calm Luna down and invite the nipple into the little weak one’s mouth. The attempt fails and fate is sealed.
As I leave the farm that day I know I will never see this lamb again. She will die and like the others who have died before her, will be surrendered to the sea over the cliff at the top of the street. I sit by her and gently stroke her neck. I whisper love to her. I thank her for coming. I wish her well. She dies before sunset.
The two events on Thursday are tempered with new life and death. I do not say anything. I let death sit for a moment and then moments longer. I know I cannot say it out loud because then it becomes real and I will have to feel it. I know many people have big feelings and it is not a day to talk about a little lost lamb. I hold it gently for the day.
Friday morning I prepare for the awkwardness.
It’s a photoshoot day for my rebrand. Abigail, a visual artist from Trinidad is here on the island and I will be in front of her camera. I love the camera when I’m teaching, or sharing stories. Posing for pictures is awkward. I am just really weird about it. (insert: all the complex feelings we have about ourselves. I have a stunning collection of ‘not enoughs’). And then add to that the shock ripples of the past week and the energy drain you feel due to the rollercoaster ride of life and death and leadership of Thursday. Plus on this Friday morning, I didn’t get to the sea as I normally would, instead I had to walk the street path in the sun to the optometrist as my new contacts are not quite right, I can’t see clearly (yes this is a blinding metaphor).
In front of the lens, I feel restless and resistant. Stiff in the wind, literally. The wind had a lot to say as I posed with a tree and on a half-destructed brick sugar mill wall. I felt the presence of the question, ‘How was I going to turn up for this?’
Not turn up for the camera.
How am I turning up for what I believe?
How will I channel life and death, loss and hope, and the days we know are coming?
What is my role in this?
I want the lens to see that. I want to know and feel the answer.
Awkward is how I feel as I pulse with my questions. And then I hear it.
In front of the lens pointed at me I hear the call for my leadership and voice. The voice is deep. It takes so many clicks of the camera before I can even begin to relax into her, the woman who believes she can do this. The woman who remembers that she is freaking magical and a leader in the movement into light.
The awkwardness eased and in its place, a gentle fire began to warm my blood and strengthen my bones.
I surrender to being her. I am her, now.
At the second location of the photo shoot, I see them, the sheep. At this beach, there is a large flock of sheep who wander to a park from across the beach dune in the direction of their home. They all come in a generous group of free fur. Some are pregnant. There are more than 20 of them. They bring their calm grounding energy. They bring to me the unlocking of my floating ribs. In their presence, the awkwardness evaporates.
Earth Magic. Animal Spirit. Clear Channel.
A commitment is made.
I will say yes to my leadership that is intelligent and intuitive, and led by an alchemized heart. I say yes for me and women.
In the new breath that follows the open space of surrender, I am in a relationship to the promise to myself and us all. I sense what will change and what I will be asked to let go of. It feels scary, and at the same time, I feel deep knowing.
“You’ve got this.” I hear myself say.
Late on Friday Smokey tells me that when he moved the now still little one from the back pen he discovered that she was a he, a baby ram. The ram died, and the other three, the females, survived. It feels like this is part of the story and in truth, I am not sure how I feel about the starkness of this.
Late Saturday at sunset when I went to the sheep farm to close the gate after the sheep had returned home from a day of grazing, I saw the three little ones, stronger than before. I wonder, as I watch them grow, what will grow inside me? My commitment to women’s leadership and magic feels strong and in truth still slightly awkward. The awkwardness is in not knowing what will happen, how I will respond, and my role to play in that. What I know of co-creative magic is we do not need to know the how, we need to know our commitment to the change we seek. I know that and have surrendered to the magic.
Big Love,
Deb D
