I said to Jan on Sunday that it felt like the first day of spring—yes, January 31st! Temperatures in the low 50s, people out walking, time elongated to the point where by 8 PM it felt like 11PM, certainly time for bed!
The world is changing rapidly now. There is no going back. Though we ground ourselves in the familiarity and constant contact of social media, pervasive and lasting change is swooping in all around us.
I was delighted, on our timeless Sunday, to find and watch a documentary on Marion Woodman, renowned Jungian analyst, whose personal life and transformation speak eloquently to the coming death and rebirth of the world we live in as we undergo deep transformation. Her sharing of the rise of the feminine as the missing healing factor in our growth process is positive and quite hopeful. I couldn’t have said it better.
Waiting for the sun to rise… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
We are in the changing times. Mother Nature, Gaia, is in her element, leading us forward.I call to Gaia for true guidance, as we are indeed in her grasp. We are completely encased in her womb, at the early stages of her pregnancy, leading eventually to our salvation and ultimate deliverance. Though we cry out for deliverance now, that is not nature’s way. For now, we must stay contained and face the darkness of this pregnant time, this time of transformation.
Pregnancy is largely a hidden process where the mysterious forces of nature gather and coagulate the materials needed to eventually usher forth new life. Now these materials are being drawn from our changing environment and transformed, like frozen waters melting into rising tides. Mentally frozen attitudes are being broken down to allow for broader acceptance. Heightened emotions are the fiery energies of change. Naturally, the tensions created by all these energies contained within the womb cry out for relief.
And yes, we are drawn to the early release of this tension. We turn to the security of a “Trumpism” as the solution, but like all isms this simple solution is a miscarriage, not the needed rebirth Gaia now prepares us for. The truth is, we must bear the extreme tension of this time of darkness, this time of unknowing, as our world is being reshaped and reformed into its most fitting and natural next stage.
Every evening we dip into the darkness of sleep and the phases of the moon, with their own mysterious growth and healing processes. We cannot force a solution to new wholeness but must patiently allow the pregnancy to proceed, largely in the darkness too. We must participate with care and caution, responding as needed to the growing changes slowly and naturally taking place.
Just as the moon eventually becomes full, at the right time, so does Gaia ask us to bear this time of tension for, eventually, it will lead to right action. Rather than simply reacting and taking things too far in the wrong direction, Gaia teaches us to patiently evolve. When the time is right, right action will be born into a new balance, ready to sustain us as we embark on the next evolutionary journey, into infinity.
“What, Gaia, should we be doing at this stage?” I ask. Through Jan’s dream, recounted below, Gaia spoke. We pass it on.
From the debris and the dung a new world is forming… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
Jan’s Dream: Chuck and I are at home. He is a Master Plumber, teaching a class in plumbing. The pipes inside a wall are exposed and he is busy making repairs and explaining to his students what he is doing. “Don’t do this at home, ” he warns them. I stand on the side watching. I am worried about something.
Suddenly a giant praying mantis, the size of a hat, flies into the room and lands on my head. I feel it walking around, digging its claws into my scalp. I call out. Chuck turns to me and says: “Just get still, stay still. It will go away when it’s the right time, but for now just go into stillness.”
I stand as still as possible, bearing the tension of the praying mantis’s sharp claws digging into my scalp, squeezing my head. It starts to poop and I stand perfectly still while black shit runs down my face. The students want to clean it off me, but I tell them to leave it, that I will clean it off after the praying mantis leaves.
Then a gigantic yellow butterfly flies into the room. It circles around me where I stand in stillness with the giant praying mantis on my head and alights on my right arm. I try to shake it off, but it molds itself to my arm, encircling it like a giant tattoo. I stand there like that, in stillness, with the praying mantis on my head and the butterfly on my arm, waiting for what comes next. -End of dream.
Chuck’s Interpretation: Gaia sends the praying mantis to demonstrate utter stillness, while she clutches us in her grasp. This is the time of pregnancy after all, and we cannot undo what is already in motion. We must bear the muddied earthiness from the dung of the mantis as life is transformed. These are the dark energies of destruction we see and experience all around us. We must bear them, without taking action, in utter stillness. No matter how intense the pain or fear, we must remain still. It’s not personal. Gaia is gathering her materials. We are all part of that.
Gaia also sends us a butterfly, assuring us that transformation is happening. The process is underway, but it’s nothing we can force. Nature works in nature’s own time. The moon eventually gets full, the sun eventually rises again, the seasons unfold.
And finally, the Master Plumber points out: don’t interfere with nature unless you truly know what you are doing, which can only be from a place knowledge and right action. All of nature practices stillness, all of nature knows how to hold back until the time is right.
A new world is forming… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
Gaia’s new world is in utero, and we are all in it with her. Rather than worry or fear, let nature do it’s part, but stay with the practice of love. All those around you are part of the same whole new world—my neighbor, myself.
Gaia is speaking to all of us now, in our world and in our dreams,
Sometimes we wake up to a different world… not by choice, but by the power of nature… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
During my recapitulation there came a point in the process where I literally felt like I was shedding my old self and transforming into a new self. My body did not feel right. I didn’t fit into it anymore, even my clothes didn’t fit, and nothing about what was going on inside me fit either. Simultaneously, I began having dreams about snakes. Upon awakening from a snake dream I was immediately fearful. Snakes, after all, scared me. I noticed, however, that my dreaming self wasn’t afraid of the snakes, in fact she was quite calm in their presence.
I began to experience these snake dreams as supportive of my recapitulation, as part of the natural flow of my transformative process. I began to see snakes as offering healing venom and healing energy, rather than signifying something negative. I began to see them as giving back to me what I had lost, my own energy. Snakes became an integral part of my process as I shed the old self and became a new self, as I went through a viscerally real death and rebirth.
I pulled the Death card from the Tarot deck this week. It always appears so ominous, so negative, until I remember that it signifies this same process of transformation, as I shed the old self—old ideas, old habits and behaviors—and more fully embrace my greater potential. Life is full of transformational moments. Here I am thirteen years after beginning my recapitulation, still shedding the old self, even the self who evolved out of my three-year-long recapitulation process has been shed, as over and over again, I face myself and what life presents me with. In fact, the Death card, number 13 in the major arcana, is my growth symbol this year, so I know I must pay extra attention to this card overall. Each time it appears, it reminds me that I am changing all the time, and that there is nothing to be afraid of.
The thought that I am transforming all the time permeates my existence. We are, after all, nature, and nature constantly changes, in very obvious ways. One day the weather is calm and sunny. The next day we are buried under two feet of snow! Overnight things change. One day we are calm; the next day we might be agitated or moody. This is nature inside us, as we flow from day to day, just the way Mother Nature does, just as the stars and planets constantly move, align and realign, just as the oceans rise and ebb.
According to Angeles Arrien in her Tarot Handbook, the Death/Rebirth card symbolizes “the universal principle of detachment and release. It is through letting go that we are able to give birth to new forms… The snake reminds us that in order to transform, we must let go of old identities in order to be able to express new ones, much like the snake that sheds its skin…”
In Animal Speak, Ted Andrews presents a myriad of snake symbolism, but basically he too says that the snake is a symbol of alchemy—transformation—and healing. “Before the snake sheds its skin,” he writes, “its eyes begin to cloud over, as if to indicate it is entering into a stage between life and death.” I know this stage very well too, because during the time of my recapitulation my eyes repeatedly clouded over, in fact, they stayed cloudy for days as I remained in a dreamy in-between world, not quite the old self, yet not quite the new self either. I floundered between worlds, seeking to gain clarity on what had happened to me in childhood, while also seeking to gain clarity on who my future, authentic self might possibly be. It was a crucial time in the process.
It’s all about transforming and expanding consciousness… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
Everyone who recapitulates goes through this same shedding and until the shedding of the old is done true clarity will not reign. But once the old skin has shed, the eyes clear and new life really begins as one enters a world that was previously blocked from view. As fear sheds with the old self a new self emerges into a world that, all of a sudden, is different. It’s not, however, the world that’s really different, it’s our perception of the world that’s changed. Our consciousness has expanded.
As I entered my own world of expanded consciousness, my vision literally changed. The blurry vision I’d experienced during my recapitulation did clear; my nearsightedness practically disappeared too. Now I see more clearly than I ever have in my entire life. And what was once so clear to me, the details of my past self—what I peered at so closely during my recapitulation—are no longer as clear; they don’t need to be. In fact, my vision has totally shifted from nearsightedness to farsightedness. My eyes are free to turn outward now and receive the world with new clarity. My snake dreams pointed all of this out to me so long ago, letting me know that one day I would navigate life without my old fears inhabiting and inhibiting me.
Snakes and death are healing and transformational aspects of nature. I see the old people in my life losing their visual clarity, and I know they are in transition, soon to be reborn. In the throes of recapitulation, as in the throes of death, there is the certainty of new life. Every day, we too have the opportunity to be reborn simply by the decisions we make and in how we choose to see and perceive the world around us.
We are all free to change, but it requires giving energy to questioning who we really have the potential to become and trusting that we will eventually receive the answer. It’s our choice to decide to commit to deeper work on the self. Are we ready to make this lifetime a meaningfully transitional lifetime? Are we ready to finally do it? Are we ready to face our fears and suffer through the shedding of who we are to become our true authentic self?
In the throes of death and rebirth we are offered opportunities to transform and expand our consciousness and enter new life!
WARNING: Please note, as the title suggests, this blog contains adult content that may be disturbing. If you are in the midst of doing deep work it may be too uncomfortable. Please don’t read it if you feel you may be triggered.
It was important to keep going back into the woods, for as dark as it was that was where I found the light… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
By the time the second year of my recapitulation journey began I was confronting some very deep truths. I’d already recalled hundreds of visceral memories of rape, sodomy, and other forms of sexual assault, as well as deep emotional trauma. As hard as the memories were to accept, my psyche would not let me refuse them. I had to face what was coming through. Here is what I wrote on July 1, 2002:
The memories come like bombs, fast and furious, explosions taking place in my own private war zone. As the bombing missions fly overhead I crouch down and hide, shielding myself from their impact, but in so doing I know I’m refusing to connect with what’s being triggered at a deeper level. I catch a glimpse of something new as each memory bomb explodes, but I still refuse to fully accept what was truly happening to my child self. Jolted, the frightened self turns away, though it’s practically impossible to do so, for the pains are almost constant now, present throughout the day; my hands numb, my shoulders tense, my genitals sore and painful. I don’t have a choice in how this recapitulation process is unfolding—just as I never had a choice when I was a child—it’s just happening. I know what a frightened little bunny feels like; heart beating so hard you’d think it might burst.
On that same day, I went deeper still and confronted what was really being presented as my next challenge. I just couldn’t ignore it:
I admit that I’m avoiding the stark truth that my abuser was having sex, in one form or another, with a very small child, and that child was me. It’s been the hardest part of this recapitulation to accept. Even while excavating all the pieces of the puzzle of the unknown self over the past year and discovering the mysterious, hidden world of my childhood I wasn’t always able to face what my abuser was actually doing to me. Now as new memories torpedo into awareness, the truth presents itself all over again, but each time I admit that he was indeed having sex with my tiny child self, overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame come tumbling out of the depths of me. At the same time, I know I won’t be able refuse the blatant truth. I must fully accept what was truly happening so long ago, and my body insists, not letting me rest until I do. As soon as I lie down in bed at night and curl up to go to sleep, it all hits me again. Fear, pain, and the desperation of my child self come crashing out of nowhere, searing through my body like shrapnel. Much as I’d like to, I can’t really avoid the bombs. Even if I sit down on the couch for a few minutes of respite during a busy day it’s the same thing: BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The memory bombs go off and all I want to do is run, to look for safe places to hide, to keep moving, ducking and dodging the incessant attacks, but I know it’s not productive, nor is it really possible.
So shame and guilt arose from my deeper self and came to teach me my next lessons. I confronted the supposed bad self, the self who thought she was at fault and to blame for what happened, and the self who felt so guilty for partaking. By the end of the second year I confronted just how attached I was to those elements of shame and guilt, for they defined me, who I had always been, showing me just how deeply embedded they were in my psyche and just how attached I, a little Catholic school girl, had been—and still was—to their bitter presence. Almost a year later, on June 2, 2003, as I prepared to finally release myself from their cloying attachment, gaining even deeper insight, I wrote the following:
Aware that I’ve just barely stayed in control, by force of will and old habit, I admit to myself that I don’t really want to be the old self anymore. I don’t want to “hold on” or “hang in there.” Physically, I’m exhausted and I’m fairly sure I’ll be unable to keep up this charade much longer. I’m wearing down.
“Try for stillness. Go for stillness,” I hear Jeanne saying.
I barely remember concluding last week that I do indeed need stillness—unhurried, unstressed, quiet living—and a break from this torture. I hoard my feelings, afraid that when they’re gone I won’t have anything left inside me and yet this is my torture as well. At this point, it still feels far better, and safer, to retain my stand, though the children in my dream (from last week’s blog) want me to be a feeling being. Their disappointment was clear as I passed them by and drove on toward the house of fear and emptiness, rather than greet them with equal joy. If I let go, I fear that all that keeps me connected to life will go too, that all my desperate attempts to align myself somewhere in this world will disappear. Maybe I don’t need to try so hard, as Chuck constantly tells me, but there’s a part of me that cannot abide the idea of not being in control, the thought alone sending me into a place of deep shame and anxiety. I know that such deep shame stems from my upbringing, for it was expected that I handle everything so expertly, without a show of emotion; coolly, without expressing needs or desires of any kind. Rather than be scolded, I found it far easier to be the unemotional being that I was so often reprimanded to be. I deduced that to want affection and love were shameful weaknesses to be avoided at all costs, though I harbored a secret desire for them. I was a child full of what I considered shameful thoughts, desiring simple human touch and affection. And yet I do not blame my child self for such basic human needs. She needs to know that it’s perfectly acceptable to want and need simple affection, to know that it’s allowed and necessary. Love is allowed. It is, isn’t it? An epiphany: Love is allowed! Wanting to be loved is allowed too!
The whole idea of needing and expressing love, tenderness, and affection was presented as something shameful: don’t even go there, don’t touch or be touched, it’s disgusting! This is what I was taught at home. Emotions are disgusting; expressing them is disgusting, letting anyone know you have emotions or feelings is strictly forbidden. No touching, no gentleness, no love was exchanged between parent and child, perhaps very rarely a pat on the head, maybe, if I was sick. No hugs, no kisses, no emotional support. Such an unemotional upbringing is wrong. To make a person feel so ashamed and so emotionally isolated is wrong. To deprive another of the most basic of human needs is wrong.
On top if it, I had to deal with my abuser, but I see where his abusive affections, as perverted as they were, tapped into that void created by my upbringing. Even though his type of affection was totally aberrant, I wouldn’t have known that as a child. I had nothing to compare it to. Perhaps I was drawn to him as much as he was drawn to me. I was trapped coming and going. I had no choice. I was a child living in a family completely devoid of human touch and emotions, the most basic of which were squelched at an early age. And then I walked into a family where they took their clothes off and touched each other all over the place, where feelings I never knew existed inside me were drawn out. And then I had to go back to my own family, which, with its cold, distant, and strict Victorian morals was as insidiously abusive and bizarre as my abuser’s family. And all I ever wanted was for someone to simply love me, just for who I was. I just want to be loved for me; that’s all. I see how easily a young child, starved for affection, could be confused and tricked by the attentions of a pedophile.
And so, as I followed where my psyche led me, pushed me, and often times forced me to go, I gained valuable insights. New ideas began to replace old ideas. Old themes that had defined me began to crumble. In that crumbling came new life. I gradually learned to take with me only what truly belonged to me, only what I truly believed about myself and life in general. I learned how to shush up the old voices and how to release my child self from her unemotional upbringing. I learned how to love that child self, as I taught her what I was learning. Having been apart for much of the recapitulation journey, we now joined forces more often. We now knew there was more to life and more to us that had to be discovered and lived.
By the end of the second year of recapitulation I was transforming rapidly. I had burned a lot of stuff that didn’t belong to me, and I was emerging from the ashes a new being. I was evolving in a very personally relevant way. Freed of what I felt I had to uphold—an old world that I no longer fit into—I was becoming the real me.
Thank you for reading. I send love and wishes for good journeying,
Jan
For the past several months I have been studying the art of fermentation, an ancient process of preserving and transforming fresh raw food for later use. Most cultures around the world have some form of traditional fermented delicacy, whether eaten daily or looked forward to on special occasions. Even we Americans eat fermented foods all the time. Yogurt, cheese, sauerkraut, pickles, sourdough breads, tofu and tamari, as well as wines and beers, are all made using a fermentation process that involves containment in an environment that is conducive to growth. Containment is key if new growth is to be achieved.
Chuck and I recently discussed the nature of the times we are living in. The whistle blowers have been telling the truths for decades and longer, telling us over and over again that we are destroying the planet, that we are poisoning our bodies, our food, our environment. But have we heeded their calls? No. And that brings us to the truth of where we are now. The world as we know it has reached a point of no return. There is no way that we will ever have what we once had. We humans, by our greed and negligence, have forever changed the life of our planet. This is clear. It is also clear to me that we can no longer look to others to do the right thing. We have been waiting for someone with means and power to wake up and carry us forward, but in spite of some fierce arguments and efforts, nothing is happening in the world outside of us. And so, the way I see it, it’s time to stop looking outwardly for transformation and go inward, which brings me to the subject of fermentation.
The practice of inner work, changing the self in a deep way in order to evolve the world outside of the self, has never been more crucial than now. In containment, we offer ourselves the opportunity to transform. The process of fermentation offers insight into this process of self-preservation and transformation in a very practical and methodical way, resulting in healthy life-giving sustenance and the opportunity for new life.
I gather cucumbers from the garden, wash them thoroughly, put them into a container, add garlic, dill, and peppercorns, and pour a solution of brine—water and sea salt—over them until the entire pot is filled. Adding a weight to keep the raw foods totally submerged, contained within the transformative solution, I cover the container with a cloth, allowing just the right amount of air to enter and begin the process of fermentation. And then I watch and wait. I must be patient, but it doesn’t take long before I see activity. Within a few hours bubbles begin to form and the fermentation process is under way. The next time I look I see that it is percolating nicely.
There is continuous activity within the container. How could it be otherwise? The temperature is right, the ingredients are right, and the solution is right, but the key is that all of these things are being contained—offered the opportunity to transform—single ingredients that by themselves are just that, lonely vegetables. I am looking for something new to emerge out of this process. I want my vegetables, the beautiful bounty of all my hard work, to evolve into something different, something lasting and delicious. Is this not the same thing we all want in our lives, our souls to transform into something everlastingly enticing?
Each day I must tend to my pots, skimming off what rises to the surface, accepting it for what it is, bacteria that has risen and become exposed to air, showing me that the process is functioning as perfectly as I intended. What is happening under the surface is that good bacteria are forming; the lactobacilli that we all know are so beneficial to our body’s health and immune systems. Transformative activity is taking place within my containers.
In the fermentation pot, all that is good and all that is bad go to work on each other. Forced containment means that one will win out over the other. In a balanced environment, with the right ingredients, the good bacteria take over and eat the bad bacteria. During the battle some bacteria rises to the surface and this is what I skim off. But I know that underneath, my intention to transform raw ingredients is well underway.
If we apply this process to the inner process of personal change, the same thing will happen. As we sit in containment, with the right ingredients of spirit and intent, and submerge ourselves in a transformative process, we will begin to see changes. Before long the real truths of the self, the good bacteria, awaken and overpower the untruths, the bad bacteria. That which we once valued and held onto but no longer find life-giving is allowed to release, perhaps thoughts, ideas, and lies that have held us in captivity, exposed for what they truly are. Once skimmed from our conscious awareness, we are free to return to our container, now filling up with good bacteria—new ideas, thoughts, and truths about ourselves—and before long we discover that something has happened to us on a very deep level; we are different. Without the old bad bacteria infecting our souls we now have the opportunity for the good bacteria to multiply and transform us into new healthy beings.
In allowing ourselves to be contained, in taking back our outer projections and need for others to fulfill our deepest needs and desires, we offer ourselves the opportunity for self-nurturance and self-love to blossom—the good bacteria that changes the very fibers of our beings—just as the raw vegetables change within the good fermentation solution.
Raw ingredients waiting for the process to begin...
Recapitulation is the process of fermentation, an intentional journey of change. We must remember that we are beings who already contain all the right ingredients. And the solution is the decision to turn inward and let them percolate. In containment we allow the ingredients that are our deepest selves to sit in the solution that is our intent to change, where they lie submerged, fermenting and changing. Eventually they will reemerge in new form.
It’s not that hard to get started—remember all the ingredients lie within—but it does take patience and fortitude to stay with the process, to stay contained while we go through the transformation that our spirits seek. Checking in each day, as we wrestle with our demons and our bad bacteria, we must remain aware that everything that arises, all the struggles for truth and good bacteria, are necessary parts of the process. I also know that if I open my pots too early I will not get the results I desire. And so I taste the ferment throughout the process, checking that it’s working right, that it smells good, but I know that I must be patient if I am to get what I desire. And so I turn everything back into the solution again, weigh it down, cover it over, and wait. When it’s done to my liking, I’ll know, because it will taste exactly right! Just as I know that my inner process has done its work, because I always feel exactly like the real me when I’m done!
Our inner work is always waiting for our inner process of transformation to begin. Though it may be too late for our planet, it’s never too late for that! We just have to turn inward and let the fermentation begin!
Thanks for reading, and good luck as you take the inward journey, Jan
