Storytelling and belonging

(Poem and Image: @bodyandearth, Erin Kress)

I've been reading Belonging:Remembering Ourselves Home by Toko-Pa Turner and it's had me feeling all kinds of things. Through this process I've been on my knees, I've cried and screamed and pounded the floor with my fists. I've laughed and smiled and been mesmerized by her ability to weave entire worlds with her words. She is a true storyteller.

To me, an authentic storyteller is someone who doesn't necessarily write beautifully or eloquently, but they write honestly. The truth in their sharing is felt by others as an invitation to recognize themselves in the depths of the story, and to then step into and participate in their own life's unfoldment.

Storytelling is encoded in our cells. It is not only an art form, a means of communication or how traditions are passed from one generation to another; but it is an entire way of life... an alchemical compass. Knowing our personal dialogues and taking part in our scripts helps give meaning to our lives and allows us to shape the direction we take. From the beginning of recorded history storytelling has had its place at the center of culture, because it is how we co-create with the dynamism of our existence.

I am not even halfway finished and she has already covered the Mother Wound, more specifically the Dark and Death Mother archetypes, the sacred role that isolation and wandering play in our lives, community and letting our wild creative genius have the freedom to birth us anew. Her writing and message remind me a lot of Bill Plotkin's book Soulcraft but her voice is artistically unique and unapologetically feminine. (I love Plotkin and his books too, they just speak to different parts of me).

I have been diving deep into my family dysfunction, my wounds around childhood and growing up with both a father and mother who had severe mental illness. I have also been diving into the wound that says I'm not worthy enough, beautiful enough, intelligent, capable, or talented enough. I can see where my inner child is hungry for love but feels ashamed and unloveable. I can see how this universal, core wounding effects everything in my life: relationships, work, parenting, creative liberty, and so on. I feel so very lucky to be seeing, facing, and at times genuinely embracing these aspects of myself. These are the catalysts for each rites of passage, they are what initiate us into the deeper life.

I'm still in the dark, yawning caverns of the unknown. Expanding beyond my comfort zones outwardly while simultaneously descending further down into myself. We'll see where the rest of this book invites me to journey next!

I want to also say thank you to all who have read, commented and engaged me here on Steemit. I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I joined but a handful of you welcomed me so warmly to the community and continue to stoke my creative fires, both by connecting and by sharing your own stories and content. I find new and wonderful people everyday and feel so grateful to have found this magical place.