Month: April 2019

Back at my childhood home last week, I found something. My mother saved EVERYTHING! She served as Clerk of our community church for 33 years and saved all the church records and bulletins. She kept the programs for every funeral held at the church and all the funerals she attended elsewhere. Well guess what I found? The memorial service program for my favorite childhood teacher, Mrs. Johnson, my second grade teacher at Parkersville Elementary School! I LOVED Mrs. Johnson!

Second Grade was quite a transitional year for me. I attended three different schools in three different states during second grade. I started out at the school on Sewart Air Force Base in Tennessee where my dad was stationed…just a week or two, though, because we were reassigned to Florida, where I attended most of second grade. We (Mom, siblings and I) left Florida after eight months because of our troubles due to my father’s struggle with alcoholism. It was an abrupt departure with many mixed emotions.

It was the last few of weeks of school year when I arrived in South Carolina.  Mrs. Johnson was my teacher and she was very kind. The entire school was in a flurry of final preparations for the school-wide end-of-year program where each grade had a song or dance presentation. And how lucky for me that my teacher played the piano! I’d never seen anyone play one up close and my eyes were always glued to Mrs. Johnson’s fingers magically frolicking across the keys during rehearsals.

I remember the melody and dance steps to one of the songs where girls wore brightly colored skirts of paper flowers…

Step front, back 1-2-3
Step front, back, and-a 1-2-3!

And although I wasn’t able to participate in the program because of how recently I arrived at the school, I didn’t feel left out or isolated. Mrs. Johnson and the warmth of Parkersville welcomed me. She was the Balm in Gilead for my hungry soul.

Over the weekend my sister and I were at our family home continuing to purge closets and endless boxes of items my late mother had collected over many years. In Mom’s “Inspiration Room” closet, we found two fur coats she had inherited from her dear sister, our Beloved Aunt Lucille. One was an adorable custom design with a pleat and a bow, and a matching hat… So Coco Chanel… so fashionably Aunt Lucy!

Aunt Lucille was my favorite aunt…generous, kind, open-hearted, and comfortable in her own skin, with an adoring husband who was a reflection of God’s generosity and love. As my sister and I poured over cherished memories of Aunt Lucille, I silently reflected on her many lessons. Aunt Lucille was glamorous, sassy, and self-assured, but she also knew when to call for help. Unlike Aunt Lucille, I became overly independent. I fixated on it in so much that I felt I was a failure if my accomplishments had not relied solely on my effort.  It was difficult for me to be vulnerable and ask for help. I understand some of my reasons for this mindset and part of my earthly “metamorphosis” is about learning to surrender in order to receive things beyond my current view…to let go of control and be open more that wants to come. Truly, no small thing for a “do-it-yourselfer.” In a recent dream the Archetypes help me see the folly of my ways:

I have an itch in my back and can’t reach it because my arm is injured. A man builds me a short bristle brush attached to the wall so that I can rub my back against it to relieve my itch. But do use it? There’s a shift and I’m now wearing a short cloak similar to Aunt Lucille’s. I still can’t  relieve my itch. Then, to up the ante, I’m suddenly wearing a heavier full-length fur coat…luxurious, gorgeous… but I’m still unable to relieve my itch.

I chuckle seeing myself in this dream. Duh, Cheptu! Of course, my arm is disabled. Do I accept the man’s help? No, I’ll just bet me a fancy coat. Then I’ll get a bigger, fancier coat. The point is my “inner teacher” gave me an invitation to rely on the help being offered, but my ego went in another direction. Really, it’s not about the coat, nor the itch. It’s about the “arm” of my resistance–my “ego arm” being disabled so I can learn how to rely on the wisdom from my Greater Source. 

Sometimes we distract ourselves with material things thinking our issues will disappear. There comes a time to remove the cloak and deal with the source of the itch. Trust that you are being led, that you are being shaped and formed. Untighten some of that determination to do-it-all-by-yourself and allow the Universe to step in to do what it does with non-judgement, generosity, and power, and a little comic humor along the way.  Be humble and Journey Home.

Love,
Cheptu

P.S. The photo is not a picture of the real coat. Reach out to me if you are interested in learning more about Archetypal Dreamwork at nowjourneyhome@gmail.com. Thanks for stopping by!

 

Dream: I’m with a large group of African people…hundreds…walking through an underground passageway to a dock where we’ll board a ship. It feels as if I have been here before. We’re all walking in the same direction with a sense of purpose. Large metal rust-covered planks on the ground connect us to the massive vessel before us. It’s crowded, with hundreds, maybe thousands, and still more to get on. I feel anxious, hoping there’ll be enough space for me. A lady is near me…tall, large, bold…like a Nigerian market lady in one of my children’s storybooks. She shows me how to call out to someone far away by using her powerful diaphragm muscles. “Yaa-Yaa!” she shouts in a gutsily strident tone. I call one syllable as loudly as I can, but not nearly as strong as hers. I finally get the hang of it and call both syllables heartily with my full voice.”Yaa-Yaa!” Mahershala Ali, one of my favorite actors, appears and stands right beside me! I feel comforted by his presence and know he’ll be with me for the rest of the journey. I like being both near him and the lady. I feel full, celebrated and connected to everything and everybody, including the Ancestors.

This is a celebration dream that means so much as I compare it to a much older set of dreams in which I was girl child stolen from my tribe, assaulted, sold in slave market and manacled in the bottom of a trans-Atlantic slave ship. I recall the misery of seeing men and women like me lying around in trauma-induced  daze, unable to help me. That set of dreams left me with waking life aching physical symptoms that took 2+ years of qigong and bodywork to clear.

But that’s not what’s happening in today’s dream. . In my ferry boat dream, not only am I returning to my geographical and spiritual home, but I’m also returning home metaphorically. “Home” in my body, “home” in my psyche…home in my inner support systems that are more accessible to me because I’m working through my trauma. There’s no abandonment or captivity here!

I’m enjoying the gift of feeling alive, celebrated and reconnected with throes of support all around me and in me. Mahershala Ali, who I greatly admire and respect, stands in the role of the Divine Male. He and the Lady are not frozen in trauma, but very present and alive. Mahershala in his tall, protective stature amd the Lady, big, free and gutsy. When residuals of old memory raise my anxiety and I get scared that there won’t be enough space for me, I must remember to go back to the Tall Man and the Big Woman,  acknowledge my need, and ask for their help. Just call on your inner support system of characters and your Ancestors. They’re always with you.

Many persons are born with the immense capacity to hold embedded memories and the energies of their current and ancestral stories. Our dreams may sometimes involve terrifying and mournful scenes, but the also show us the way out, towards our healing, and of course, the celebration.

My cultural/ethnic background and historical experience gives my dreams a particular flavor. Your “flavor” may be different because of your historical or ethnic background, but what’s common among us is that our dreams are always leading us “home,” back to our true nature, before the terror, separation, humiliation and deprivation. When we pay attention and open ourselves to their messages and partake of the “medicine” they bring, we can be led through true alchemical tunnels to reclaim our primalcy and potency. 

HOMEGOING . . . that’s what the Now Journey is all about.

With Love,
Cheptu

Thanks for stopping by. Reach out to me at nowjourneyhome@gmail.com if you would like to discuss the power of archetypal dream work.