Luna Nueva: Reclamar mi Pertenencia a la Madre Tierra como Derecho de Nacimiento

Scroll down to find this essay in English

Las plantitas, listas para ser adoptadas por mis amigas.

Hay tanto que ocurre interna y externamente durante las transiciones, especialmente cuando me mudo de un apartamento donde cultivé recuerdos con familiares y amistades, celebré logros y lloré por los duelos experimentados aquí. Esta vez, mudarme es una experiencia catártica de muerte y nacimiento. Muerte, ya que dejo ir todo lo que ya no sirve a mi propósito. Nacimiento, porque me permito recibir abundantemente de la Madre Tierra. He llegado a mi hogar exactamente en el momento de mi partida.

Mi cuerpo es mi Sagrado Cántaro. Soy mi propia tierra prometida. Mi hogar está dentro y me lleva a donde quiera que vaya. Este hogar esta enraizado en el poder y la resistencia de mis linajes. Mamá, mamita, mis hermanxs y nuestras comunidades me han enseñado mucho sobre adaptación y expansión. Los nuevos comienzos traen esa sensación fresca y dulce de preparar un nuevo suelo para cosechar futuros arraigados en la descolonización y la interdependencia de la humanidad con todo lo que nos rodea en parentesco.

Dejo ir la ropa que no se ajusta a mi propósito.

Dejo ir las historias de victimización que aprendí del trauma en mi cuerpo.

Suelto.

Siete años es el tiempo que mi familia vivió en un campamento de refugiados en Honduras. Yo nací allí. Tenía tres años cuando empacaron mi primer hogar terrenal (carpas) para que más de diez mil refugiados salvadoreños pudieran repatriarse a El Salvador. Mi hermana Ruth escribió un ensayo poderoso sobre lo que ella recuerda de ese día Abrazando Un Hogar Invisible: Cinco Años como Refugiada (versión en inglés).

Estas experiencias colectivas me enseñaron mucho. He estado incorporando estas lecciones. Algo que me llamó la atención hoy, mientras empacaba mis maletas, es este sentimiento de asombro, esta deslumbrante energía de superación al reconocer que la migración es un derecho de nacimiento. Mis antepasadxs ​​lo hicieron para dar nacimiento a nuevas formas de ser, para respetar los poderosos ritmos de la Madre Tierra como nuestro hogar sagrado. El baile que he estado danzando estos últimos meses, preparándome para el viaje de mudarme a un lugar diferente, transmite una sensación agridulce.

Por un lado, hay tristeza por no poder tener rituales sagrados en persona para decir ¡hasta pronto! a mis amadas colectividades, hermanxs y amistades que he cultivado a lo largo de los años en esta hermosa tierra. Tengo tanta gratitud por esta tierra que me ha sostenido y nutrido. Aquí, mi relación con la Madre Tierra se ha profundizado, la he reclamado como mi hogar. Por otro lado, acepto la emoción por el nuevo nacimiento al aceptar que mi viaje ha cambiado. En mi mente, cuerpo y espíritu, anhelo construir nuevas formas de ser, existir y alejarme del viejo equipaje y las pesadas sombras que he cargado durante años.

¿Cómo se siente ser vista, escuchada y apreciada por mí misma?

  • Reconocer mis apegos y honrar la liberación encarnada con rituales sagrados.
  • Tomando espacio, energía y tiempo para nutrir mi mente, cuerpo y espíritu.
  • Dar a luz nuevas formas de conectar con el espíritu de mis antepasadxs.
  • Integrar todos los aspectos de mi viaje con amor incondicional.
  • Celebrar el despertar del presente con risas, danza y alegría.

Hoy celebro particularmente cuánto he estado atendiendo todos los aspectos de mi anhelo, enfocándome en ir un día y una tarea a la vez. He estado encarnando mi ritmo sagrado con una disciplina impecable. Estoy celebrando que en medio de empacar, soltar y gestionar los procesos logísticos y administrativos que requiere una mudanza, también he estado enfocando y priorizando mi visión-propósito para el 2021. Estoy centrando mis valores, colaboraciones y ofrendas alineadas con esa visión. Incluso he escrito una visión de 200 años para que las siete generaciones venideras puedan vivir el futuro que estamos construyendo, cultivando y sosteniendo colectivamente ahora como una especie interdependiente.

Cargando sólo lo más esencial para el viaje.

En este último ciclo lunar, he aprendido que construir una práctica de sanación arraigada en mi propósito espiritual con ofrendas que sirvan a un colectivo requiere tiempo, energía y disciplina. Encuentro poderoso equilibrar el mantenerme enfocada en el mapa de ruta de mi visión, encarnar mi medicina para guiar a aquellxs que la buscan y sostenerme para no agotarme. Mamita Virginia los llamó “remedios caseros preventivos”. Una gran parte de esta peregrinación interior ha consistido en encarnar la autocompasión y la auto-abundancia, buscando apoyo de quienes han estado caminando conmigo desde lejos: amadas familias, maestras, guías, wooes, hermanxs, amistades y colectividades globales.

Llego a este nuevo comienzo con la aceptación de la incertidumbre, la risa y la alegría de los aprendizajes sagrados. Soltar es una práctica sostenible que ha abierto espacio para la creatividad, la claridad y la escucha profunda con el corazón. Me siento muy dispuesta a las posibilidades más allá de este momento que se siente como si estuviera “escalando el Volcán Izálco” –-oportunidades para sembrar nuevos jardines y formas de Ser tanto conmigo misma como con aquellxs que solicitan mi acompañamiento en sus viajes. En el futuro, quiero encarnar la celebración como lo hice cuando era niña, bailando bajo una tormenta en el patio de la casa de mi mamá. Hoy en día soy capaz de danzar bajo una tormenta de nieve en esta hermosa tierra porque la Madre Tierra me ha recordado que le pertenezco.

Danzando en honor a esta Tierra que me sustenta.

¿De qué están agradecidxs en este momento?

¿Dónde están notando la muerte y el nacimiento en su vida ahora?

¿Cómo están incorporando las prácticas de verse, oírse y apreciarse a sí mismx de la manera que se lo mereces?


New Moon: Reclaim Belonging to Mother Earth as Birthright

There is so much that happens inward and outward during transitions, especially when moving out of an apartment where I cultivated memories with family and friends, celebrated accomplishments, and shed tears for the losses experienced here. This time, moving out is a cathartic experience of death and birth. Death, as I let go of everything that no longer serves my purpose. Birth, as I allow myself to receive abundantly from Mother Earth. I have arrived home exactly at my departure. 

My body is my Sacred Cántaro. I am my own promised land. Home is within me and takes me wherever I go. It is rooted in the power and resilience of my lineages. Mama, mamita, my siblings, and our communities have taught me so much about adaptation and expansion. New beginnings bring that fresh, sweet sense of preparing new soil to harvest futures rooted in decolonization and the interdependence of humanity on all that surrounds us in kinship.

I let go of clothing that does not fit my purpose.

I let go of the stories of victimization that I learned from trauma in my body.

I let go. 

Seven years is the time my family lived in a refugee camp in Honduras. I was born there. I was three years old when my first earthly home (tents) were packed so that more than ten thousand Salvadoran refugees could repatriate to El Salvador. My sister Ruth wrote this powerful essay about her experience of what she remembers of that day Embracing an Invisible Home: Five Years as a Refugee.

These collective experiences taught me a lot. I have been embodying these lessons. Something that struck me today as I was packing my suitcases is this feeling of amazement, this dazzling energy of realization in acknowledging that migration is a birthright. My ancestors did it in order to give birth to new ways of being, to respect Mother Earth’s powerful rhythms as our sacred home. The dance I’ve been dancing these past few months, preparing for the journey of moving to a different place, enacts a sense of bittersweetness.

On the one hand, there is sadness at being unable to have sacred in-person rituals to say hasta pronto! to the beloved collectives, sisters, and friends that I’ve cultivated over the years in this gorgeous land. I have so much gratitude for this land that has sustained and nurtured me. Here, my relationship to Mother Earth has deepened – I have claimed it as home. On the other hand, I embrace excitement for new birth by accepting that my journey has shifted. In my mind, body, and spirit, I am longing to build new ways of being, existing, and moving away from old baggage and heavy shadows that I have carried for years.

How does it feel to be seen, heard, and appreciated by myself?

  • Acknowledging my attachments and honoring embodied release with sacred rituals.
  • Taking space, energy, and time to nurture my mind, body and Spirit.
  • Birthing new ways to connect with the Spirit of my ancestors.
  • Integrating all my journey’s aspects with unconditional love.
  • Celebrating the awakening of the present with laughter, dance, and joy.

Today, I am particularly celebrating how much I’ve been tending to all aspects of my longing, focusing on going one day and one task at a time. I have been embodying my sacred rhythm with impeccable discipline. I am celebrating that in the midst of packing, letting go, and managing the logistical and administrative processes that a move requires, I have also been focusing and prioritizing my vision and purpose for 2021. I am centering my values, partnerships, and offerings that align with that vision. I have even written a 200-year vision so that seven generations ahead can live the future that we are collectively building, gardening, and sustaining now as an interdependent species.

In this last moon cycle, I have learned that building a healing practice rooted in my spiritual purpose with offerings that serve a collective, takes time, energy, and discipline. I find it powerful to balance staying focused on the road map of my vision, embodying my medicine to guide those who seek it, and sustaining myself so that I do not burn out. Mamita Virginia called these “preventative home remedies”. A huge part of this inner pilgrimage has been embodying self-compassion and self-expansion, reaching out for support to those who have been walking with me from afar – beloved families, teachers, healers, wooes, sisters, friends, and global collectives.

I am arriving at this new beginning with acceptance of uncertainty, laughter, and joy in sacred learnings. Letting go is a sustainable practice that has opened up space for creativity, clarity and listening deeply with my heart. I feel abundantly open about the possibilities beyond this moment that it feels as if I am “hiking the Izalco Volcano” —opportunities to plant new gardens and ways of showing up both in relationship to myself and those asking me to support them in their journeys. Moving forward, I want to embody celebration as I did when growing up, dancing under a thunderstorm on the patio of my mama’s home. Nowadays, I am capable of dancing under a snowstorm in this beautiful land because Mother Earth has reminded me that I belong to her.

What are you grateful for in this moment?

Where are you noticing death and birth in your life now?

How are you embodying practices of seeing, hearing, and appreciating yourself in the ways that you deserve?



Copyright © 2020-2021, Erika Murcia | Todos Los Derechos Reservados

Writing as a Bridge between Death and Life

Throughout 2019, I wrote more frequently. Writing from emotional, spiritual, intellectual, and bodily sensation perspectives. Writing poetry. Writing my memories and anecdotes of my mother in her multidimensional life experiences. Writing as a storytelling tool was my automatic way of responding to my pain. And a powerful habit. Writing on actual paper. It was, at the same time a conscious response to gently show my Spirit its path through one of my worst metamorphoses. Either way, I am very grateful for doing so. In Indigenous mystique, this whole process means that I was shedding my Serpent skin.

In September 2018; mother, a powerful and resilient Medicine Woman had a stroke. She fell into a coma. This was a devastating process for me and my family and still is. It was especially hard for me, as this happened two days before my birthday. As a believer of a deep spiritual Indigenous mystique rooted in Mother Earth, I feel this has been one of the hardest tests I have been exposed to. Death and life are fully intertwined.

Mother was in such a vulnerable state for ten weeks. One of the first barriers I experienced was being separated from her physically, as she was in El Salvador. Also as a working-class family, we could not afford private health care and had to go through all the systemic bureaucracies that impoverished and working-class families go through within public hospitals. These barriers are only an example of how little control we had during this radical change. Hence, the hardest to deal with.

I still remember how my body trembled the moment I saw my mother connected to many machines at the hospital. During the entire time she was at the hospital (September through December 2018), and most of last year after she transitioned, I had panic and anxiety attacks daily. I still get mild anxiety moments, but less regularly. All of these experiences are normal to my grief process. It was both a traumatic and stress-inducing change.

In December 2018, after my mother passed on, I felt as if life did not have a purpose. Though, this process of feeling uprooted pushed me to dive into a mindful reflection. Through her unconditional love, she gave me the trust, freedom, and courage to pursue change and transformation.

Journaling, and seeking for holistic medicine supported me being present in my pain and all the emotions that came with it. Aha moments kept me rooted. One of the reasons it has been harder for me to let go, was because in my body, her death felt like a part of me died with her and part of her spirit was born within me. Confusing, right? Not really!

Everything was difficult to grasp. I kept having dreams about my childhood. Dreams about her life experiences, her storytelling. Those dreams did not allow me to rest at night. The lack of rest only exacerbated my irritability, anger, and fear during the day. I was hurting and my mood changes also brought up behaviors and words with which I also hurt loved ones.

Change has been the daily tortilla for me since I was born. And even though I embrace it most of the time, adapting and transforming requires radical love expressed in nurturing energy and time. It requires a lot of intentionality and patience. 2019 was the most challenging because this painful and saddening experience woke the most creative and healer aspects of my Spirit. What a way to end a year and decade, ha!

Through my writing, I realized these contradictions. In the beginning, I resisted because I felt it did not make sense to be joyful and happy in life when my beautiful mother passed on. Suddenly I would feel a drastic change of mood from guilt to anger and a spectrum of emotions, all of which are normal. At the age of nine, I used to tell my mother very boldly, I will be a writer one day and my writing will be published in other languages. Her death reconnected me with a deep desire to finally sit to write, to fill my days with writing. In writing poetry, journaling and writing my mother’s memoirs to share with future family generations, I kept slowly feeling more awakened, more connected to my Roots. I was Reclaiming Home. I felt a powerful responsibility.

Building new positive habits and returning to inner rituals during change is hard for me. Writing has been the most constant one, which led me to seek other tools to support my healing.

Some of the things I’ve noticed are that to decrease stress, little by little I had to combine various tools. To allow movement in my new process, I needed to NOT run away from fear and anger, and instead HEAR what they wanted to say. One big part came from journaling, at-home yoga practice, meditation, poetry, and coloring rituals that require my time and my presence, no money involved. Another big chunk comes from holistic medicine including talk therapy, massage, acupuncture, and swimming; which requires a lot of planning, prioritizing, and monthly budgeting because financial resources are indeed limited. 

I owned my pain even if people told me I was a “hot mess” and even if they could not deal with the new me. It was my opportunity to not be okay, to keep trying and making sense of all the pieces at my own pace. There is not a “grief formula”.

The third source for Reclaiming Home healing practices are creating and setting new boundaries with loved ones. This is the hardest for me because navigating, nurturing and sustaining healthy relationships while healing takes time, energy, being vulnerable, and the aspects of acceptance and owning being hurt and hurting others. In this process, I also realized that I was craving connection at a deeper level. Somewhere to crash. Somewhere to be nurtured. Therefore, taking time away from social media and choosing social spaces that filled my soul was empowering. Even decreasing the consumption of food that hurts my body was part of choosing. I choose to feel alive instead of exhausted. Reaching out to my partnerships and friendships to host me and feed me for a few days. Unconventional retreats. There is a privilege in that. As a non-US citizen, this is not the case for anyone who goes through these huge metamorphoses. I speak English. I speak Spanish. Most of my life this skill set has allowed me to build community and trust across cultural borders.

I’ve started to notice the benefits of being responsible with my mindful well-being. I am aware that the process of practicing compassion and being patient with myself have supported reconnection with my Creative Medicine. These guided me to reclaim home rooted in a healthy radical healing practice to repair my sacred body, mind, and Spirit.

I’ve recovered my seven-hour sleep cycle after a year and a half-sleeping only 3-4 hours. I am now embracing the sensuality around healthy homemade food. My ancestor’s food.

Change continues to teach me lessons to recognize how resilient I am. Change this past year has reminded me that I am a creative healer. This has been my journey and I deeply believe each human being can find a tune with their inner Medicine. It may look very different from person to person, that does not mean there is a “wrong” or “right” way to do it. One can evoke power in one’s very specific way, and healing is never about “fixing” oneself and/or assimilating into ideas based on toxic social conditioning. Healing can be a self-paced guiding process of what one’s main needs are. During change and in any type of heartbreak, it is normal to not feel or not be okay; while at the same time trying ways to peacefully release the stress, whatever its roots are.

How do we as a global community hold space for our shared stories of death and loss in supportive ways? 

What are rituals rooted in your ancestral wisdom that allow you to feel more connected during moments of death, loss, grief and change?

In this moment of global pandemic and the feeling of global loss: 

Are there intentional ways you wish to be supported while you support your loved ones?

Also, if you have not joined my blog yet, please subscribe to Sanadora Soy directly on my website. 

Sending light and love to all.


Full summer moon

Great Mother
I feel you even if I don’t see you
Awaken inside my spirit
Your force has kept me alive
Intuition
Is your voice

Great Sister
I sense your light
That grows deep
My soul
Breath
It is time to slow down
Observant I am

Pachamama
I call you with my inner desires
Traveling between worlds
I want to balance
Transitions
Speaking human languages
And the spiritual ones

Full summer moon
Invites me to harvest
A life full of spiral cycles
Re Earthing
Unlearning
Undoing
Forgiving
Letting go
Returning home

Email: sanadora.nomadicspirit@gmail.com


Copyright © 2020-2021, Erika Murcia | All Rights Reserved