#Writing to make sense of each unique moment that life brings to you
#Escribir para dar sentido a cada único momento que te trae la vida
#Schrijven om zin te geven aan elk uniek moment dat het leven je brengt
Healing declaration
I am open to others while remaining completely faithful to myself.
Damaged soul
Louise Hay finds a direct relationship between illness (symptoms) and emotions. Following her long list of diseases, cancer relates to deep hurt, longstanding resentment, deep secret or grief eating away at the self, carrying hatreds.
The German New Medicine (GNM) paradigm also establishes a relationship between the onset of cancer and emotions. It defines cancer in similar terms as Louise Hay, as the result of nursing old hurts and shocks, or building remorse.
Getting into more detail, GNM also identifies different types of cancer, or better said, different organs where cancer may originate, and links these to specific emotions or events. Following this list, skin cancer is the result of a loss of integrity; melanoma the outcome of feeling dirty, having been soiled (disgraced or discredited) or defiled (raped or sexually assaulted).
These descriptions sound extreme, considering how frequent skin cancer and melanoma are today. To me, they all apply. In fact, they are interrelated; either one is just the consequence of the other: once your integrity is broken, the rest follows automatically.
I finally understand why cancer could develop in my body.
If damage is done in your childhood, you will become susceptible to any form of abuse, be it physical, sexual or verbal. Later on in life, after having internalized the pattern, a simple attitude, movement, gesture or even a blink of an eye pushes you back to your inconscient memories and reestablishes your victimhood.
It happens over and over again; you lay yourself down on the floor to be taken. You freely allow others to step on you, to beat you and tear you apart. Time and time again, you hand yourself in, extending your wrists to be tight, and to willingly become a slave again.
You never resist; never hit back; never scream for help nor run away. You allow it to happen, time and time again, staying silent, shutting down your senses, accepting your reality as the only one that exists. Each time, you wait patiently for the nightmare to be over and get ready for the next one to begin. In your sympathetic nervous system there is no place for a flight-or-fight respone; there is only freeze.
The pattern repeats itself for the rest of your life. You are incapable of building relationships without taking the underdog position, in which you do not allow the other to tell you what to do, or to bluntly criticize you without taking you into account. Experiencing a conversation with someone who is just kind to you without expecting anything in return, becomes the exception, a memorable gift.
Cancer taught me that if I wanted to live, I had to break the cycle.
I cleansed my system. For two years I washed my body with water, green smooties and coffee enemas. I detoxed my mind with visualization exercises, intense yoga and meditation practices. I excercised to sweat and with the help of energy healers I dove deep into the inner world of my true self. I cried for hours, days and months, bringing back to life the child I once was; and I am still crying.
I now have started to learn how to protect my sacred space, how to let go of those I once allowed to invade me, how to transform my fear into courage, my stuck innocence into new learning and my anxious, noisy mind into one that is consciously loving of who I really am.
The cancer is gone. I feel less dirty than before, more worthy and capable of creating something better for myself.
I am rebuilding my integrity, healing my living body and repairing my damaged soul. The process may be long, but there is no way back; I will never be the same again.
Somewhere between Managua and La Havana
For those
Who take a direct flight from Managua to La Havana
On their way back to the old continent
And have a stop-over in Cuba
For those
Who feel desperate and fearful
Of what will happen
When nature’s freedom of joy is exchanged for man-made rules of law
When the rhythms of the earth become senseless tones of authority
When timeless lushes of wilderness are replaced by cold perfections of calculated towns
I give you my word:
After exactly one hour and 12 minutes flying through the dark night
Somewhere between Managua and La Havana
You take a look at your left
You will see her there
Your full moon
Surrounded by millions of stars
There she is
Your bright yellow balloon of fire
Waiting for you
Reach out to her
She will reach out to you
Listen to her
She will speak to you
Trust her
She will stand by you
Accompany you
All the way down
Once you found her
You can call on her anytime
She will always help you
Generously
To find that simple thing that you forgot:
Your personal way
Your way
Your way
Home
Sunshine in my room
My bedroom had curtains with rectangular shapes in the colors lightblue, grey, yellow and white. The shapes were separated by irregular black strokes as painted by hand.
With ten blocks in each row, the pattern was irregular: a first row started with a yellow block, followed by a grey, a blue, and then a white one. Then there was grey again, and so on. The second row had first blue, then grey, followed by a white and a yellow block, and then continuing. The third row also had a different sequence. No row was ever the same.
Obsessively I have tried to find a logic behind the arbitrary pattern of my curtains, but one day I decided to give up.
In summer, the sun used to shine through my curtains. In particular the yellow and white blocks let the sunbeams in very happily.
My best mornings were those when I woke up because of their play.