Trauma

Trauma locks you out of your body and it keeps pushing you out
Trauma freezes you
Trauma can be big or small
It can be remembered or forgotten
It can be understood or unfathomable
It can be sharp as a knife or dull like a stone hammer
It can force you on your knees, spreadeagle you on your back or put you face down in the ground
It can hang you by your hair or by your feet
It can cut you into pieces, unable to reach inside or tie you shut, unable to reach outside
It can leave you muted or in the scream of agony
The trauma may have been done to you, to your mother, your sister, your fellow woman. It may have been done today or centuries ago. If it lives in your cells, then its yours.
Yours to see, to hear, to listen to and to smell, to feel its texture and temperature, its size and its form, to pull it out of the dark and put it in your hand and weigh it
And to say to yourself and to the world: I am whole, I am pure and it wasn’t my fault.
And to know, that we are here with you, those who have healed, who are thriving, handing over our knowledge and looking out for you
And to know, that we are here with you, those who will follow, because you led the way.


The first three sentences are a quote of Suzanne Durlock-Durana.

Vulnerability

I came across the concept of vulnerability via Candice Oneida. I cannot emphasize enough, how much I value her work and her presence. I then followed up her recommendation to Brene Brown, which I must say listen to while doing something else and only had quarter of an ear. But what I remembered of her message was that vulnerability is not weakness, but immensly courageous.
At present I am researching embodiment for a university poster that will outline, inshaallah, a workshop for mothers and daughters on „feminine embodiment, feminine power“. So I found this great ebook with the title „Dem Erleben auf der Spur – Feminismus und die Philosophie des Leibes“ which translates roughly as „On the trail of the lived experience – Feminism and the philosophy of the embodied body“. I guess as I cant find a valid translation for embodiment into german, I also cant find one for Leib into english. Today I listen to a videointerview with Suzanne Scurlock-Durana and they described it as the soul landing deeply into the body (they used different words), but thats the concept, no? The body that is beheld by something other, more, higher than body, the alchemized body. Anya introduced me to this idea of alchemy, from darkness to light, a mystical transformation. But I am jumping ahead.
So this article that I read from the book today is called „The flight from vulnerability“ written by Professor Dr. Debra Bergoffen. It is greatly interesting because it oulines beautifully what has gone awry with vulnerability in patriarchal societies. It outlines the great detriment it causes to men and women that are seperated into the weak-vulnerably woman and the aggressive invulnerable man, a relationship that is stabilized by rape as the ultimate realization of the assumtion.

She starts from two approaches of psychoanalytic/phenomenological theory, which have left me frozen when I read them because they again from a different perspective explained what happened to me.
The first is Lacan, which I remember from my times of studies of political sience, as a criminal, a writer I would, for not clear reasons (which crime? murder? rape?) not have consulted myself. Anyway psychoanalytic thinking always gave me a very bad feeling about myself/triggered me (Thank you Shelly Bullard for your ebook on getting triggered). Again today. So what Bergoffen reports about Lacan says basically that the human condition is to be incomplete, lacking and thus vulnerable. I quote

„Lacan’s description of the mirror stage and its consequent aggressivity is a complex account of how the human infant, in encountering its reflection in the mirror, sees this image of coordinated wholeness as the antidote to its experience of itself as inadequate, fragmented, and unlovable. Taking up its reflection in the mirror, the infant exchanges this experience of itself as a collection of mismatched body parts for the image of an organized, securely bordered, schematized body. It (mis)identifies itself with its reflected image in the hope of guaranteeing its (m)other’s love – of curing itself of the anxiety of vulnerable dependency (page 139).

Subhannallah. The disembodied child. That was intense for me. I remember in my childhood how I spent days and days sitting in front of the mirror, brushing and decorating my dolls hair, imagining stories. And still today I must pinch myself when I look in the mirror as not to get lost in the image as the reality and my bodyreality to be un-feelable.

I sat here frozen, reading on, sitting on the bench, ready to be judged guilty for having been the seductress, when Bergoffen continued and spoke about Merlau-Pontys much more compassionate approach as vulnerability being a condition that is deeply human and the root of the human experience and perfectly integratalbe into a sane existence.

Because this is what I believe to be true. But I see it further even. Embodiment and vulnerability go hand in hand. But there is not just the erotic path that stems from this source. And this is what I have learned from the practitioners of embodiment, even though all streams are pervaded by juiciness and pleasure, there is also the knowledge of abundance, the abundance of God, of the universe, the knowledge how to release trauma, how to release creativity, how to reconnect.

I realize now how great is the lie, instumentalizing our fear; that she makes us flee from vulnerability, thank you Professor Bergoffen, what a great title you chose for your great essay.

So clear is the path. In vulnerability there lies (in german we actually have to words for to lie, lügen und liegen :)))) our truth. May we be courageous, brave, speaking women. May our wounds become our words, our pain our peace.

Stop doing

While I was watching Candice Oneida’s weekly treat, my browser against my will catapulted me here :). So I as I really liked it, because as a man-mode superhero, all advice going back to feminine is greatly appreciated.

Embodiment – The creation of the within

My path has led my across many ideas and theories. I hope that with time this writing grows more of a clear structure. For now I take great pleasure in connecting the different bits and pieces that I have come across to my own rope to free me from the hole, the cave, the darkness. And the traumatized being that disembodied to protect itsself builds resistance to embodiment. For me to hear people speak about it, explain and value it has given me confidence to follow on this path.

For me it means to feel myself, to practice it, how awkward it may feel at times. Because then I feel my hand like a cut off entity in space, unable to feel the arm, the connection. But it gets better. The more I practice, the more I feel. I always tell myself it is like sport after serious atrophy. It takes time and patience and perseverance and hope. And the embodiment concept gave me hope and direction. Because if you wish to move your right arm, but you are not so sure what is right and what is left, you will waste energy, especially if your left arm is already so full of muscle that you actually almost can’t carry it anymore…

From the inside out

That is the motto. In the holy quran it quotes as a translation goes „surely Allah does not change the condition of a people until they change their own condition;“.
I read Shelly Bullards ebook „How to become the most attractive, irresistable version of yourself„. It’s pretty short, but really puts the points conscisely. Everything must to start within yourself. Within myself. My root is love. So I asked myself the questions today, what is hindering this realization. What I found was: I am not good enough and I am not worthy of something high. Having said this, I can now put these perspectives like weights in my hands, feel them and choose.

Andalusian Poetry

This Blog I found well before I converted to Islam. My unhappiness with feeling unconnected to God (and my jealousy of my husbands prayers) moved me to tap into the internet for help. I found this blog and I so utterly love this following description and especially the third part is speaking from my heart:

So ähnlich stelle ich mir auch das Universum vor: wie ein großes Konzert, das in allen Tonlagen singt und faucht, aber dabei nie seine mathematische Harmonie verliert. Zwischendurch wird es still, verstummt aber nie ganz. Ein Wechsel von bedachten und stürmischen Zeiten, von Höhen und Tiefen, von Glück und Leid, von Vergänglichkeit und Wiederkehr. Ein Konzert, das von Erhabenheit, Größe und dem Mysterium handelt. Dieses Mysterium ist mir nur zu kleinen Teilen verständlich – zu seinen anderen Teilen erzwingt es meine Demut, eine Demut, mit der ich meinen Frieden gemacht habe und die den Kern meiner Religiösität ausmacht. Sie vergegenwärtigt mir täglich meine Rolle als sterblicher Winzling in dieser Welt, und dass das kosmische Konzert auch dann ertönt, wenn wir nicht da sind – und dass ich großen Gewinn habe, wenn ich davon koste, solange es mir möglich ist.

Genau in so einem Moment möchte ich das ganze Universum über mir sehen, und ich möchte mich wie auf einem Gebetsteppich zu Boden werfen vor der Macht, die die physikalische Welt webt und formt. Mich ganz klein machen und mir dabei die Größe des Meisters der Schöpfung vorstellen. Des Schöpfers und Erhalters der kleinsten und größten Dinge. Nur vor diesem werfe ich mich nieder – und tanke dabei Kraft, um mich vor nichts anderem niederwerfen zu müssen. Triebfeder sind in solchen großartigen Momenten nicht das, was die Menschen sehen wollen oder sollen, auch nicht Angst oder Verzweiflung, sondern Liebe und Leidenschaft, die Sehnsucht des Tropfens nach dem Ozean, eine Sehnsucht, die tief in mir steckt, und deren Ausbildung und Entwicklung ich als Zweck des Glaubens vermute. So möchte ich gerne werden und bleiben: suchend und flehend, betrachtend und genießend, heiter und von Freude erfüllt, selbst wenn die Entropie täglich an mir nagt, selbst in Momenten finsterster Dunkelheit. Gebt nie die Hoffnung auf Gottes Barmherzigkeit auf, heißt es im Koran.

Und wenn ich die wuchtigen Klängen durch den Raum schallen hören, meine ich zu verstehen, was in den heiligen Büchern gemeint ist, wenn sie berichten, wie Himmel und Erde Gott lobpreisen. So möchte eine Stimme in mir rufen: Sterne, Bäume, Wälder, Seen – lasst mich teilhaben an eurem Lobgesang! Ich möchte in euren Chor einstimmen, wie die Berge Davids es taten. Ich möchte den Götzen in mir bezwingen, dem närrischen Tanz um das goldene Kalb in mir ein Ende bereiten, um Raum zu machen für den Einen. Und wenn ich dabei immer wieder scheitere: Ihr seid meine Zeugen, dass ich eifersüchtig auf euren Lobgesang war! Aber selbst der schwachen Seele ist Barmherzigkeit in Aussicht gestellt.

Ein Auszug aus „Kirche, Koran und Orgelmusik“ von Hakan Turan im Weblog Andalusian

From the gut

This writing here has the purpose of release also, of putting thoughts into real words, of opening to the creative… I will not have time to double check everything for absolute source reliability as I would if I write for university. So if you find mistakes or incoherence, bear with me and be so kind as to point me to my errors, so I can correct them. And best double check…. Much love!

„Shrinking Away“ – Suzanne Scurlock-Durana

Yesterday I watched Anyas interview with Suzanne Scurlock-Durana in the 72 hour free period of Anya Graces Elevated Women Series. I loved it so very much and I will be happy to dive deeper into the healing work of Madame Scurlock-Durana. Embodiment. The key! The cure! Once long time ago I read poetry by a serbian poet whose name I have lost. This man, may he have found his healing in this world and the next, has given me a glimpse before I knew how to put it in words, much less in comprehension, what I suffered. One line that stayed with me, and that I understand now, in this moment, differently and it seems to me, better, that I did then, is „body cures body“. Then I thought this about relationsships, which for sure is true as well, but it is true also for the body that cures itsself by itsself, by becoming embodied. There was a line in his poetry saying: „either I will find myself, or my twin and his gold.“ And for all that I didn’t understand much of this mans great poetry, I knew very deeply that I understood this line perfectly. Because it meant that he wasn’t sure if he would find himself, by becoming himself, the ultimate liberation of alienation, or if he would stay in his condition, and only collecting the gold of his heartfelt journey, that surely would glimmer and have worth, but could never be this one desired thing of finding yourself.
Giving or finding words to understand is so important, so powerful. There is a deep mytical link between creation and speech. The first word revealed to our prophet, may Gods peace and blessings be upon him, were „Ikra“, „Read/Recite“. The Thora relates that in the beginning there was the word. Subhanallah (God is beyond any imperfection). In Systemtheory, reality is created by communication, expression, perception…

Madame Scurlock-Durana spoke of something that gave a word to something that I had been experiencing, that had been discribed to me, but still always eluded me. And that is „to shrink away“! Thank you so much for giving a word and a cure!!! That is to be aware and then to ask myself, what do I want in this situation, to breathe and to come back, to step back into the interaction.

I am connecting this also to the great help of „womb space“ Rachael Jayne Groover speaks about. And if your root is in your heart, it is in an insecure place because the heart opens and closes depending on if it feels safe. But if the root is in the womb space then it can stay present even if the heart feels insecure and closes. And staying present, staying embodied is the key and the cure!

As women we turn

And to say it with Anyas words, clearly and so full of courage:

We turn
our wounds into our words
our pain into our power
our struggle into our strength
our surviving into our thriving.

Still I Rise

By Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.