Climbing the REAL Mountain

It’s been an incredibly challenging last few days, but I made it here – three weeks into the trip with only one left on the horizon – and, thankfully, I am starting to feel a real sense of purpose. This week had plenty of tangible highlights worthy of sharing: meeting nine more of our sponsored students and falling in love with each one; weaving back the torn threads of a family who lost their twice abducted daughter; fixing the flat tire of my jam-packed African taxi that stalled en route; and, most importantly, welcoming my brand new nephew – Aidan Richard Offerman, the most special little soul I’ve only been dreaming about – into the world (via phone and internet, of course). However, the mood of the evening doesn’t seem to call for a retelling of stories (which I plan to do later), but rather a processing of the challenges that led me to the reopening I experienced today.

Unfortunately, there have been some issues with the education initiatives that needed to be resolved and, honestly, none of them would have been addressed if I had not been on the ground myself. Yet these issues have challenged every part of my make-up that I’ve been working so hard to realign back in the U.S.: trusting my gut, speaking my truth, making space for emotion, opening my heart, moving in love – no. matter. what. I won’t go into too much detail about said issues because they don’t really matter, and I am so incredibly tired of
people telling stories of helplessness, struggle, and strife that I refuse to perpetuate the cycle through this very blog post.

I can tell you, though, that the struggles have brought me to my knees, exhausted, disbelieving, fully unplugged from my connection to the divine, causing me to live more in my head, than my fleshy beating spirit. Just this morning I realized that if I am to solve the puzzle that has been laid out before me, I need to be what I say I am: someone who fully embraces whatever is handed to her, honestly and openly speaking her truth with complete faith that there is some masterful reason behind the tangled mess of the intertwining situations at hand. So, this morning, I pulled out my expensive travel yoga mat (that I have been avoiding under the excuse that the ground is too dirty, the snakes too dangerous, the bugs too annoying) and literally said to myself, “screw the chicken poop, the bugs, the giggling audience I attract every time I pull this thing out and strike a Virhabadrasana II: it’s time to plug back in.” So I saluted the sun over and over and over again: I sweat, I cried, I cracked myself back open. And just like that, there they were. My guardian spirit guides, standing at attention, ready to ride into battle with me, their quiet gratitude that I had finally decided to let them back in obvious. Man, they are patient with me. It must be frustrating to watch me fall off the tracks, away from their guidance and strength, time and time again. But, seriously, they are dedicated, never tiring of my humanness. Never even mad.

And just like that, after a much needed shower and shave, I reclaimed Myself here. I marched into battle. I spoke my truth. I let my heart bleed right in front of everyone. And I was healed. Our problems (that bore the weight of heavy, relentless boulders this week) shrunk as we reached a common understanding, silly pebbles now that we can easily move out of the way. We’ve learned what we need to change, how we need to communicate from here onward, where we went wrong, where we went right. So my heart feels light and more free, more available and spongy than before. And with only one week left, I am publicly releasing control of what this trip is all about, what will be accomplished, what my purpose is. In fact, as I sit here, once again immersed in the midst of the flowing force of my current reality, it seems silly that I once thought I could predict the trek laid out for me – not just in Uganda, but in every aspect of this comedic drama.

I wrote a poem on the Rwenzori trail, and it has brought me the strength I have needed today, weeks later (thank you, former Self of two weeks ago :)). Although I don’t claim to be a “writer” (what does that even mean?), I am feeling the urge to share my musings. This one started from my belly, so in alignment with my new set of principals, I thought I would share (below). In any case, it’s time to get that designer yoga mat ridiculously dirty and show up here for whatever the hell it is I came here to do.

Beneath the rugged marrow of rock
the soft flesh of soil
the tangled arteries of twine

Within the watery womb
there is a wild wind
that weaves us into One.

Here, She sings the song of a secret.
She is longing to sing it with you
and, child, you know it too.
It is closer than this very breath,
more intimate than each bloody beat of your heart.
It is this:

Everything is alive and dying at once,
and it is made of magic.

And it is his life and my life
her world and your world.
And we all make sense because
She makes sense.
When connected to her umbilical cord,
we, too, are pregnant with possibility.

Our separation from Her is the death of the truth
It is the ever-lasting funeral
that plagues the man who has aborted himself.

And yet.

Despite our rejection, she calls to us in forgiveness,
singing her Siren Song.

I have been waiting for you, child.
Rest in my bosom and
suck from the tit that promises no real end.
Our unraveling story has just begun.
Place your hand on our one heartbeat
and feel alive for the first time.

She is we and we are magic.
Thriving and pushing and pregnant with life:
messy and sensible
tangled and raw.
The truth of the Truth.
The reality of all Realities.

It is Her marrow and mine
Her blood and yours
Her breath and our breath
And the beat that beats Her into existence
beats in you, it beats in me.

Don’t let your thoughts get you drunk with
Disillusion
They only separate you from reality.
Rid Yourself of yourself,
and you will find freedom.

Her hands are waiting
open and soft
prepared to heal your wounds
ready to gently peel you back open.

Don’t be afraid, child.

Her force will free us.
Jump into the middle with me.