Held by the Collective
I had a poignant experience on Wednesday. First, some context. I’m a Network Spinal Analysis practice member. It’s a technique that relieves tension from the spinal cord with the gentlest of touches. According to Network Spinal Analysis Founder Dr. Donny Epstein, there are 12 stages of healing. These aren’t linear or hierarchical, they’re more like seasons.
Stage one is suffering. It’s an awareness that something is wrong and it’s time to connect with the reality of what is. It’s being with the body to bring ease and compassion to the self. Stage 12 is about community. It’s recognizing that our wholeness comes from bringing our gifts of individuality into the collective. It’s also about receiving gifts from others so there’s a loop of giving and receiving.
On Wednesday, I had a call with other Network Spinal Analysis practice members, and we did breathing exercises relevant to our respective stages. While I did the stage one exercise, the rest did stage 12. Oof. That’s so hard because I take service seriously. It’s one of the core tenets of my spiritual tradition and I always feel pressure to do more and/or that I’m not doing enough.
Sometimes you need to be held by the collective. Photo by Becca Tapert on Unsplash
And in these times where I know we are the “magic wands,” that change happens because we make it happen, my desire to contribute is immense. It feels like if I’m not doing something, I’m letting the fascists win. But, well, my body needs a break. It’s made that very clear. The breathing call showed me viscerally that I don’t always have to be “on” or giving my gifts. I don’t have to always contribute to society because other people are giving their gifts. Other people are fighting the good fight and when I’m ready, I’ll re-enter the metaphorical arena and give someone else a break.
This is how the collective works. We hold one another as we cycle through our various rhythms.
My spiritual teacher says, “The movement of human beings in this universe is not movement for movementʼs sake, but is comparable to a joyous pilgrimage …. Suppose one among them is attacked by cholera, do the rest go on their way, leaving him behind? No, they cannot. Rather, they break their journey at the place for a day or two, relieve him from the disease, and help him to acquire strength in his legs. Or, they start out anew, carrying him on their shoulders. If anyone runs short of her subsistence, others give her their own. Together, they share everything with all. Together, they stream ahead, singing their leading chorus.”
Later, he says it’s when people “attain a deep psychic affinity while traveling together [this is what] helps them solve all the problems in their individual and social lives.” It’s humbling to admit that sometimes I’m the person who has cholera, metaphorically, but nonetheless, it’s true. And instead of beating myself up about it, I can relax and remember I’m a pilgrim on a pilgrimage and there’s a collective that’s holding me and holding all of us.
I dream of a world where we realize we all cycle through periods of rest and contribution. A world where we give when we can and let ourselves receive when we need. A world where we trust that we don’t have to do everything all the time because there’s a greater collective that’s holding us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
