Toxic tour. chemical valley. sarnia. (March 2013)

i went to sarnia march 15, 2013.

it was a 'toxic tour'... we walked though the 'chemical valley'... walked all day, 10kms....all 'industry'....

plants... chemicals... metallic pipeline structures and mazes...

the day itself was like a conscious ceremonial sacred connection walk...

walking with the native people of the land and area... and others, like myself, in solidarity and support...

sharing in the sights, the sensations, the feelings... together...

guided and nurtured by the sounds and drumbeats of male drummers and singers... in the back of a pick up truck.

they drove ahead and behind us all, all day.

we all weaved in and in front of, and beside all day... breaking off into pairs... talking, in silence... walking... laughing...

shivering... eating, drinking... smiling, reflecting...

some of us were complete strangers... but as the day evolved... and we walked through it all... it felt familial, comfortable... held... as we shared in this time of reflection, in action...

together.


we were walking though hell-ish-ness... that so many humyns are exisiting in... working in these plants.

and all the people living in this area...

downstream, side-streamed... across the street.... from these enormous chemical factories...

10 kilometers worth... of side-by-side chemical plants.

we shut down this main street that ties all of these plants together, on a friday... for hours.

many of the 63 plants even shut down for the day, told their thousands of employees not to come in... in knowing we were coming... knowing the roads would be blocked...

that feels empowering... that we were able to do this... even if only for a day... we still have the power.

the road was ours... to come through, and honour... be real... see it for what it is...


there was a water ceremony for women at the water... i was standing beside the elder as she prayed... special.

watching the chunks of ice-y snow glide by... flowing downstream... plants across the water.

starting at the water as she sang... in a language that i do not undersatnd... but that came before me...

that came before these plants, came before the people came that 'settled' the land...

we all held the tobacco in our left hands, close to our hearts, that she handed out as we stood in circle... before the prayer began...

as she prayed... deep from her being... i watched the snow flow by... different shapes, patterns, heights, textures...

the water... the color of the water... sort of blue-y green-y... i wonder if it originally looked like this... i have a feeling not.

i listened... i watched... i was...

when the time was right, when her prayer was done... she bent down... and tossed the tobacco in the water... with a little shake to get it all out...

i was at the end, the furthest downstream... i released mine... and then i stared, down at the water... watched the pieces n bits of tobacco... float on by...

carrying with them the feelings... wishes, prayers... of those who held them... close to their hearts...

we were there that day in a unified intention...

not one particular agenda...

but unified...


it is my responsibility at this point in my life to talk about this.

i look at the photos... i remember the true visuals i saw... those metallic pipeline mazes...

things that are absolutely toxic to us... in every one...

flowing through...

toxic-ifying all of nature around them...

the people.

the water.

the animals and creatures.

how evolved are we when we pride ourselves on designing structures and contraptions that KILL us.

broken hearted...

i am broken hearted...

and i chose it.

i chose to get into relationship, and i chose to end it.

but i feel myself creeping back into the feelings from before...

even though i know i am not supposed to.

because i said i wanted to break up.

but my heart still hurts... and i am surprised it feels this way.

i thought it would be simpler, especially since 'i chose'

but choices are confusing when they are through love...

confusing...

unclear...

strong yearning emotional nooks inside me.

he doesn't understand... that if he only expressed love more openly, more lovingly...

if he only wanted to have a family... share life into the future...

i feel depleted...

a bit lost...

im not quite sure how to do it again...

is this it?

being my wounded self.

We walk around... all the time with wounds... or at least the memories and influences of times where we were once wounded... bruised, hurt...

``I would like to think they have been overcome somehow... worked through, processed healthily... HEALED... made whole.

Whole... wounded... then healed... Whole.

Wounded-ness, and BEING with it, living our lives carrying our stories of our lives... feels like it can ONLY be just this.

Wounded-ness sounds painful... i guess it is... a wound in some way carries it with the sensation of pain, hurted-ness... but if i have it anyways... if i have lived my life, in the exact way i have... and wounds have occured in and amongst the beautiful sacred moments, relationships, interactions, lessons of life... i may as well BE me... and ME, includes wounded-ness.

Healed Woundedness.

Scar tissue on the body feels different... it is more sensitive... different in colour. in texture. in sensitivities to perhaps temperature, or textures against it.  It does look different from my original birthed physical and somewhat uniform layer of skin that cloaks by soul-ed being...

But that scar tissue is healed... it once was an open wound, bloody, throbbing, painful... i nurtured it back to closure... gave it many nurturing natural remedies... took conscious care of that wound... so that it would close... but i could never forget now that it happened... it is there, as a scar now...on my body... reminding me of the wound that was once there.

It is the same idea... with wounds that occur in my soul body, my emotional body... my spiritual body... my non-physical elemental body that makes up me... that i think of when i think of ME.

I am not my body.... not ONLY my body.

i have these thoughts... feelings...blissful moments of life....

more then my body... more then my physical body.... with my physical wounds...

i am but a human... with a soul... that is not explained with logic... it cannot explain the spark that became the LIFE of ME...

that switching on of life... when IT began... ME...

i have lived... we all live... until we die.

and in our lives... things happen... life happens....

SO many stories happen.

beautiful, sad, happy, touching, sacred, breathtaking, simple, light... fun....

hard, complex, difficult....'heart-breaking'... challenging, puzzling.... breathtaking- i can't breathe it hurts so much-breathtaking....

these stories, these experiences of life leave their mark on us, within us... sometimes wounds.

A teacher of mine reminded me of the benefits of the 'therapeutic use of self'... which to me simply means, being a human with another human... both of us FULL of life's stories that have shaped each of us... our wounds can be present... and as we intersect, and i come in service, as a ThanaDoula (one who serves the living, whom are also the dying)... ME, being me... wounds and all... I use my WHOLE self to offer some kinda of therapeutic support... to my fellow being.

Another actively dying woman i am ThanaDoula-ing made a comment about woundedness... as if it were a bad thing that 'all these people working in a hospice (to be support to those were dying) were wounded themselves'... i understand how it is hard to be with people who are FRESHLY and openly wounded... but i reflected and thought... well aren't we all at some stage ALWAYS healing a wound? don't we all have this element of wounded-ness within us?

Isn't the birthing process based upon a wound... the baby leaving the mother's womb... cutting the umbilical cord... That leaves a wound, the first wound to us... and we heal it... we grew with that cord... and then we heal from it's wounded separation... and grow from that wound... it is the only way for us to grow into individual living beings.

We must be real and human number one... we must walk and live with the TRUTH that we are beings with wounded-ness... Even within our professional scopes, our 'normal'-ness...

We are these real 'wounded' and LIVED people, we come from them, we are them... we cannot separate our selves from our selves, our lives.

We bring those in to the moments with other people. This is valuable lesson material ..

if we choose to let ourselves heal...

but we cannot ignore wounds when they happen... we cannot pretend like they are not there... they are likely to get infected...

we need to clean then... maintain that healthy clean healing process... so we can let it seal itself again.

i am a living human being...

just being my wounded self.

that means YOU can be too.

aren't we all human beings?