Moving Toward Wholeness
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A couple of weeks ago I started telling a story, How I Got My Wings. I later posted Part 2 and Part 3. This story, which begins when I found a dead cardinal in November 2020, isn't finished yet, but the part I felt most hesitant to share beyond a select group of people is out in the world now. A friend who has encouraged me to share the story has also been lovingly teasing me, "Now when people see dead birds, they're going to think of you" or "Now when people think of you, they're going to think, 'Oh, yeah, that's the dead bird lady!'" Both thoughts make me giggle.
Since I put the story out there, two people have told me their dead bird stories, and one of those also talked about putting a dead bird in the freezer. She told me that revealing that in a particular group of people led to multiple other backyard-bird-in-the-freezer stories.
I am reading Robin Wall Kimmerer's Braiding Sweetgrass and one of the many things I appreciate is how she weaves together the stories that come from her Potawatomi Nation heritage and the stories that come from her scientific training. Some might say these ways of knowing are in conflict with each other because the first way is made up of “stories” and the second of “facts,” not to be confused with one another. Kimmerer shows how each perspective, as well her perspectives as a mother and professor, can support one another, how an embodied and connected relationship with Creation balances the "neutral" or "objective" disconnected lens that science aims for (even though none of us can actually be neutral or objective).
As I write, I am wondering if we can recognize that science is simply a form of story-telling told from a particular worldview and that its facts are not necessarily the full, or even actual, picture of reality. I am not denying its value, but questioning the strong dominant cultural bias toward it (though in recent years, that's been less true). I wonder how much valuing scientific story-telling and disregarding or devaluing other interpretations, other stories of our interbeing, has limited for too long the potential of our understanding.
Like Kimmerer moves between indigenous and scientific understandings, over the last several years I've been wading into waters that some may believe are in conflict with one another. I am active in a Catholic church community (which I joyfully share with some of you who are reading). I have worked in Catholic schools and with Christian organizations. I hope to continue to do so.
I am also certified in and practice Reiki. I have been learning about and using intuitive gifts that I discovered because of Reiki; that's how Heart Portraits were born. More recently I have been studying shamanic practices. For me these practices outside of the Christian realm expand, deepen, and enrich my understanding of and beyond my mother tradition of Catholicism. They help me to imagine with greater creativity and imagination what loving God and loving neighbor mean, and who the word "neighbor" includes.
Studying the mystics, Christian and otherwise, bring a similar sense of wonder, expansion, and creativity. All of these explorations open me to the Mystery that lives in our interconnection. All of these explorations help me discover pieces of myself, bringing me closer to wholeness, bringing our world closer to wholeness because I am a part of the world.
Telling the story of how I got my wings is one step in claiming who I am, both as an individual and as a thread woven into the tapestry of interconnection. As I weave closer to other threads of Creation, we tighten the weave. We strengthen the tapestry. We move toward wholeness.
I suspect there will be people who read my dead cardinal story who will form negative judgments. I recently told a friend the story and she listened with furrowed brows and squinting eyes. It was uncomfortable. But if I am to honor who I am now and allow myself to continue becoming, I must be willing to face discomfort, my own and others', even when it means facing the skepticism or lack of understanding from a loved one. Being in the discomfort is a practice.
Self-acceptance is a practice. The more embodied the practice, the easier it is to practice accepting others. Moving toward wholeness is a practice. Will you join me?
If you'd like to explore these themes further, I invite you into these questions:
Have you ever been afraid to reveal a part of yourself to another? Did you choose to hide or to reveal? How was it to do so?
Do you feel like there are parts of you that feel aligned and in harmony that others might think are in contradiction?
How have you or would you like to move toward a greater sense of wholeness?
I'd love to know your answers, to offer witness to who you are. Please feel free to share.
