Rupert

Yesterday I got to experience “My Body as My Map.” 

I went to see my friend Allison, who offers trauma healing work, and the way in is through the body.  I feel like I got to zip up and heal a small section of the split yesterday with the work we did together.

I knew I wanted to work with healing the split with her.  We talked a little bit at the beginning, and then she assisted me to bring my awareness into my body, starting with my feet.  I got to really feel myself in my feet and sitting in my seat!

Allison asked  me to say "NO" and to just feel what happens in my body when I say "NO.  Nothing dramatic or big.  Just a simple, clear, firm "NO" and then to allow that to resonate within my body and especially in my belly.

Following the map of my body, I felt as though I was on a winding road that was taking me deep into the mountains along the valley floor.  It was lush and rich with foliage, and quite difficult to get through.  I became aware of my little girl, Katie, hiding in my uterus.  Her back was pressed up against the wall of my womb as she curled herself into a ball.  I had a strange awareness that she both wanted to be found, and at the same time, did not want to found at all.  She felt scared and all alone, and desperately wanted someone to love and hold her, yet wanted to stay and hidden at the same time. 

She was about 2 to 3 years old, and felt very sad.

When I was 2 ½ years old, we moved from England to America.  I left everything that was familiar to me, including and especially my black Lab dog, Rupert.  We had been buddies.  We were together a lot, going for walks with my parents, playing together in the front garden, sitting in the little wading pool together.  The story that often gets told is that I would help him with his bone.  When Rupert had gotten all of the marrow out of the middle of the bone that he could with his tongue, I would then help him.  I would stick my finger into the marrow, pull some out for him which he would lick off my finger.  Then I would stick my finger back in and lick off the marrow myself.  Some for him, some for me.  Yum!

We left him in England when we moved because we were only going to live in America for 18 months, and England requires a 6 month quarantine when you bring a dog into England.  My parents felt it would be better for him to stay with some friends and then we would get him when we returned home.  That made sense.

Except that we never returned to England to live. 

I never got to have Rupert as my dog again.  By the time my parents decided to stay over in America to live, he had bonded with his new family and so they never brought him over here.  That made sense.

I first grieved this deep loss when I was 28 years old, 26 years after we moved from England.  It took me that long to acknowledge that I had experienced a deep loss and separation.  Whenever we had talked about it growing up, my parents’ explanations always made sense.  There was no room or encouragement to feel and express my sadness and grief.  After all, leaving Rupert in England made so much sense. 

Two weeks after I cried and cried and cried over losing Rupert, my dear canine companion, Restless, a half black Lab/half Husky, came into my life.  It was as though I had to acknowledge and grieve the loss of Rupert for another dog to come into my life.  She was with us for over 15 years, and she was one of those special ones.  Pure love, pure joy.  I loved this dog and still miss her.  Now we have a wonderful dog named Molly, also a black Lab…of course!  She’s already 10 years old and is a love.  Pure lab who loves walks, to get wet, and to chase a ball at full speed on land or in the water!

What I really experienced yesterday was how I felt that I let Rupert down.  There was no way that I was going to leave him or allow him to get left behind.  We had a pact together.  I felt completely safe and completely loved and accepted for whom I was when I was with him.  I loved being with him.  I wasn’t going unless he was going too.

Problem was that I was only 2 ½ years old!  I couldn’t do what I said I would do for him.  I felt so powerless.  I felt so sad.  I felt so bad.  I let my buddy down and we never got to be together again. 

So here I was at 2 ½ and experienced my first split between what my soul wanted, and what my body and humanness could do.  I could not actualize what my soul desired and was committed to creating.

On top of that was the huge loss of leaving my dear friend and dog in England.

Only to come to a country where everything was so unfamiliar and foreign.  It even smelled different.  I could understand people but they spoke so funny and everything sounded and felt so harsh.  I just wanted to go home.  Home to Rupert.  Home to England.  Home. 

But of course, that didn’t make sense.  My parents were here.  They loved it here.  They wanted to stay and live here.  And here I am, at 51 years old, still living here.  I sound American.  I look American.  And yet, I am English in every cell of my being.

Last summer, on my pilgrimage, I got to spend 2 weeks in England.  My daughter and I arrived by the Chunnel train from Paris and got off in a little station down in Kent.  My aunt lives nearby but other than that, I have no ancestral or immediate connection to this area of the country.  However, when we stepped off the train and stepped onto English soil, I immediately felt “I am home.”  It felt crazy and I tried to push it away.  But the visceral feeling was undeniably, “I am home.”  Every moment we spent in England, especially up north where I was born, I felt at home.  I loved being there.  Crazy part is that I sound and look totally American.  I stand out there, but I feel at home. 

Here’s another aspect of the split:  I am English but look and sound American.  I live in the States, but feel at home in England. 

One of my deepest dreams is to live in England again.  I want to go home.  I want to be home.  I want to live in my home and dig my roots deep into the soil.  Perhaps part time, perhaps fulltime.  But this is one of those sacred and courageous dreams that doesn’t make sense and also that I have no idea about how to do it.  I want to go home and resonate with the soil, my history, my ancestory, my roots and re-claim that part of me that I left behind 49 years ago -that little girl who loved her dog.  The little girl ( I keep typing “gift” instead of “girl” – that happened 2 or 3 times now)  who loved and trusted with a big open heart and who knew that she could create and manifest what her soul desired. 

I feel like I got a piece of her back yesterday.  I feel her in me, not hiding out in my belly, but integrated more into who I am.  A small section of the split healed yesterday. 

I also know now that Rupert is okay and that he forgives me.  I didn’t so much let him down – I let myself down.  I also know on a soul level that Rupert and I had an agreement to go through this process together and that he would lovingly assist me to experience the split.  I came here to experience the split so that I could also experience the wholeness.  I agreed to the split, just as Rupert agreed to assist me to experience it.  He knew that it would be painful and leave a long scar, but he wanted to be sure that I experienced it with as much love as possible.  He also knew that he would be part of the healing and my returning home to wholeness. 

And here he is, walking La Camina with me, all these years later.  He didn’t know when I would walk La Camina, but he knew I would, and he has been patiently waiting for me to come home and for us to walk together again. 

Thank you, Rupert.  I love you.

Suseya!

Sahara