June 13, 2007
Psychomotor Structure Twenty Something
I'm back from my annual Psychomotor experience with Al Pesso and my diminished but dear and dedicated group. I am sorry to say that I spent my structure time in a somewhat altered state and am therefore a most inaccurate reporter. I do remember talking about my anxiety about signing an offer on a little space of my own, and all the dreadful fantasies I have managed to conjure up at the edge of the unknown, when I should be absolutely thrilled.
The space of my own has been in the manifestation tubes ever since my mother's death in 2005. I am purchasing it (well, part of it) with my inheritance from her. I looked a lot and even made an offer on a place that wasn't quite perfect,. The space represents differentiation, which was the high crime of my childhood. My mother did not tolerate our differences well and promptly annihilated each one as it appeared. I learned to hide all those slivers of myself that did not meet her approval, and accumulated quite a pile. Getting a space of my own is laying claim to something I don't feel I have the right to have. No wonder I'm anxious.
(Aside: not only did my Pesso Group meet this weekend, but my ladies group has met twice in the past two weeks as well. Last weekend I attended a two day seminar on increasing one's inner spiritual resources with two dear friends from my Abraham group, and my nutritionist popped into town from Savannah -- let's say I had a lot of support from the universe for this developmental step.)
But I digress. In my psychomotor structure, I inhaled a wisp of smoke, a ghostly aspect of myself --one that I had never brought into consciousness --- and expanded my internal cathedral to accommodate it by making harmonious overtones using Tibetan toning while accompanied by my ideal mother. All in all quite a pleasant experience.
Turns out, however, that it was all was a little much. The internal cathedral image was too grandiose for an inner space that could hardly accommodate a choir. I awoke Sunday morning with a tight chest which I thought was due to a mold allergy. Of course, it was a somatized response to "getting too big for my own britches" (to quote my real mother) and required more expression and containment by ideal figures before it could be relieved.
I do remember that the sounds that sprang forth from a rather pithy part of myself on Sunday prompted Al to ask for assistance closing the windows, lest the neighbors be disturbed. There are no neighbors within eight acres of the house, so I assume the sounds were formidable.
Thus I have been launched into a new developmental adventure. I am meeting the inspectors tomorrow, so I will have some pictures to post
Photo note: A roving stencil artist sprayed this on the side of a local building. When I shot it, I thought I might find it useful.
Posted by Dakota at June 13, 2007 06:38 AM