Sitting on the floor on a Sunday morning

The alarm went off at 7am and I reached for it, bleary and still asleep but also realizing that if I were home with Luca, I'd be up already.

This is the last day of the first proper craniosacral training. I feel compelled to write but I'm not sure what to say. I have moved between being so very happy and clear and then being scared. I already know that this is different from anything I've ever done. Sometimes when I'm in the room, seeing someone winding their body off the massage table, feeling the strange mystical clarity of a cranial wave, hearing a voice inside me telling me things about the person I'm touching and then acting from that voice and finding it is right, during these times I can hear a whole realm of my friends popping their fingers up in the evil eye symbol and hissing, "oohh, witchy-whoo-whoo." I can hear it because sometimes I get overly conscious and nervous and want to put my fingers in the protective horn as well.

But mostly as a defense against my own changes. It isn't that I don't believe. I actually believe very deeply. This feels like some of the truest deepest learning I have done for quite some time. My defense is over how much I have to change to do this well. And the changes are changes I hunger for - stillness, deep listening, privileging time for meditation and connection - but they frighten me. It's like a whole lifetime of defenses and identities and preferences and shortcuts is sitting there and many of them have to unwind and drift away.

And a lot of the time I don't even know what I'm afraid of. But I am. Afraid.

And also very certain that this is the direction where I want to move.