Throwing Our Bones
Lately, in my life there's been a theme of understanding the BONES, personally and collectively, the Bones are calling me.
In the last week, I have had to surrender deeply to my bones, my achy tired painful bones, in particular my sacroiliac (lower back) all the way around to my right hip bone, have been tired and in pain. I know from working with the body that it's the root chakra calling me to pay attention to this all important structure, as the bones are our scaffolding, the very system that holds our precious bodies together and upright. Without our bones we'd just be a bag of organs, flesh, a fluid, watery mess! The bones are obviously important, despite how little attention we give to them, unless of course we break them or develop calcium deficiencies or some other sickness of the bones.
Over the last year I've especially become familiar with how necessary it is to feel our bones as our structure that houses our bodies in the skin we live in - our largest organs- and how without these bones we'd be pretty useless and unproductive in this world!
Yesterday I got to know the message of the bones a little deeper when a friend did a Throwing the Bones reading, much like a family constellation, she throws the bones after blessing them over fire and incense and the way they land on the ground, tells us a story. Each bone or piece in her bones bag lands in a way that tells a story in relationship to the other pieces in the bag, which is a story that the ancestors want us to know. Indeed you dont have to think too deep to extend your understanding of your own bones to those who've come before you to know that bones connect us to our very roots, family and our ancestors, known or unknown to us.
It was my first time having such a reading and what was pretty profound were the stories that each bone was revealing about my own story, my parents and those before them. Funny enough, the wrists came up, which is a bone that I deeply love and pay a lot of attention to when I'm massaging bodies as the hands would not operate without healthy flexible wrists. The hands are an extension of the heart and indeed anything we do or give or create in this life is mostly done by our hands; so the wrists, the link between our hands and arms are an all important piece in the pie of our bodies. I know from a young age seeing my mother try to function with a broken wrist, was deeply painful to witness. Without healthy functioning of our wrists, there literally is no writing, cooking, sewing, drawing, painting, cleaning, dressing, reading and holding. Most importantly, as a child was the lack of ability to be held by mama when her wrist was broken, I observed this and felt this unintentional withdrawal, the lack of love, or holding through this period of her broken wrist. So from a young age, I've had a hyper awareness of the importance of the wrist and indeed our bones.
When I lost my mother and had to bury her body at age 10, I would frequently visit the cemetery and her grave to maintain my connection with her, I knew that she was no longer there, that she was just flesh and bones beneath the earth, but I still went to keep this connection with my roots through her bones. My dad would often joke that cemeteries were the safest place in the world as everyone is dead and can no longer hurt you, but what exactly does the hurting? It's the message from inside our bony skulls to our other bones to hurt another’s bones. Or help them heal, which is all done by our bodies and bones.
In ALL ancient wisdom traditions, especially the Aboriginals of Australia, with the horrible colonisation by the Brits, I would often hear stories about the stolen generation and aboriginals fighting for their rights to access their loved ones graves and locations, which I didn't fully understand as a young one, but now I know the depth of. It was all about the bones. Not having access to the remains of our loved ones, to hold their bones in our memories severs our connections to them. Indeed, one of the horrors of Gaza and Israel's ongoing psychological torture on top of the ongoing genocide, is in not allowing Palestinians access to the bodies and remains of their loved ones so they can properly bury them.
For if the body - this house of our beautiful souls - are not allowed to be given a proper departure and blessing to the other side, do we ever have closure? The right to bury the bodies and bones of our loved ones, is indeed one of our human rights, in death as in life.
Bones are our roots, bones in Hawaiian culture, known as Iwi are where the mana - life force once lived, and its not uncommon for Hawaiians, as I'm sure many other intelligent Indigenous cultures to hold onto a little piece of a bone of a loved one, to forever hold them near. Which is actually an incredible thought, really...
What will become of all your bones when you die?
Where will you lay your bones to rest for eternity?
Isn’t Resting your bones in peace, a humbling thought?
As we all will die right?
After the maggots and worms eat all your remaining flesh, all that's left will be your bones, which for some people is not a thought they want to entertain, But I like death and think about it a lot, so I am now certain that I want my body and bones to be buried close to loved ones, and maybe even a piece of one of my bones could be kept on a friends altar.. though I think a discussion or two beore I go, would be useful!
My bones have spoken and I've listened, this last week I've really surrendered to the tiredness, the deep fatigue that this dying colonial, capitalistic, patriarchal bullshit system of abuse inflicts upon our bodies and bones. Listening to my bones is Important and not to be taken lightly - so if you've never given much thought to your tired hearts, minds and bodies, get quiet, go deeper and really listen to your bones, as it's not just your story that lives in them, it's your ancestors living through you...
God bless your bones, have a good day!