Wanda, the Wasp III


I've learned there is a point where we accept injury.  Unlike a disease which manifests slowly with each disharmonious thought, sometimes taking a lifetime to manifest, trauma happens in an instant and your first judgement becomes your last.  So my first response was to push all other thoughts out of my mind so the body could heal. 

   To accomplish this, I immediately began connected breathing.  Each inhale brought more than the cold January air into my lungs, it brought the pranic energy capable of rearranging the damage I knew I had caused.  I knew I was providing the body with what it needed in this moment to do the natural work of healing.  I just needed to remain steadfast in supplying the needed energy.  This is why I knew I needed to keep moving.  From some shamanic past came the urgency to push through the pain even though It hurt to walk on it.  It had to be done.  I didn't question why.  I just knew what had to be done.

    Hezekiah came outside, and hearing me huff and puff like the big bad wolf, my compassionate Chinese boar gingerly said,  "Mom?!"   I knew healing was going to require ALL my attention, not just some of it.  I knew the moment gave me a choice to make – stop breathing to have a discussion on the state of affairs with him or keep breathing because the pain in my foot was not subsiding.  I chose the latter, waving him back into the building with my hand.  

    A part of me saw Kie's father, Daniel come to the door, look out, and turn around to go back inside.  I just kept breathing and walking the pattern that I had established.  My mind filled with the healing power of breath.  There were moments of purifying when I could step on the foot and it didn't seem to hurt, yet they were few and I knew I had caused some serious damage.  This was probably not going to go away by tomorrow morning.

    Jonathan, a friend, heard the commotion, and came onto the porch, "Are you all right?"  All I could do is shake my head, send a thought his way, and keep going.

I must have made quite a sight.  Like a medicine woman expelling evil spirits around an imaginary campfire.  I just kept breathing and circling.  Clearing the energy.  I knew this was a result of my anger at having to put myself out when I felt so tired.  I had punished my body with my anger and that was a foolish choice.  I knew better, I just hadn't used what I knew, and now my body was paying the price.  I affirmed that self pity would never again rule my thoughts and actions.   This regardless of the outcome with my foot.  I was swearing off self-pity – permanently, and replacing the unattractive disposition with empathy.

    Memory of an experience less than 24 hours before came into my mind.  It was the 11 o'clock hour of the peace vigil.  I circled the outer rim of the dome as we recited the words of the Universal Peace Covenant.  About halfway through the reading, it was as if my feet disappeared.  There was no physical feeling in them, yet I kept moving forward.  It was if I was floating instead of walking.  Now, here I was planting my feet on the concrete porch, each step counting for something.  

    As I inhaled, I mentally directed the prana straight to my foot.  Each exhale was to clear the energies my emotions registered as pain.  Finally, I couldn't breathe anymore and remain in my body without losing consciousness, so I came into the living room and sat on the couch.  The foot was throbbing.  

    Now was the time to examine the physical damage.  I slowly removed the shoe and sock.  I examined both feet for comparison.  I gently tried moving the foot.  Even though attempts to rotate the ankle met with discomfort that made me want to tense, I found I did have movement.  I could flex the foot up and down, but it hurt, and inverting the foot, moving the sole towards the median plane, was not going to happen without tears.  

    Daniel, a powerful healer, sat down on the floor next to me.  "I think I really messed it up," I said matter-of-factly.   

    "Can I help?" he asked.  

    "Whatever you can do," I replied, surrendering to the moment.

    He held his hand lightly over the foot.  In time, it began to calm down into a dull ache.  It was starting to swell a bit as well.  I looked closer and there on the outer side edge of the foot, at about the midpoint, was a protrusion.  I didn't know if it was broken or fractured or just misplaced, and in the early hours, I didn't want to know.  I had learned how the labels of expert diagnosis can be a definitive curse, setting the mind firmly in the path of self-fulfilling prophecy.  The first judgement becomes the last judgement, and it's always best to place that first judgement in the hands of the Spirit that knows the whole truth.  I said a prayer of thanksgiving for the healing I was capable of receiving.  

the story continues