Carving Out The Not
Posted: Thursday, January 22, 2009
by Camille Strate
JoyZAChoice
It was an unusually sunny day in seattle. Weekend of the annual Bumbershoot Festival. Music & artisans & food at every turn, there was lots to take in. It was not the first time I'd attended, but certainly the one I'll always remember. For that one beautiful man who changed by world.
He was sitting behind his display tables, well protected under the canopy of his booth. There were tall wooden boxes that held the many pieces he'd already completed. Ranging in size from waist high to over the top, each piece was as stunning as he was. I was completely enthralled. I stopped to watch him as he worked, trying to be silent, not wanting to disturb him. I was so fascinated by his hands & by the work those hands produced. I stood there for a very long while, trying not to breath for fear the sound would distract him.
His response surprised me almost as much as the pieces themselves. He told me that he had nothing to do with how they 'came out'. He said that it was merely his willingness to listen to the tree's spirit. He said that inside each branch was a part of that tree's spirit...& his job was to listen for it, then, ever so respectfully, use the tools to help let it out.
I remember tears rolling down my cheeks as he spoke. I remember not being able to respond (verbally) to what he'd told me. I remember that at that moment, it felt like all those thousands of people there at the festival had suddenly disappeared & all that were left were him, me & those tree spirits.
To say that it changed me is an immense understatement. It was such an incredible moment that, to this day, when I think of it, it still brings tears to my eyes. I bought one of those tree spirits...& he kindly carved my name onto it. I still have it. It's a walking stick...& it has purple suede around the top part of it where my hand rests as I walk. Every time I touch it, I can feel the charge of energy that it holds. It is one of my greatest treasures. But the reason is very different now.
For the past few days, I've been experiencing some very intense pain in my bones. Usually it's manageable, but lately it's been so deep it's made me nauseous. That's a whole lotta pain. When this happens, my usual course of action is to sit in a hot tub until the water gets cool...& then just go lie down until I fall asleep. It's the only thing that helps (short of taking a bunch of pain-killers, which I don't like taking.) Usually, once I've slept for a while, the pain lightens up enough for me to carry on. But yesterday...well, yesterday was a tough one.
After trying to muscle my way through it for hours, I finally decided it was time to say 'uncle' & just go lie down. Even this didn't help. My cat came & laid down with me, purring & licking my hands, doing her best to share the love. With tears rolling down my face, I prayed that it would pass...RIGHT NOW!
At last, I fell asleep. I didn't sleep well, as each time I moved the pain shot through me. But I stayed in bed until my bladder screamed. When I finally stepped out of bed, I walked as gently as I could to the bathroom, and got in the tub. As I laid there, I realized something that my sister told me.
She said that the pain was like the excess stuff that needed to be removed to uncover the 'real' me. She said that, like a sculptor, it's not about creating a piece, it's about removing what's in the way. She reminded me of the work I'm doing with wood & how it's all very much the same. She also reminded me that this process, all of the pain included, is my soul's way of breaking out.
When I heard those words, I remembered that beautiful man & his tree spirits. I was right back there again...watching him work. Only this time, it was me he was helping, not those tree spirits. It was me he was helping to set free from the 'not' parts. Somehow, just thinking about that made all the pain disappear...even for just a little while.
Think I'll keep this one in my pocket.
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Top-level comments on this article: (4 total)Hi Camille.I just wanted to say 'thank you' to you for writing this.DianneDianne ~ You are so very welcome. This was (& continues to be) a very deep lesson for me. One that I KNOW will result in some very big life changes. All good! Hugs to you, Bella (beautiful, in Italian)
Such a beautiful story Camille. Thanks so much for sharing it with us allMy great pleasure, Myla. I'm so glad you enjoyed it!
HI Camille, I am sorry for your pain, but thankful you have this memory in your heart that brings some peace. Many hugs to you, dear friend. TeresaDear Sweet Teresa~
Please...please do not be "sorry" for my pain. I know what you're trying to say & I am truly grateful for your heart....but here's the thing: the whole point of this is that the "pain" is what I am NOT. Hence the title "carving out the not". You see, I believe that often times we spend much of our lives doing things that are, perhaps, not what we're meant to be doing. And so, if we aren't paying attention, after many 'tries', maybe it's the only way that we can hear what The Divine is trying to say. This journey I'm on...I believe with all my heart, that it's a journey to wellness. To wholeness. To all that I am. And if this is how I must reach all of that, well...that's just as it should be. I would prefer, if you are so inclined, to have your prayers, not your sympathy (hope you hear what I'm sayin'!).
You, dear heart, are an angel among us & I know you will keep me close in those prayers. So, I thank you in advance!
Be well, be blessed & keep being YOU!Hi Camille, of course you are in my prayers for wellness and I know pain is a part of the process. But pain hurts while it is present, and that is the part I am sorry for, meaning I hurt with you. But it's not sympathy in the sense that I think there is no purpose. I for one, can be a sissy when I stub my toe and it throbs :-)Thanks for always hearing my heart above all else.
hi camille,it's almost like we can interchange lives for a day.i've come to learn that it is the deepest hurts, the most intense disappointments, the letting go of the frustrations we are faced with,that we have the most chance for change.i hope you feel better,my best regards,sueYes ma'am. You're absolutely correct. Now...if we can just get on with the "letting go" & the "allowing" part, we'll be in fat city, huh? Thanks for your warm wishes, Sue. Hope you're feelin' terrific too!
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