We are made up of 3 vital sources – energy, emotions and stories. Yes, stories are a primary source.

Stories are the sinew and bone that create our shape that moves us through this world. Our stories are written all over us, internally and externally.

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You tell me your story
I will tell you mine,
Sitting eye to eye
Breath to breath.

What happened to my stories
They were laid deep in my body
Like tattoos
Through generations
That is my story.

Please tell me your story
I will tell you mine,
I will listen with respect
I will honor your path

So that I may gift the story to the next child’s hand that reaches out.

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Our bodies shape and create stories. And no matter where our stories come from, if we live in our bodies we can reshape and re-member from the beginning to the now.

So how do we excavate our history?  

Imagine yourself walking the steps up to the attic and opening the door to find what made your life. The attic represents the world of mind – where our thoughts go when we are deep in our history, sorting through the “whys” of how we were made. Digging into old boxes and books that made you who you are today, this is the time to slow down to be curious, compassionate, and open. Take a deep breath, allow your muscles to surrender to the earth, and begin.

Allow your body to come to the forefront. Feel your sit bones and feel your back – this is your history, 300 generations back, all that made you who you are today. Sit among your stories, feeling and listening for old remnants of how you came into the world.

The first tattered box you come to opens to the re-membering of how you held your head or covered your heart, your shape at 3 years old, 4 years old. For some of us, family was foreign. We did not have the touch or the caress that reminded us of safety, dignity and love.

An old, tattered book brings the re-membering of cookies baking, the big old pine you sat in to be above it all, or the alcohol-laden breath of an adult nearby. These are not a remembering to label good or bad; it is how you were shaped, and you were not accountable.

The next box brings the re-membering of the sounds and sights that surrounded you – perhaps sounds of a city, or the quiet country near waters or forest. Hear the birds that woke you in the morning; see the magical fireflies.

As you pull down a leather-bound rigid book, it brings the re-membering of touch. Your mother’s arms holding you in their softness, the hard rubber of your bike pedal as you pushed down to cover more ground, the roughness of your father’s hands calloused from work.

As you sit in the attic of your mind, re-member your stories and how they physically shaped you to be the person you are today. Acknowledge the gifts and limitations of your story. Feel your body and notice where you are contracting or opening. Begin to relax and take a beautiful cleansing deep breath – now, in this moment, you have an opportunity to clear away the dirt of excavation and clearly see how you were made.

In this analogy, what is stored in the attic produces the rest of the house – the body and the self are indistinguishable. The stories that are created through our history become the reality through which we will live the rest of our life – unless we re-member and rewrite our story. Your story, no one else’s story but yours. Only you can see through the eyes of your history.

How do you want to write the rest of your story? Through my own journey of re-membering and rewriting, I’m here to compassionately say, you have choice.

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