Tending to the womb of creation
Notes on my surgery
I am having surgery this week to have a fibroid removed from my uterus. It’s an extremely common procedure, the doctor says. But nothing about what’s happening is commonplace for me.
For a year, I’ve been having irregular periods and excessive bleeding, probably largely because of this benign growth that has taken residence in my womb space. A sign and symptom of imbalance on multiple levels. Hormonal, yes. But also energetic, emotional, and financial.
Two months ago, I had heavy bleeding that lasted 16 days. I was so depleted. I nearly fainted one morning as I tried to stand up from my bed. I ended up at the local clinic getting an emergency IV drip. I sobbed, looking at the tube feeding nutrients into my arm. I was in disbelief, seeing myself like this. I felt sorry for myself. It was a slap in the face. I realized I can’t continue to do things the way I’ve been doing.
What can I say… I am a stubborn human. Until the issue becomes a matter of life and death, it’s far too easy for me to breeze past the early warning signs, barely slowing down. But this is no longer business as usual. Everything in my life has come to a halt now.
This surgery will surely put an end to lots of inconvenience and discomfort for me — even though it is not an emergency, and technically not medically necessary. I am spending a big chunk of money for my care and my comfort. I am undertaking a lot of effort to organize logistics and travel for this elective surgery, while asking for a lot of support.
This is not my typical mode of operation. For most of my life, I’ve been the strong one, who doesn’t rely on anyone else. I’ve focused on others’ needs first, while looking to my own needs last. But this time I am making myself the priority and reaching out to my village for support.
Why am I sharing this story? Because I see it as mirroring a big shift taking place now, in the collective.
Mother Earth (our body) has been screaming at us, loudly, and for a long time now. Much in the same way my body has been screaming at me. Yet we persist in our unhealthy patterns, barely noticing.
We have to decide. Life or death. Not for her. For ourselves.
Whatever origin story you prefer: whether it’s cosmic, spiritual, geophysical, or something else… we can trace time back to a primordial womb, from which life emerged. Something sacred. Something ancient. Perhaps even timeless. In the core of our being, we hold a sense of wonder at the brilliant technology of human embodiment — the Great Mother.
As creature and form, we are limited. That limitation is what makes the experience of life so precious. It is what elevates both body and planet beyond being mere occurrences; indeed miracles.
Mother Earth has given to us silently without complaint for eons, forgiving our excesses. She has waited patiently to be seen and appreciated. It is only now as she roils at the severity of imbalances that we can finally see how much she’s been tolerating, how much she’s been holding. It is only now that we notice what we’ve taken for granted all along.
Humanity has become so draining for the Great Mother; she stands poised to cut us out for the sake of restoring balance to herself.
Having reverence for the Earth that holds and supports us means honoring the feminine principle in all bodies. For me now, this translates into tending to the sanctity of my own womb space. It means that stopping the bleeding, no matter what it takes. Literally and metaphorically.
I am choosing to cut out what has become overgrown. I am surgically removing my over-doing addiction, with its shadow of wanting to be seen as capable. I am intentionally taking out my over-giving addiction, with its shadow of wanting to be seen as generous.
There’s so much creation I am already holding, and I know there’s a lot more creation that wants to come through me. But it is so clear to me now: none of it can flourish without me feeling good in my body.
Once upon a time, we were balanced and sovereign in our capacity for creation. Before we started locating sustenance some place so distant from us. Before we depended on what is manufactured externally, rather than on what is generated within. But then somehow Life’s vessel — this Earth, and our bodies — got neglected and desecrated. We got lost in a fog of collective amnesia about the substrate of our very existence.
Now we are remembering what it feels like to be self-sourced in our power again. We are unwinding the tentacles of extraction from our mind-body system, one by one. We are coming back to wholeness. We are owning responsibility for the immense creative power we wield.
Cutting this fibroid out of my body is also, symbolically, a clearing of debris from a distorted template of feminine energy. A template of striving that poured too much mothering energy into nourishing what could never stay and grow with/in her. A template of misunderstanding that obstructed the open space where she’s meant to receive provision.
These imbalances are ending with this surgery. I am making space for creation to move in a balanced, harmonious way: human or non-human. Once complete, my upgraded body will have the capacity to birth new life, new love, and a New Earth of beautifully abundant realities.
I have extracted from myself, treating my life force as an infinitely renewable resource. But it is not. I can no longer spend boundlessly, investing in singularly held dreams, or pouring into others’ well-being, while draining my own accounts. Now I know. I must take responsibility for protecting my safety and vitality as the foundation of everything.
What is meant to be created through me can only become real when I am regulated, resourced and rooted in my own energy.
We are activating new codes of feminine leadership: grounded in the body; connected with the Earth; and devoted to Life. We are building ecosystems that have no need for hierarchy, superiority, control or extraction games. Now we can only be moved by mutual desire, willingness, receivership of blessing and the true generosity that flows from excess.
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