Patti here. There is so much to tell. A voice, a body, a heart all longing to speak. Telling secrets of the dark. So many things begin in the dark. Our conception starts in the hidden depths of our mother’s womb. Seeds sprout underground. Our secrets begin when we shut away our truth into the darkness. We start with just one secret, small and possibly even inconsequential; but over time, the secrets mount and soon there is too much to tell, no way to begin.
Our body in its kindness holds our secrets for us until it rebels, crying out that this is too much. It is then that something cracks in the very fabric of our lives and our secrets start seeping forth. Sometimes they come forth as an illness or a recurring, inexplicable pain. Other times we meet our secrets in our rage, a rage arising from nowhere it seems and yet one that bursts forth with volcanic power searing every living thing it touches. Or perhaps secrets step forward as an unrelenting sadness, making us so weary it’s hard to function.
What is this rage, this pain, this sadness, or infirmity asking of us? I think, at least for myself, it simply asks the truth. We must learn to speak the truth of our own experience. It asks us to give voice to the things we have denied, the truth that only our body remembers.
How is it that we forget? Why do we cast our eyes away from our experience? I think this is an act of compassion on the part of our higher self. Sometimes we have experiences that are to be the pivotal point in our lives, the experiences that determine which direction our lives will grow; but, these experiences happen when our hearts are too tender to hold them without breaking. So with compassion, our body takes these experiences into their cells, never to be forgotten and only to be remembered when our hearts are strong enough to bear the pain. But all this happens with a price. Our bodies must lock away a piece of our soul too.
When we lock pieces of ourselves away for safekeeping, we dim the true expression of ourselves.
It is the soul’s greatest desire to be whole, to give full and complete voice to its expression. When we lock pieces of ourselves away for safekeeping, we dim the true expression of ourselves.
Our healing begins when we learn to look inside our pain, our rage, our illness and ask them to bring forth their gifts. We learn to see our suffering as a messenger trying to bring us home, home to our bodies and to our soul’s purpose. Our healing begins when we turn to our pain with a heart full of compassion and listen deeply to its message.
At first, it seems, it can only tell us of how we were broken, maimed or scared. It shouts of injustice, of pain endured too great for any heart to hold. And then it turns with a softer voice and whispers what it needs to heal, how it can find forgiveness, and lastly, what is the gift it came to give.
When first our pain speaks forth its voice, we feel as if we may die.The pain so great one’s heart physically hurts. A stabbing pain inside the chest. Hollow and unending, we feel the pain we could not bear to feel before. Every cell cried out in misery. I know that pain. For years I walked about feeling a dagger in my chest. During this time, my body was telling me secrets I had forgotten. As each feeling or memory surfaced the pain increased until I thought I could endure no more. And then, suddenly the pain lifted. The story told and received into a tender space within my heart. I learned what my body had to say and the pain receded.
Once my body knew it could trust me to receive its message with love, to take its words to heart and hold with loving care, the dagger was taken from my breast and a great source of peace took its place. And from this peace came a new understanding of myself, of the experiences from my past and of where I was heading next. Holding space for my pain brought me freedom. It felt like a miracle.
To learn more about how to hold space for your own pain, read Steve's book, The Seven Tools of Healing: Unlock your inner wisdom and live the life your soul desires.