Weekly Share

WOMBS, WALLS + WAR

Last week’s destination:: London.

My whole family + our respective significant others.

There to surprise my older brother for his 35th.

On the second day, we found ourselves visiting Churchill’s underground War Rooms.

A bunker during WWII.

Around stop 7 of 39 on our guided audio tour, I peeled off the group.

Abrupt exhaustion made it difficult to walk.

I needed something, sustenance, NOW!

My eyes panicked + darted after the arrows toward the café.

The bathroom came first.

So I ducked in, stood in the stall and breathed.

Sandwiched between exhaustion + panic, I observed how the fatigue and plot for food were protection.

Armor for the historical fear energetically seeping in-side these war rooms.

Ironic.

To be sheltering myself in a very structure made to shelter.

We choose to dwell in small spaces for safety.

Why? I asked myself, now crouching in the stall.

Could it be that protection is actually punishment?

Could it be that we choose small spaces out of deservedness?

I think so.

You see fear + war have run rampant since homo sapiens beginning.

We pass it from one generation to the next.

Through the umbilical cord.

In those developmental stages, we are (mal)nourished by ancestral distress.

Our brains begin to believe love can’t + won’t find us.

Couple that with the universal source ‘split’ we experience at birth and it’s no wonder we punish ourselves by protecting.

By living in tiny mental, physical + environmental constructs.

That promise safety.

We develop equally tiny personalities famished for true nourishment.

That shrivel + shake with ‘will you love me if I?’

My version of this persona has become too painful to merge with.

I dabble between rage + sorrow.

Rage for the small structure I’m in.

Sorrow for the false belief I deserve its lack of range + ‘must-do-to-earn-love’ parameters.

In that war room, I gave myself permission to let love find me.

Beyond earning or deserving, it’s a need.

It’s time to grant the love that couldn’t locate us ::

In the womb.

In the walls

In the wars.

Permission to find us.

•••

{PS Thank you for finding me. Your open heart is allowing me to exit hiding + flat line my war}

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