To Belong
Exploring the interweaving of our origin stories with the felt-sense of belonging
I was born into a broken place. Many of us were.
From a broken body, I was brought onto this Earth,
a dewy little thing, covered in silt and hardly breathing.
The first life I touched was that of my mother’s. As I spent 7 and a half grueling months growing in her womb, it had decided that our time was up. My entrance into the world was like so many others. Born at 3 pounds and premature, toxemia wreaked havoc in my mother’s bloodstream. A 21-year-old white woman from the Central Coast of California giving birth to a mixed baby, an outcast in her own society.
I don’t think she ever really wanted children, but a family. I could always sense the strained connection between my mother and motherhood. Not really cut out for it, she struggled in her temperament, in loving sacrifice, and in the emotional availability I demanded. And so, I stopped demanding. Like all of us, I did what was necessary to stay attached to her, even if it meant burying my own needs. I learned to float atop the waters of her enraged outbursts, how to occupy my mind when she withdrew into the darkness of her bedroom. I learned how to hide from her, and eventually, from myself.
I, fortunately, grew into a woman that never wanted to hide again.
But in between that time, I created an entire world inside— one that only I could access. It feels like a labyrinth sometimes, never-ending halls filled with doors, a maze of my own making. Although this creation was made for my survival, it is also my gift. I am agile and sharp, penetrative and attuned. I know how to find what I am looking for in the mind (womb) of most people. This is why I was born so methodically, relying on science and God to save my life, to a mother who was sick and helpless, wailing and at the mercy of the resources available to her.
Art: @anna_cunha
Our birth stories are like our own personal mythologies, crowded with vibrant imagery, fantastical characters, plot lines, destruction and rebirth, paths of heroism. Our birth stories are saturated with threads from the ancestral realm, callings, wounds, and gifts that ask to speak with us.
Unbelonging
Being born into brokenness taught me about “unbelonging”.
I know what that felt-sense is like. To feel as though you don’t quite ever belong to anyone or anything, as if you were never meant to be a fixed part of this world.
Belonging has been explored throughout time— expressed in tribal groups, in family units, in faith, in societies and cultures. It is a concept often grappled with by writers, poets, artists, and laymen throughout history. Research shows that belonging is directly related to a person’s stature in their self-concept, identity, sense of self-worth, quality of life, and overall health. There have even been studies that correlate the feeling of belonging to the longevity of a person’s lifespan. Isn’t that fascinating?
Belonging has been a deep wound for me, cradled by life experiences that mirror the medicine back. The “inner world” I mentioned earlier, is one I am often reluctant to share, preventing me from real intimacy with most people. It has been my secret place for so long, a quiet humming in my belly that doesn’t stop. This hidden place has become a barrier in my ability to feel seen, known, and to belong.
Listen to a song of love, vulnerability, and (un)belonging.
Art: @the.black.gaze
The Reading
I recently received a reading from an elder in the South American region. The first question she asked me is what land surrounds me. Mountains, bodies of water, forests, etc. What land do I frequent? What land do I have an internal connection/attachment to? What land did I grow up on?
I was caught off guard by this inquiry. Being American, we are hardly ever asked to engage with the land in a meaningful way. And when she felt into my path, she immediately associated the lack of belonging I felt with the way I entered the world.
“The only remedy,” she replied, “is the land.”
The land is your guardian.
The land is an ancestor, too.
“The medicine is found in the land. The belonging is found in the land. The search to fill those swirling voids is over. Develop a relationship with the land and it will hold you. In fact, it’s the only body and being that can.”
At this point, my mind was spinning. I didn’t realize how neglectful of that relationship I’d been. But when I felt into my self, I deeply yearned for and missed her. The Earth, the mountains, the ocean, the forests, the rivers, the streams, giant trees, small flowers, wild animals, creature-teachers.
I belong to them. I belong to them all.
Being Seen
Since that reading, I’ve worked with the land in intentional ways. I’ve hiked Table Mountain to see the seasonal wildflowers and Phantom Falls, leaving offerings of tobacco and orange peel. I’ve traveled to the mystical island of Kauai, ocean swimming with the fish and immersing myself in the waters of Waimea River. I’ve also spent time in the front yard watching the birds, lighting candles, praying in the shower, and taking the flowers the boys bring me very seriously.
I’ve learned that more than anything else, it’s critically important to allow myself to be seen. The parts of me that I hide from, the parts of me that ache and feel heavy, the parts of me that are stained with sadness. And also, the parts of me that break open in reverence, that feel wonder at the slightest change of the sky, that emit joy when surrounded by people I love. Those parts are important, too.
And if you’ve made it this far, you may struggle with your own sense of belonging and the fear of being seen. But let me inquire this.
If you don’t allow yourself to be seen, who do you think you’ll be seen by?
Will they be people you want to belong with?
It is quite devastating to feel unseen.
But what do you make of it?
How does feeling unseen impact your calling and what you’ve been put here to do?
How does feeling unseen influence your quality of life?
When will you decide you are worthy of being seen?
How will you decide to show yourself?
I will leave you with a beautiful excerpt from one of my favorite books recommended to me by a dear friend: The 13 Original Clan Mothers by Jamie Sans.
Art: @anastasiia_aleksieieva
Though nothing stirred in the forest, no breeze blew through the boughs of these Tree People, Talks with Relations heard the voice of the ancient Redwood. It pointed out to her that with her arms arched upward, her body created two circles. The circles formed a figure eight. The upper circle met the lower circle in her heart, with the upper one encircling the Sky Nation and the lower one connecting her to the center of the Earth Mother. It was as if she were standing on top of one circle and holding the other above her, using her body as a cross-connection between the two.
“These are the two Medicine Wheels of life,” Redwood said. “The human beings, like the Tree People, have the ability to be the balance between the earth and the sky. When the Two-leggeds reach for the most they can be, the Sky Wheel brings messages from the Spirit World to them through their human hearts. The Earth Wheel allows the plants, stones, animals, and elements of nature to be the Earth Mother’s teachers and interpreters of those spiritual messages. Human beings understand and feel the messages that the Great Mystery sends by observing the actions of the teachers that these Planetary Counterparts represent.
Meeting in the heart, both Medicine Wheels show that heaven and earth, the spiritual and the tangible are equal and one. You see, Talks With Relations (feminine archetype), the only true limitation of being human comes when the heart is closed. When the heart is open, all of creation can be accessed and understood.”
Both Spirit and the Earth have messages for us, our vessels sacred and translucent to receive. Is your heart open and willing to belong?
Thank you for being here and remember that you are loved,
Diauni
This deeply resonated with me, thank you for your words <3