I was introduced to the concept of old stories through Lara Veleda Vesta and her profound work with Storytelling, Myth Path and Ancestral Connection / Reverence.
The old stories I choose to share are the ones that seem more pertinent, the ones that still require transparency on my part. Patience & understanding, and ultimately transformation.
I am to transmute them.
This is my account on them.
Because of their nature, they are expected to repete themselves as we work with them. They are, as expected, the work of a lifetime or many lifetimes. Embedded in them we find cultural, political and economical values.
We find stories being told that are hundred years old. Old old stories that do not belong to us, necessarily. Old stories that find their strength in their repetitive patterns.
Once we face our old stories we can initiate the process of transformation. Old stories will come and go as we walk our path. As we advance in our journey. Healing, unlocking them will be an ever nonlinear process. Kindness, a journal, a therapist or good friend or partner can be great allies as we move forward.
*I'm numbering the stories to keep them organized. The numbers don't represent the order in which they happened.
Old Story no. 1 - The birth of David
In the Old Story no. 1 I am a defeated mother.
I did not have the birth I envisioned not because the circumstances were bigger than me, but because I wasn't strong enough to go beyond them.
That's the story I told myself.
In the Old Story no. 1 I am weak. I am not strong. I failed every step. I couldn't or wouldn't. The negative was home.
I am to blame for all that didn't go as planned. For the turbulent first 40 days of breastfeeding.
The story I kept telling myself.
For his restlessness. For all that didn't flow.
For all that is to come. For all that stayed behind.
Old Stories are powerful. They can become relentless energy suckers. They can deprive us from the source of life.
In the Old Story no. 1 I failed to recognize the miracle of life. Because hiding beneath the weigh of so many un-trues felt comforting, and disturbingly . . . known to me.
The Old Story no. 1 continued through many years, reinventing itself, collecting new plots along the way, making me few crippled in my ability to mother, sedimenting my own true - the only true story there is.
The Old Story, because it's old and submissive, repetitive and dull, could never tell I won despite the odds. Despite the induction so mechanically strong, wrong.
It could not share I won every day and night I nursed despite the pain, the bloody nipples. Despite the discomfort and tremendous exhaustion.
The Old Story no.1 failed to tell I succeeded in my own terms, according to what I knew and the strength I possessed at the time. Old stories don't see pass their shadow.
They unfortunately often fail to recognize or tell the state of reality as is. Instead, they dig a hole and invite us into to the dark. Feeding a state of avoidance within.
Working with and healing from Old Story no. 1
It didn't take long for myself to feel a desire to understand and start thinking my way around the Old Story no. 1. Better, a way of freeing myself from its reductionist beliefs. Reclaiming my power as a mother.
It was a story that never felt fair. Almost out of touch with reality. I seeked help from therapists and did a lot of internal work. And as I moved along so did the old story. Often times the work felt superficial. Avoiding going deeper because it was painful, because I could not trust the unknown path.
You see, the old story can be very persistent. I suppose it could mutate. Giving birth to my third child gave me the opportunity to revisit the Old Story no. 1 with renewed hope and a open heart and womb. Quite literally. And so I continued exploring it. Talking about it and attempting to write.
But it was only when I forgave myself, had compassion and reclaimed my role as the creator of my reality that the Old Story no. 1 started to change. That I started seeing glimpses of the New Story no. 1. That I was finally able to face the old story without fear, pity, remorse or guilty.
This shift allowed for light, for deeper understanding. I for once felt uplifted, stronger and renewed.
Note that old stories operate in a continuous thread. It is my belief that what shifts & should shift is the way we interact with them.
May all the stories, old and new, bring us closer to our true essence.
So be it.