Sunday, September 16, 2012

Dolphin Assisted Therapy

Day 3 was the day for Dolphin Assisted Therapy. First we had a class meeting in the morning to check in about the previous day's ocean session.  In addition to a tense discussion initiated by a classmate, and my own sharing about feeling cranky after the ocean experience, I was paired with a 14 year old girl, the daughter of the teaching assistant, and I was not happy about this.  She was there under the condition of having promised to participate as an adult. But she wasn't capable of that. Instead she'd check out during sessions and barely share anything about her experiences during our meetings. She was a child. And I viewed her as a crack in the container; I didn't feel safe with her in this context. Not at all. Luckily, before I even had the chance to discuss this with the teacher and insist on having a different partner, the teacher said, "on second thought, let's have mother and daughter experience this together. Rebecca, you're with Nuno." Nuno was the teacher in training. Much better! Lucky me.

After the meeting, we boarded a boat to go back to Unexso, where we'd been for the dolphin swim on Day 1. As soon as I saw the dolphins, the yesterday's crankiness and the morning's tension melted away. We were all paired off, standing on a platform in the water. Each of us would have twenty minutes to float with our partners supporting our bodies however we wanted (i.e. hands at feet or head, hands under sacrum and head). There were 2 dolphins, Coral and Cayla, who would come and interact, or not, however they wanted to.

Coral
Nuno asked me to just lightly support his ankles. And he spent most of the time with his head underwater, just coming up for air when needed. During this time, I focused on Nuno as much as possible and silently requested that at least one of the dolphins give Nuno plenty of attention. And Coral kept hearing my request. Cayla, Coral's mother, spent the whole 20 minutes in one place, between two of my classmates. But Coral kept coming and going, often popping up right behind Nuno, as if standing up in the water. And she'd look at me when she did this.

I tried not to look back so much, since this was Nuno's session, not mine. But I couldn't resist. She was just so cute! We had several short eye gazing sessions each time she'd come over and stand up behind Nuno with her flippers open wide as if wanting a hug.

I was in love.

And then it was my turn.

I had a feeling Coral would be giving me plenty of attention since we'd already been bonding. But I knew I had to release expectations and just be open, even open to the possibility of nothing other than hearing the dolphins speak and swim by.

I started out the way Nuno had. With the head farthest away from the platform and Nuno just holding my feet. But after a while my neck and upper back felt they needed more support, so I turned myself around and asked him for more support, placing my head in his hands. I floated there in a very receptive posture, my palms facing up and arms slightly, or largely, away from my body. Although tempting to open my eyes at times, I kept them closed so wasn't always sure what was happening. But at least one of the dolphins kept coming to visit me. I'd be lying there with my arm stretched out and suddenly I'd feel some part of a dolphin arrive in the palm of my hand and just park there. I'd wonder if my hand was on her heart. I had no way to know for sure. Later I found out that both Coral and Cayla were coming over to me frequently, and at one point towards the end, I was between the two of them with one hand on each.

One thing I remember very clearly is that at least one of the dolphins kept knocking into my hands and arms, especially my right wrist and elbow. And not just bumping into it, but repeatedly and intentionally doing something to my arm. I wondered if the right arm had to do with the 60 plus sand flea bites (yeah, I forgot to mention that in previous entries), or with the on and off again repetitive strain injury I've had over the years. Or perhaps something else?


Cayla
Something else I remember is that water splashed in my face. I didn't know for sure if it was meant for me until Nuno later told me that Cayla had suddenly showed up at some point just to squirt water in my face. Very directly, very intentionally. Pretty sure Cayla was the dolphin I'd been with during the majority of the dolphin swim, so when Nuno told me this I felt it had something to do with the playfulness we'd found towards the end of our swim.

And whenever the dolphins were not in direct contact with me, during that 20 minutes, I'd just float there and focus on opening up more and more. I'd think about being love. Radiating love. I hoped that would attract them, bring them back to me, but even if it didn't, I'd feel great so it wouldn't even matter.

I could just float there so full of love and radiance and joy that it wouldn't even matter if I didn't get any more "special" attention. But usually within what felt like a minute or so, one of them would come back and physically touch me or I'd hear and feel one swimming right below or near me, speaking a mysterious language that seemed so full of meaning.

It's been a bit more than two weeks now since Dolphin Assisted Therapy, and I'm still feeling those dolphins, one in particular, with me. So much so that on the plane to Croatia, I'd wake up periodically, look around in a daze, and find myself wondering, "Am I a dolphin?"

I know it sounds strange, but I had this really strong feeling as if this dolphin Coral was not only with me, but inside of me, as if seeing/experiencing life through me. And I hear dolphin sounds in my head on and off all throughout the day. Go ahead, call the loony bin; I don't care; I kind of like it.

And actually, it's not so crazy. I told my parents, and they said "Maybe it's true. We don't really know what dolphins are capable of with those big brains of theirs." So I did some research. The funniest result was a Yahoo question "Are dolphins telepathic?" The top answer? "They seek to destroy mankind. Beware."

On a serious note though, there is quite a bit out there about dolphins being telepathic, and I even found something about dolphins and astral projection; they only turn off half of their brain when they sleep: "This means that dolphins are the ultimate lucid dreamers in that they exist both here and on the astral plane simultaneously! Scientists have studied this phenomenon in dolphins...."

Maybe Coral astrally projects herself around to visit various people who have swam with her?!

I don't know.... I don't need to know.

This is one "how" and "why" I'm fine with not understanding. And perhaps that, in addition to being more playful, receptive, and just simply being love, is part of the dolphins' medicine.

Not letting the desire to know or understand ruin the magic, hinder the creativity, or taint the imagination.

So excuse me if I am sometimes at a loss for words now and instead just start laughing because what I really want to do is just make dolphin sounds and find a body of water to jump into. But that's just the way it is. At least for now....
Just found this picture of Coral that somebody else took. I love it!

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

The Ocean

It feels so long ago now. I can barely remember. Perhaps it’s a sign of aging; I did turn 33 between then and now.  ;) Then was just 2 weeks ago though. Then was when I was in the Bahamas, spending hours in the ocean. How quickly I forget. But only in my head. My body remembers. My heart feels it. My soul knows. The memories and words will come back now. And so it goes:

My 2nd BioAquatic Therapy session was in the ocean. The first one had been the previous day in the pool, and it had totally rocked my world. When we arrived at the white sandy beach, our 2 groups of 4 got started right away. It was a different group than the previous day. I was with 2 new people, and 1 who had been with me in the pool. I was happy to be with her again since I’d felt unable to provide enough support. But now I understood through having experienced being the client; now I understood better what to do in the therapist role. Now I could make it up to her. And I did right away; she went first.  

I went 3rd, after lunch, on a full stomach. I’d watched the two before me get used to the waves sometimes splashing onto their faces. And although we had a nose plug to use, it seemed that it wasn’t necessary after some adaptation time. But I wasn’t so sure how, or if, I would adapt. I did a better job of supporting as a therapist this time, but felt that the ocean was challenging. I did my best to surrender into being the client when it was my turn. I truly did trust my group. I truly did feel safe with them. But the ocean felt unsafe, and like a nuisance to me. The unpredictability of the waves. The salt water suddenly splashing into my face. I didn’t like it. And yet, I went into a deeply altered state again and again, each one interrupted by what felt like an annoying wave making it harder for me to relax. This feeling of being interrupted kept coming up. And yet I’d go right back into a deep therapeutic state within a minute or two-- not that I really had any conception of time, but it seemed fairly quick.

This session was very dance like again. I was even asked afterwards if I was a dancer. The way my limbs moved. The way my body twisted and turned. This session seemed to have a lot to do with my arms and legs, but especially my legs, and especially my knees. At some point my legs felt as if they were trying to detach from my body; they were stretching out so much. At least once or twice I was aware that my left leg was reaching down towards the bottom of the ocean while the right was what felt like up in the air and being held up by one of the therapists. And then I felt pain in my knees, especially my right knee. Immediately I knew what it was. It was anger.

Anger over what?

The car accident? Maybe. The nerve damage? Maybe. The limitations imposed by self and others? Certainly. And my legs were angry at me for how often and how easily I forget about them. Or at least how easy and often it used to be; over the past couple of months I’ve been running energy in a way that’s been helping me get more grounded and connected into my legs. So that’s been good. But still they were angry. Perhaps holding some grudges and now trying to let go.

And my knees? They don’t want me saying they’re nerve damaged. They say they’re just perfect. Not damaged. They say to keep moving. Keep loosening up my lower back. Keep visualizing all those nerves functioning properly. They want me to feel. To allow myself to really feel. Even if it hurts. Because that’s better than being numb.

This all wasn’t so clear during the session though. Just little bits. Couldn’t really fully process what my body was saying with so much repressed anger and pain running through me, trying to express and escape through my legs. It was intense.

There was also lots of sighing. Loud sighing. Sometimes sighs of relief. Sometimes sighs of annoyance.

The session ended with me feeling really good about some things with the session, but mostly I just felt really cranky and ready to go back to the hotel. There was still one more session though. I had to go into therapist mode. And so I did.

The next morning I shared in class that I was still feeling cranky and that the ocean was not my ideal treatment room for giving or for receiving. I said that I felt safe with my therapists, but not necessarily with the ocean. At times I felt supported by the ocean and like I’d merged with it. But then suddenly something would happen that would annoy or irritate me. I kept feeling interrupted. And although I obviously kept surrendering to it, it all just left me feeling not so good. Certainly not “high” like the pool session.

And then the teacher’s assistant spoke up. She said that she’d come over to assist my group for awhile. She said that although I was saying I didn’t really like being in the ocean or feel so safe in the ocean, I took the group out so far into it, so deep that they could barely touch the ground. She even got sea sick.

Hearing this created a shift in me. A light bulb. Oh, it’s all in my head. The rest of me felt totally safe. The rest of me loved the ocean. The rest of me was ready and wanting to go deeper. Sometimes even too deep for others, or my own mind, to handle. But I could. And I did. And I can. And I will.

And with that I stopped dreading returning to the ocean the next day. Instead I felt curious. What will it be like, now that I’ve done it? What will it be like, now that I know what I’m capable of?

I’d find out soon enough. But first? Another day with the dolphins. More on that another time….


© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Monday, September 10, 2012

A Visit from Mungasulwa


-->Today Mungasulwa visited me. I was sitting on a bench next to Master Li, at the Sheng Zhen Gong Teacher Training here in Croatia. Jing was up on stage leading the class through the Union of Three Hearts meditation. Within less than a minute of shutting my eyes, Mungasulwa approached from behind and came around to my side. I smiled. I even almost laughed, because of course Mungasulwa laughed. Nobody else could hear it. But I could. And I love that laugh of his, the way it fills a room, the way it fills people's hearts. Thank God there's a video of Mungasulwa laughing

It's been a bit more than 5 months since I heard of his passing. Someone I barely knew passed away and I wrote about it within just a week. It's taken me many months now to write about Mungasulwa, someone who was so close, so important in a very present and active way in my life. I get teary eyed writing that but then have to laugh again, because every time I start to cry over Mungasulwa, I see his face, a twinkle in his eyes, a sweet smile, and he says to me in his Malawian accent that I love so much, "What are you crying for, my friend?"

And immediately I understand. Instead of crying, I smile. Sometimes even laugh. And that makes me want to cry again. And we go in this circle a few times until finally I'm ready for him to fade away again while still knowing he's always with me. Whenever I need him. And this is actually sort of how it was when he was alive as well.

I’ve referred to him as a friend, a confidant, a teacher, a healer, and even as a father figure. My relationship with my own father is good, but there are some things I wouldn’t discuss with my dad, or if I did we’d certainly not be on the same page about it. But Mungasulwa and I, we spoke the same language. So much so that it got to a point where I didn’t need to call him to hear his voice; I could hear it, and I knew or could pretty much guess what he’d say. That’s how simple and pure he was. That’s how connected I felt to him. And I still do feel that connection. And here he is again appearing as I write that of course, because of the tears coming. I want to say, “Will you just let me cry over you?! They can be tears of joy, you know?” To which he replies, “Of course.” But it’s impossible to cry in his presence. He’s like some super-charged healing crystal and an angel all in one.

In a sense, I was well prepared for his passing, in terms of no longer being able to talk to him on the phone or in person. I was used to these imaginary, or telepathic, conversations and meetings. But I was so sad that he hadn’t told me that he was dying. It really hurt me to find out not only that he was gone but that there was time to say goodbye. And yet the last time he’d left a message for me, I didn’t return the call. I thought about returning it, and then thought that just thinking of him was enough. I missed my chance. It was only a couple of weeks later that he was gone. The last time I’d spoken with him, other than in my head, had been months ago. I’d just left messages a few times that he hadn’t returned. I was even a bit concerned. And then he finally calls me back and I don’t return the call? Now I can cry. I can cry over that.

I can also forgive myself for it. “What does it matter anyway?” he asks me now. “Here we are.”

It’s true. Whenever I want to talk to him or see him, he’s here. And yesterday I didn’t even have to intend it or request it. He just showed up. It was a pleasant and welcome surprise.

Thank you, Mungasulwa.  Thank you for so many gifts. Your generosity when we first started to get to know each other at the Nevada City Sheng Zhen Teacher Training, meeting with me all those mornings to work with my subconscious to help me feel more at ease in an uncomfortable situation, gifting me those healing sessions and that meditation cd that I used regularly for so long and still return to. Your wise words. Your laughter. Your hugs. You and your wife welcoming me into your home and helping me figure out how to pitch a tent before I continued on my way. All the times you listened to the same old stories with patience and compassion and love and great advice, never judging, so accepting. 
  Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’d say I miss you and wish I could see you, but you’re right here. Thank you for that as well, my friend. I love you and am so very grateful that you came into my life. It’s forever changed for the better because of you.




© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

BioAquatic Therapy, Day 1

--> I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I signed up for this. The main draw was having guaranteed non-touristy dolphin interaction on 2 of the 4 days of this program. It wasn’t until the end of the final day that the teacher revealed that this class ended up being more like the “advanced” class than the plain old “craniosacral” class. Probably because the majority of our small class already had experience with multi-therapist sessions in the water. No wonder….

The first water session was in a pool at the hotel, on Day 1, after the morning’s dolphin swim. It was said that we’d just be getting used to being in the water, getting used to treating and receiving in the water. It was also said that this practice time might turn into an actual treatment session, and to take as much or as little time as we needed. We were 2 groups of 4 with occasional assistance from 1 teacher, 1 assistant, and 1 teacher-in-training.

My group actually got started without me, since I’d run back to my room to get something. This was not the ideal way to begin, especially since it was already appearing to be more of a therapeutic session than a let’s-get-used-to-being-in-the-water type of thing. And the “lead” in my group had been in the Bahamas all summer taking one of these classes after another. I was surprised by some of the things happening, both with the client and with how the other therapists responded. I felt like I had no idea what to do. And I was unable to tune into the craniosacral rhythm. The teacher told me not do anything then. To just keep my hands on and follow the body. She said I’d learn through experience. I felt pretty useless though as I assisted the 3 sessions before it was my turn. I even found myself thinking, “Great, I’ve got 3 more days of this? This definitely isn’t for me. I just want more dolphin time!”

Well, although I’m still clear that being a therapist in the water is not my calling, it turns out that being a client in the water just might be.

My first session, this pool session, was like an epic journey through time and space. It started out with me just floating on my back with 3 pairs of hands supporting various parts of my body. At some point there was a 4th pair of hands. I don’t know how long I spent just breathing deeply and telling myself I was safe, but suddenly there was no more mental chatter and no need for mantras or affirmations. I surrendered completely to the water and the hands supporting me. And my body experienced a kind of freedom that I’m not so sure it’s ever felt, and yet it felt so familiar and so right. As my body elongated and contracted, twisted and turned, arched and curled, I felt as though I were traveling through lifetimes. But it wasn’t like past life flashes; it was far more abstract and even ancient, as if I’d gone back to being some sort of microorganism not yet evolved into this human state. For lack of a better word, it was AWESOME!

At times I felt like a baby in the womb. At times I felt like a little old lady. At times I felt like an animal—ah, yes. The animal. At some point something happened that resulted in what felt like my spine moving back and forth in an s-like motion, and my whole body slithered through the water. Whether that’s what it looked like, I don’t know, but it sure felt like I was slithering and almost in a thrashing around type of way, like I was trying to break free. Not necessarily break free from the hands that were supporting and following me, but something deeper and again, more abstract. I felt like a wild beast!

And then somebody put what felt like a thumb on the top ridge of my bottom teeth applying very slight pressure. It had a soothing effect, as well as sort of affirming this animal-like feeling that had been awakened in me. So odd, and yet so perfect. Not sure why she did it or why it had the effect that it did, but it was one of the highlights of the session.

And when I was done, I felt like a whole new person. Lighter, brighter, happier, more excited, more free in my body and in my mind. I was so eager to write about it and yet it’s taken me a week to find the time and the words. I doubt this does it justice, but it’s a start….


© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

The Dolphin Experience


Tuesday feels like so long ago, after 4 days of transcending time and space. There's something that happens in the water, whether an ocean or a pool, when 6 to 8 hands are on you, melding with and following your body, assisting it with all kinds of movements, positions, expressing, re-membering, releasing.... there's a sense of timelessness and although quite embodied and all about the body at times there's also a sense of formlessness, of being just some micro-organism or pure energy, no body. Things like walking and talking feel somewhat foreign now, unfamiliar, not so easy. I've been speaking as if English is my 2nd language or like I've been somewhere speaking some other language (dolphin?! ;)) for so long that my brain is a bit confused, leaving out words, and not as articulate. But I'll try now to share, using words, even though I still feel as if I'm in the water and I hear dolphin sounds and waves everywhere I go. Will this wear off? Do I want it to? Maybe a little, at least enough to speak and write more clearly again! ;)

So, what happened on Day 1? After arriving the previous night, I woke up excited to finally, after 5 years, be at this program for BioAquatic CranioSacral Therapy and Dolphin Assisted Therapy. After meeting with the teachers and 7 classmates, we headed out to Unexso for our first dolphin enounter: 20 minutes in the water with a dolphin assigned to each of us, 4 of us in the water at a time, in a lagoon (so a natural, but contained, setting). The dolphins here are unique in that in addition to doing dolphin assisted therapy, they get time to swim freely in the ocean but always come back.



As I watched the first couple of groups, I felt my anticipation building. I hadn't had time to get into the water earlier, to sort of prepare my body and mind for it. I've never been super comfortable completely underwater, at least not without warming up to it. And I wanted to be so that I could feel free and confident to go under if that's what my dolphin was leading me to do. So I decided to just let go of any expectations. To just be open. To know that if it felt right to go under, I would, and if it didn't feel right then I wouldn't. Of course!

It was suggested to have some sort of intention, even if just to be open and meld with the dolphin and the water. That sounded good to me. I also asked for some guidance in navigating through some recent goodbyes and tugs at my heart.

When I got in the water, I was assigned a dolphin named Exuma. She immediately made eye contact with me and was very cute and playful, had a very nurturing energy. Immediate heart connection. Felt very comfortable. I kept a hand on her as we swam a bit. And then she left me! I figured she'd come back, but she ended up with someone else, and another dolphin came to me.

I think this was Cayla, who I'll write about when I get to the Dolphin Assisted Therapy day, but I'm not sure. This dolphin though was challenging me. Not the same energy, not much eye contact, and she really wanted me to go underwater with her. But every time I started to go down, it was like I'd forgotten how to breathe. Instead of holding my breath or breathing out, I'd start to breathe in. It was weird. I tried a few times and then just decided to accept that I was not going to follow her down and that if she wanted to swim down deeper than I did, then I should stop trying to keep a hand on her. It wasn't that my hand was preventing her from doing what she wanted, but it didn't feel right for me to be trying so hard to keep this physical contact only to feel her either go deeper or just swim away.

So I stopped. I took my hand off of her at some point and instigated a race instead! With her below the surface of the water, and me above. And I could see her eye looking at me during it. When my hand had been on her, she was going slow, as if trying to make it feel safer for me to follow, and she'd come up and down, but then eventually swim too deep for me to keep touching and then she'd swim away, but always return to me. And although it was cool to be touching a dolphin, I didn't really feel so connected to her. But when I let go and started swimming fast, while maintaining eye contact, she seemed to really like it. And so did I. We were more playful. Not so serious. Not keeping so "in touch" actually improved our connection. It was more relaxed and natural and fun for both of us. There was more ease, more trust. And it made me laugh. Yes, this was the perfect lesson or reminder for me-- to let go and trust, to not force things, to be open and receptive, to feel connected to the people and places I love even when not in touch...

That's all for now. And that was only the first half of Day 1. The 2nd half was my first BioAquatic session, and what a trip that was! More to come.... Until then, " eeeeeeeei eeeei, eeeeee! hhhnnngggrrr."



© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.