Many of you already know because I’ve been talking about it incessantly, that my horse, Rio, had surgery last week. I’m so grateful to all of you who held him in healing light!
Rio had a rotten tooth that could not be pulled because the surrounding teeth were too close. If you are squeamish, don’t read the next sentence. The vet removed it by cutting through a bone in his face and taking it out through his sinus cavity. He now has about a 2-1/2-inch tall backward “C” pattern of staples in his left cheek. And, although he’s not too happy to be confined to his stall for the next few weeks, Rio is doing quite well.
I’ve been playing nursemaid while he’s been in this delicate place. Which has made me think about how we humans handle our own tenderness. I think we’re generally much better at holding healing space for others than we are for ourselves. Maybe that’s because we often view our tenderness as weakness. Or feel that when we are hurting that we are somehow broken.
To me, healing is a cycle–a continuing one for all of us. We feel strong, then we don’t, then we feel strong again, and so on. The need for healing does not mean we are damaged. It means we are resilient. The question is, when we are in a fragile place, can we be okay with it? Can we meet ourselves with compassion and nurture ourselves back to our fullness? Can we be quiet enough to hear what our bodies and our hearts are trying to tell us? Do we even recognize when we need care?
It wasn’t until after Rio’s surgery that I realized that I was in a tender place. I was employing all the tools in my toolkit to stay centered, yet I still worried. I now understand why. The horse I had before Rio died unexpectedly. One moment I thought he had a strained leg muscle and the next I was discovering that he had broken his pelvis and had to be put down. Different horse, different story. But it was an unhealed wound lurking in my consciousness. Like a tired, old song playing in the background at the grocery store and suddenly you realize you’re unintentionally singing the lyrics.
Rio’s ongoing recovery has offered me space to heal that old wound. And the cycle assures me there is always more healing to be had.
On May 15-16, depending on where you live, there will be a Blood Moon Lunar eclipse in Scorpio, the sign of death and rebirth. This type of eclipse is rare and potent, and most astrologers say the energy of this one will be a doozy. Scorpio energy has a reputation of being pretty intense. The Blood Moon gets its name from the color the moon appears during a total lunar eclipse. The name conjures all sorts of drama, doesn’t it? But instead of worrying about what “deaths” are in store, perhaps a better use of this full moon time is to seek out the tender places in ourselves, ask them what they need, and hold space for their healing.
My friend, Maria, and I are offering an opportunity for those of you in the Denver area to do just that this Saturday evening, May 14. We’re hosting a Full Moon Wild Wisdom Wander where we’ll tune into the wisdom of nature, the wisdom of our bodies and the wisdom of community. We’ll slow down, breathe deeply, and feel our way into the tender places with love and respect for ourselves. Here is more information.
Despite the intensity of Rio’s surgery, he doesn’t seem to have lost an ounce of his strength. My sore shoulder can attest to that as he has continued to yank me toward patches of green grass on his two allotted walks per day. Just like the fabled Phoenix (which is tied to the Scorpio archetype) he is rising from the ashes into the fullness of his power.
May tending to your tender places allow you to do the same.