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Swimming With My Otter

11/12/2015

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​     For the past few years, I've gone through changes in my exercise regimen, due to my hip dysplasia and arthritis.  High impact exercise such as running is now too painful for me, as is deep stretches in the hip/groin region.  My yoga practice has become very mild and therapeutic.  I've also had to curtail my belly dancing, no longer taking lessons -- where repetition is key to learning -- now, I dance a little on my own.  Whereas, I used to free-form dance at events or clubs for hours, now I can only do so for under an hour, and then, my hips hurt for a couple of days.  

     I've gone through lots of inner transformations around this issue, from being depressed, to frustrated, to focusing on other things than my body i.e., might as well have that beer and cake, and back to attempting to work with my body.  While adjusting my diet has helped somewhat: eliminating sugar, gluten, caffeine and alcohol is often uncomfortable.  It can trigger resentfulness in me -- honestly, I still break the rules, to my own detriment.  I'm exploring the roots of this struggle.  

     But, something else beautiful has emerged:  I've reunited with my totem animal, the otter.  Ever since I was a tiny tot and unable to swim, I've loved water and would go in on any possible occasion.  Much of my childhood experiences has been in creeks:  catching crayfish and salamanders with my hands, building dams, swinging on vines over it, walking up long stretches barefoot, etc.  Also, when I'm at the beach, I'm in the water for hours, boogie boarding and body surfing, until exhaustion and hunger force me out.  At lakes and pools I would dive, twisting and spinning underwater, do handstands, you name it.  I've never lost this drive to get in the water -- you can ask anyone whose been on vacations with me!  So, when many of my favorite activities became painful, I embarked on a long-term study of lap swimming.  I intend it to last the rest of my life.

     No surprise, I love swimming!  It's been fascinating and motivating to notice the improvements I've made in a couple of years.  For example, when I began, I would crawl stroke for half a lap (from one end of the pool to the other) and have to rest a minute, letting my breathing slow down, before I could go back.  Back stroke used to hurt my shoulders and crawl stroke used to hurt my neck, until I changed how I was doing them.  Bending my elbows some in backstroke, I can distribute the effort, instead of it being pinpointed in my shoulders.  During the underwater portion of crawl stroke, I now reach each arm across my body -- like taking a sword across me.  This makes the opposite shoulder roll out of the water, so when I need to breathe, I don't have to wrench my neck.  I'm now exploring butterfly stroke -- something I never thought I could do!  While I'm not super fast, I'm now able to stay in pretty constant motion, mixing up several different strokes, lap after lap. 

   Swimming feels so good!  It stretches my back, tones my whole body, strengthens around my pelvis, and challenges my cardiovascular system and coordination.  More importantly, it's drawn me closer to my core self -- that self is very otter-like -- playful, strong, creative, bold, re-connecting with an integral part of my childhood.  When I was little I had a stuffed otter named Otto.  He was my favorite stuffed animal.  Fairly soon after beginning my Shamanic training, I had purchased a gorgeous carved otter fetish made of turquoise.  See the above picture.  It's a permanent part of my Mesa (medicine tools).  

     When I realized all of this, I felt like celebrating with a tattoo, with the laurel flowers that are prevalent in the Mountains of Virginia, and North Carolina; favorite places I've hiked.  While I'm not saying tattoos are for everyone -- they're a serious commitment, not terribly cheap and do hurt to get -- but, in my case, I'm loving it.  It's fun, artistic and a statement.  And the statement is, this is a big part of who I am.    

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The Grief Journey, Part 4

11/5/2015

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     I've been remiss in sharing what I feel will be the final installment of the Grief Journey over our greyhound, Charlie.  I'm not certain why it's taken me this long to share, other than it was a beautiful and perhaps private experience.  We released his ashes to the Haw River early Sept.

     We had adopted Darla, our third Greyhound in February and had some issues with her peeing in the house.  They occurred off and on, it was frustrating; sometimes it seemed that she was not understanding the need to communicate -- to indicate that she does want to go outside when we ask; then other times, she peed inside out of upset or stubbornness -- when she wasn't getting what she wanted or I was leaving for a few days.  I'm the main care-taker of the dogs, so it's often difficult when I travel.  Other traits, like her desire to take Oliver's beds and toys or eat his food also could have meant she's insecure, head-strong, or both.   Additionally, just before we adopted her, we had her fixed, which means a hysterectomy and her ovaries were also removed -- the hormonal shifts must have been difficult and confusing for her.  Having rented a carpet cleaner several times to clean the wall-to wall carpets in Drew's office and in the guest bedroom, and gone through cycles of feeling like she's over it, only to have another accident, it was getting old.  On the other hand, my grief-pains for Charlie had sunk to mild levels.

     In late August, I went to Eagle, CO for a splendid Shamanic training with Linda Fitch on working with dreams.  On the last day of the training, we paired off with a partner and did an inquiry about a question or issue of our choice.  I chose to examine Darla's house training problem.  Tuning in to my Spirit Guides, I got a very clear message -- she wasn't sure whether she belongs with us, also it was time to release Charlie's ashes.  Of course!

     After arriving home, we decided to make a day of it, take the dogs and my Shaman kit bag to the Haw River, where I had taken Charlie and Oliver a few times.  It had been dry and the creek next to our house had not flowed in a few months, but I knew that the Haw still did.  After walking for about 15 minutes, Drew made it known that he'd never been there.  I realized that I had been with my friend, Petra, and by myself, but not with him.  So, I guided us to a good spot for wading with some above-water rocks to put stuff on.  We brought the dogs out too -- Oliver loves water and will wallow in it on a hot day, but we had been teaching Darla its benefits too, she was cooperative.  

     I opened Sacred Space, then gave thanks and prayers for Charlie and for Oliver and Darla too.  Drew added a couple of lines.  It felt poignant, but peaceful.  Then we opened the substantial bag of ashes and, with both of our hands on it, poured the powder into the river.  It was heavier than I had expected -- the bulk of it sank to the river floor, but I knew that with time, it would wash away or be blended into Mother Earth.  A good friend in CO had given me two roses to be used in a ceremony of my choice.  I took apart the velvety petals, and we released them, watching the red and pink gently bob down stream.  It felt complete, so I closed Sacred Space.  The whole thing lasted no more than 15 minutes, but I felt things shift -- like a soft hug for us all.  After a while, Darla had perched on a dry rock in the river, but was not disturbed as I finished up.  Afterwards, we waded on dry land and all had a lovely hike along the river.  

     After coming home, my Spirit Guides said that the obstacle to entering Darla's ID on the pet finder site has gone.  We had her microchipped before we adopted her and were given instructions to enter her address, name, etc. on line, only when I had tried, the amount of numbers were far more than could fit.  I had tried several times -- breaking the long train of numbers into fragments, and had placed several calls to the adoption agency, to no avail.  Lo and behold, I entered the numbers with no issues and was able to include a beautiful photo, with important info.  Done!  

     Now Darla knows that she's ours -- there's not been an accident since, and Charlie's remains are with Pacha Mama.  This doesn't mean that his memory is gone, or that I don't still sometimes miss him, yet everything is in Ayni, or right relationship.  In this, there is peace.  

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    Author: Allegra

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