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I had chosen what seemed to me the perfect little evergreen trees. Or maybe they were bushes. Those could be little could-be-Christmas trees because well for one, they are evergreen, and two because they are shaped like a regular size spruce. But these little guys were even smaller than those.
I had wandered around in the local German plant and garden shop, looking for the perfect plants that wouldn’t need much care, and would be able to withstand the current chilly December temps. These plants were very important to me, so it was the kind of searching and seeking I intentionally carved out time for, and to go sans children and husband. I didn’t want them distracting me from my focus, or interfering with my choice. These two special plants were to be for an honoring and releasing ceremony for my beloved grandma Rose and my still living dear mom.
Although related only by marriage (the grandma I speak of is my dad’s mom, not my maternal grandmother), these two women seemed to come together to represent all that is good in me. They both worked tirelessly for their passions and their families. And I watched and absorbed it throughout my childhood and into my young adulthood and beyond.
So as you can understand those two little plants I chose—they really meant a lot to me. Each one representing these two wonderfully influential women in my life. So what was I doing with them, you ask? Obviously I was going to plant them, but why then and why there in those woods?
I was in my 45th year of life, and as it can be with many women, I had been through enough life experiences to have some insights, and possibly some wisdom at this point to really make an intentional effort to ask myself: “what’s holding me back?” I started to allow in questions like: “how come it makes me feel uncomfortable to charge for my coaching services?”; “how come I feel guilty when I buy myself something special?”; “why do I feel so bad if I think I’ve upset someone?” And, “why is it so difficult to ask for my needs to be met?”
And so I started the journey on reflecting on how I took on these thoughts and sometimes overly-unhelpful-to-my-progress obsessive behaviors, related to calming my discomfort around these underlying issues/questions.
I realized that as much as I credit my mom and my grandma Rose with all things that I admire about myself, there were also some thinking patterns I needed to let go of. I wasn’t sure at this point what that meant exactly, but I had a deep knowing that I would have to do something “big”—at least relatively speaking for me.
It was in some ways a very confusing time for me, because these “limiting beliefs” as some people call them, I know were not intentionally taught to me. And thinking of letting them go felt like I was somehow also then letting a connection to them go as well- which inherently felt painful and wrong. But, I had an even stronger sense that both my mom and my grandma Rose would want the utmost best for me, and if these beliefs were somehow holding me back- then by golly I could feel their encouragement to let them go!
Some people have a burning ceremony to release these unhelpful thoughts and beliefs, but somehow that didn’t seem appropriate for this. And also of course there was SO much more beyond these limiting beliefs unknowingly handed down to me, that was good! I definitely didn’t want any sort of burning in their memory or honor going on!
And so yep, for these two women, both also ardent gardeners and environmentalists, I decided to do a planting ceremony instead! So in the literal and metaphorical sense I was going to bury the limiting beliefs in the dirt and also allow for new growth of the plant, and by way of ceremony, for myself as well.
I decided to hire a local coach to help guide me through this ceremony. It helped me to just be completely in the moment, rather than thinking out the plan of the steps that the ceremony would have. I had never done anything like this before so I also craved some leadership in the experience.
We met at a small parking lot just a few yards from my house which was also the entrance to the path we were going to take. Mostly in silence, we meditatively walked to a spot I had already sought out. And when the coach explained to me how the ceremony would go, I felt as if something really important was happening. I was in a state of mind where I am intentionally and attentively balancing being in the moment as well as being open to what would unfold.
This path that we were taking, I had taken dozens and dozens of times before. And as I would go along that path- walking, jogging, or strolling with friends as we chat, I often would intentionally take in all that my senses could absorb. The path goes through the back of the village we lived in and is often lined with those spring flowering bushes that alert you to the sure sign of the arrival of the new season.
It’s a path that as I passed these floral and often scented bushes, that I found fields of farmland where farmers plant their rotating crops of what became bright-bright yellow rape-seed flowers and sun kissed brown wheat sheaths. And when these crops were in full bloom, it also gave tell tale signs of another season. The views especially on a sky-blue, sky colored day feel imbedded in my self- as if it were tattooed on my skin. And the air on that path, sometimes hot and sticky like any summer day, or wintery fresh after a snowfall, was either way so cleansing and cozy at the same time. It’s a path that felt like Home- it felt familiar and inspiring at the same time.
Home is a weirdly ironic and cathartic way to describe this area, as many, many times I had also walked through this area imagining Jewish families hiding in the woods. All the WWII movies I had seen through the years would almost come alive for me. And as I walked it was like I was in a virtual reality show.
I would become very pensive imagining my own distant relatives navigating the cruel hardships of WWII, in Poland, just a few hundred miles north east of where I was walking. I’d feel like I was walking on sacred ground- feeling privileged to be enjoying these woods and environment instead of the constant fear and hunger they must have felt. This family I speak of would have been my grandma Rose’s relatives—the Liechtenstein’s.
At the same time, I would imagine my grandma Louise, my mother’s mom. Already a veteran nurse who had assisted in one of the first open-heart surgeries, she was stationed in a WWII war ship off the coast of Italy, just a few hundred miles south east of where I was standing. It was also where my mom was conceived. And just a generation before, my grandmother Louise’s family, the Rider’s had immigrated from the German-Alsace region of what is now France- also about a hundred miles west of where I was at that moment.
And here I was, the only granddaughter of the offspring from two distinct, distant relatives whose children happen to converge in Brooklyn, New York where I was born. And so this very spot I returned to, and was standing on felt like an ancestral center, while I was also going through this deep re-centering of myself. To say it felt profound and honoring is a huge understatement. When I thought about this tree planting ceremony, it then seemed amazingly fitting to have chosen this land, this forest to plant these little trees.
Most cathartically I realized that the origin of the limiting beliefs that I wished to “bury”, probably originated in the land and lands of where I was standing. I presumed and assumed for example, that the need to be “selfless” probably had come from generational learning of women always putting themselves last, either from a sense of duty or because society dictated as such. So it was like I was bringing these limiting beliefs and challenges and all—back to where they came from.
As we continued to the destination and I was listening to my coach quietly speak, as if in reverence to the occasion, I was also thinking of my mom and my grandma Rose. And then I realized that it was the exact week, if not day, that grandma Louise had passed over 30 years prior. And so I brought her into my consciousness too. I felt a sort of summoning of their voices in encouragement, their presence, their images, and their love. Almost like a rite-of-passage of which I had no experience with, but knew it was the right time.
Visions of them enveloped me as I gazed and squeezed the objects I was wearing in their honor. I was wearing a silver bracelet that has that southwestern-style like you’d find in New Mexico or Arizona, but that my grandmother Rose and I had found together in a little jewelry shop in the West Village, right after I graduated highschool. I wear it ever day. And I was glad that the weather on that almost winter solstice day was pleasantly warm enough to not be too cold, but also chilly enough that wearing the purple-turned-to-green color patterned scarf that my mom had knit me the year before was also comfortable enough to wear.
Once we got to the spot I pulled out what I had written to commemorate this “honoring and releasing ceremony.” I had also wanted to show my coach a recent picture of my mom who had just two months prior come for what turned out to be a wonderful mother-daughter visit. And so I went to my “pics” app, and for some reason a picture I had taken 3 years ago while visiting my parents’ house showed up. It was a picture I had taken of a framed photo of my grandmother Louise holding my mom as an infant. I swiped right, and the next picture was of my grandmother Rose; then the next one a picture of my mom and I on a trip from years ago.
I literally started shaking, I could not believe these pictures were showing up in this exact moment! There was no logical reason for these images to have appeared! Everyone knows when you open your pics app, it goes to the most recent photos taken! But these were from 3 years ago!
Through my emotion I almost dropped the phone in amazement and surprise. I explained this to my coach. And she said: “they are here with you. You are supported. That’s really beautiful.” We continued through the ceremony, feeling a rainbow of emotions as my body released what was needed and received all the love that was to be had.
When I got home, I was feeling exhilarated and exhausted. It was as if I had run a marathon. But instead of my body feeling the effects of having miles and miles of tarmac or a dirt road underfoot, it was my heart that felt the affects of such a powerful Soul expansive experience.
I plopped down on the chair nearest the door and I looked at my phone again. I guess since I hadn’t opened another app or called or texted anyone yet, the screen showing the picture from when I had last looked on my phone was still there. I swiped to the next picture and it was a picture of my daughter. Not my son and daughter, or my kids with my husband—just my daughter. I quickly texted my coach about it, and she said: “wow that’s amazing. The energy has cleared.”