The Murky Deep
Heart Lake Mount Shasta
I grew up on the crystal blue shores of Lake Erie. We belonged to a private beach that was maintained by a neighborhood homeowners group. As a child, I swam as often as possible and gained the reputation for being a “fish”.
As I got older I had the opportunity to swim in a variety of different bodies of water, and I said yes to them all. Swimming was up there with Riding Horses. I never missed an opportunity. Rivers, creeks, ponds, pools, and springs. I liked all but murky water.
There is something about murky water that terrifies me. It’s beyond my swimming skill to be in water when I can’t see below the surface. My legs turn to jelly. I can hear my heart beat in my ears. My mind races to everything lurking beneath.
This is a recurring motif that shows up in my dreams. Where I’m being led to a deep, stagnant, elusive body of water, tucked into a piece of virgin forest, and invited to take a dip with an exciting lover or friend. Or, I have to cross the deep unknown to get to where the dream is leading. I stand before it, feeling as though I’m at a crossroads.
In my waking life, after the dream, I often meditate on how the words, murky, and lurking are so similar. And how I’ve associated them with this particular pool of possibilities. Wondering why do I go “there” To the unknown in my dream being a bad, shadowy place? Because it’s unseen, and unknown, it’s somehow sinister.
It wasn’t lost on me what the obvious symbolism was. This water is the UNKNOWABLE. It is the MYSTERY. And here I find how even my unconscious has been conditioned to fear the primordial groundlessness of the Feminine.
The irony is, in my waking life, I welcome almost any opportunity to interface with what is undiscovered. Like an existential detective I get a thrill from what is found in the corners and under the covers. Ruled by Pluto, I’d say that plumbing the depths is kind of my jam.
In Shasta, we had an opportunity to swim high in the mountains. Heart Lake. I watched as the women I was with stripped their bodies naked and gleefully ran towards the water. Bare breasted Goddesses. Yet I stood at the edge. Unsure. I tepidly stripped down to my bathing suite. Reminded myself that nobody wants to see the body of a women who has breastfed four children and is striped with stretch marks, and timidly approached the edge.
My friends yelled out to me, “you have to jump”. So in my usual fashion I gave a “fuck it” and leaped in.
All of the breath left my body. The water was, deep, opaque, mossy green, and FREEZING. The sensation of the cold squeezed all of these loud gasping sounds from lost cavities hidden within me. I clocked it as a release of outdated conditioning immediately. Funny that. Oxygen was flowing back in to places that hadn’t been aired out in decades. This was a new way for the element of air to show up for me. In inflate and create more space for me to inhabit.
And then, I dipped below the surface and opened my eyes. The “murky” water was teaming with life. And where the sunlight touched it, it appeared like underworld galaxy had opened before me. Planets, and glowing alien flecks of stardust. I could see the webs of connection. And I was bathing in it! I challenged myself to stay in as long as possible. To imagine that instead of monsters, I was held in the primordial womb of The Mother. The portal between this life and the one that came before. What a glorious baptism. Then it hit me…
The story of my birth, subsequent abandonment, and the great secret that shrouded my childhood , is rich in patriarchal nutrients. The “murky water dream” always feels associated with that. What is arising for me now is how uncomfortable I feel with the awe striking ecstasy that comes with being welcomed so fully by HER.
Last night the waters were presented again. This time I understood the invitation. The waters aren’t the deep unknown. They are an invitation to explore the mystery of HOME.
*If you haven’t read previous posts, I was placed in a closed adoption at birth because my mother was young, and unmarried. A scarlet letter women.
As a doula I had the opportunity to study perinatal psychology and learned about inter uterine influences on the soul. We are all left with imprints in the womb, the ultimate representation of primordial groundlessness. It’s a topic worth exploring if you have any themes that come up that you “can’t put your finger on”. Our mother’s state of mind/being during gestation is as relevant to us as good soil is to a hearty crop.
