Presencing - Covid in first person
After one whole year playing hide and seek, we decided to change the game and play tag, and we got caught. While hiding out, I used my time to participate in online consciousness groups, learning to feel parts of my body, to feel ourselves as collective, to make space, to not judge. And yet, we were eventually tagged. An unexpected guest took us out of our hideout: our family´s most loved assistant. Now we all have Covid.
And me? What I have learned during the last few years of my life, to be present and connect to presencing, instead of escaping to the future, helps. My entire body aches. It is a non-stop ache, like echoes of the birth contractions of my children. I remember how much I resisted them with my first-born son, so much that eventually the doctors decided to rush the delivery and use forceps. My daughter knew better, she never turned upside down and it was done through a C-section.
Why am I going back to those days?
I read how the virus works. I like to know what is actually happening. The pain is the virus, attacking my cells, entering them and reproducing inside, eventually killing them. My body’s response is to defend itself, inflaming tissues. Is there anything I can do?
I decide to make space for the pain, but I still take painkillers to be able to rest. I make space, but I’m not good at resisting pain. That’s who I am…
I feel this is the moment to evolve, to let go of the skin that was choking me, and become a butterfly. Why was I so afraid? Why, as a collective, were we all so afraid? Why do so many people die?
I let go of what was, I can do that.
Last year I also learned about intention. And now what?
I have the power to direct that space of presence, to accept what will happen today (even if it is death), and make space for the best future to emerge.
And the gift arrives during a dream, my cells merging, dissolving in a mass, with pain and intention, within the cocoon. Remembering the intention is crucial, that shapeless mass is in excruciating pain while dissolving, but it knows where it is going, and so do I. I must focus on that knowledge, and make space without judgment.
Little by little I start to feel my bones again, I am lighter. My stomach, with each breath, pushes everything to the right place, making space, sorting out organs. Each breath makes me expand and feel every corner of my body, reaching out to places that were blocked before.
I can inhale and exhale, I can be present in the process. The pain slowly wears away, letting me reach out to those places I could not feel before, and finally, it’s just an echo.
We have no idea what the future will bring. But what I do know is that the space is free for it to emerge.