Beloveds,
This morning a friend told me to check the news – and I couldn’t believe my eyes. The Caribou Shopping Center in the heart of Nederland, Colorado had completely burned down. Gone. The fire started around 3 am, and they had it contained by 9 am.
What can I say of this tremendous loss? 20 treasured small, local businesses where I do my laundry, buy my wine, play live music, teach meditation, take my kids to learn about nature, go for music lessons, and to buy clothes, take my family out for dinner and the old clinic – gone.
Immediately, my heart tightened and my breaths turned to shallow gasps. No words – only shock, not yet even ready to feel the immense grief of this historical community gathering space that held so many memories for me, and everyone else who has ever visited Nederland. (Luckily the Carousel of Happiness was spared!)
My eyes were glued to the newsfeed – picture after picture of flames and devastation, giant plumes of smoke, stories of evacuations and explosions. A million thoughts racing through my mind – and, my guitar.
“Oh my God…” when I realized that the music store where my 1937 Gibson was hanging on the wall – gone.
I have to share the strange irony of this for me is that the main reason I finally decided to sell that guitar was because I thought to myself, and told everyone else, if there was a fire and I had to evacuate my home, I wouldn’t grab that Gibson. That’s still true but….
I had to close the computer and put my hands over my eyes to get back into my body. I sat still and silent in complete darkness for several minutes. I didn’t try to take any deep breaths or pray or anything. I sat in the presence of what was arising in my body.
Panic. Despair. Intense sorrow. Longing to be with my community. Longing to reach out, to help, to….
Just stay present. Feel the tightness in my chest. “It’s okay, your heart is hurting. This is what it feels like when your heart is hurting.” Noticing how I was gasping for air. “I am noticing how my breath is quick and shallow. My body is in a trauma state. I will honor these powerful messages from my body.”
Listening. Noticing. Honoring. These are the gifts of embodiment – especially in extraordinary situations, in trauma and in crisis. Trust is also in there – big trust. “It will be okay, I know it doesn’t feel that way now. But I know how to keep myself safe.” The body is so, so wise. In fact, there are studies that have found the amygdala responds faster than our logical processing and triggers physiological responses to keep us alive. Thank you, lizard brain.
Without any “affirmations” or trying to coax myself out of this state, simply by trusting and noticing, my breath slowly returned, my heart gently opened, and I lowered my hands from my face, allowing the light to slowly filter into my field of vision once again.
Embodiment is a powerful practice – and it is a practice for days just like today. When we are practiced and fluent with these techniques we can respond holistically, we can notice and tend to what we need to self-regulate and then we can really be of service to others. In the spirit of this gift please join me at the Rollinsville Zen Center this Saturday at 11 am for 90 minutes of moving meditation for every body. Together we will practice somatic embodiment, we will breathe and move, we will dance the poetry that is written in our bones, the ancient wisdom of the body.
With all my love and solidarity with the town of Nederland tonight, Arwen