Struggling with my Third Chakra: Murkiness of Power

A few weeks ago I went to paint my third chakra: power, will, ego.  I thought I was set.  I did quite a bit of work prior to going: reading and listening to Anodea Judith’s stuff on the third chakra, writing in my journal exploring myself in relation to my power.  As it turns out, this stirred stuff up and I ended up battling my painting until I came to a moment, a glimpse, a breathe of closure for the night -- a long late night.

My painting began as an expression of the third chakra -- what I wanted it to look like, what, if it was whole and open and flowing, it would look like.  It was gorgeous.  I loved it.  A large yellow circle began in the middle of the paper.  Then I began to pull down the upper chakras, green, blue, purple; and spiraled them into the yellow center.  I pulled up the lower two, red and orange and spiraled them into the yellow center.  I worked at adding different shades, blending them together, allowing them to mesh, mix, intertwine, and be distinct.  It was enjoyable and I was having a blast!

(I’m sorry that I didn’t take a picture of the painting before I ‘ruined it’.  However, I was playing on my iPad Sketching Ap and created the gist of it.  This image is not as cool as the painted one, but it will give you an idea of the flow, the spiral, the center of yellow bringing together all the chakras in order to ignite and manifest my power in the world.)

When I was done bringing together, blending, spiraling the energies into my 3rd chakra, I wanted to explode that center out across my painting.  I struggled with how to do that.  I landed, after attempting a few different things, on ripping up paper, covering it with yellow, and placing it over the painting shining out from the center like the rays of the sun.  I had a great time.  I love ripping and tearing paper; the sound it makes; the feel and release that come with the tearing movement.  I totally got into it.  I used all the different shades of yellow.  Dumped glitter on them.  Smiling.  Emanating the rays out.

Then all hell broke loose.  Really.  I stepped back (my first mistake) to take in the painting.  Tears rose.  The wound that I thought I had painted out appeared, there in the rays.  Some were solid rays stretching the entire length of the paper. Others were shorter with breaks between them as they reached for the edge of the paper.  When I looked I saw what my chakra looked like, what had happened to my power as I have moved through adulthood, how wounded it has become.  It brought me to my metaphorical knees.

That wound, the one that came forth in my goddess painting, right across my voice, heart and power chakras.  That wound that I had painted out with ash creating a wound on that canvas. That wound that caused me to experience myself split in two, working hard to integrate my dreams and visions back together into one authentic expression.

That wound arose again.  I thought it was gone.  I thought I had painted it out finally when I finished the ash painting.  It felt like it.  That day I was on my knees, tears flowing, clearing, cleaning my soul, cleaning the wound.  But it seems that was only another layer of it.  My teacher shared that she continues to paint out wounds she thought were gone years ago, surprising her again and again.  I found comfort and courage in that.  Comfort that this was normal, for the wound to bubble up again and again a little more each time.  My teacher reminded me that "It only gives you as much as you can deal with in the moment." Courage to face it, to engage it, to have a paint-filled conversation with it.  And that is what I did.  And that is what the next two hours of tough, struggle were all about as I worked and reacted and struggled through the muck of power and woundedness.

I had this deep need to try to bring the rays together back whole solid again.  I attempted a few different things and it was not working.  I so want my power to be whole.  I want my energy to be full of vitality.  I want my will to be strong.  I want to live full of compassion, using my power to transform the world around me. But I learned that will not happen until I wade into the muck of what it means to engage your power as a woman in this culture so steeped in power-over, in silencing women’s voices.  So I began. 

I invited the purple to flow, to teach me, show me, guide me in how to bring it all together.  I flowed it, spiraled it down around the the yellow to the bottom corner.  I pulled the red from the yellow and spiraled it around.  I pulled the green and blue and spiraled it down and around.  

I took a deep breathe and waded deeper in putting a large yellow circle in the top corner.  It came out green.  I added more yellow but it wanted to remain green.  So I let it. Ugh!  

I put a blue circle in the bottom corner.  That one took.  It  came out blue.

There they sat opposite, far apart.  Both wounded.  Both connected by this deep tearing in my soul.  My voice, my ability to express myself in this world wounded as my power and heart were wounded.  It hurt deep down inside to put these two circles up there, apart, alone.  It was right.  It was necessary.  For now that is what my third chakra looks like, that is what my power is like.  It is torn in many pieces, spread out, silenced, working hard to voice itself, to manifest my hopes, my wants, my future, this re-awakening I am in the midst of.  Both needed to show up on their own, standing as beacons of hope, resurrection and wholeness.

And that is when the flames began to pop up, flame up from the bottom of the painting.  As I gave way to the wounds and accepted them, welcomed them, allowed the hope for wholeness to come, I felt it ignite inside myself.  I felt the fire begin to burn once again with a burst of energy.  I painted those flames.  I got into pulling them up.  Allowing them to take over as much of the painting as they wanted.  Reaching right up to that yellowish green circle -- right up through my 3rd chakra to my heart.  I allowed that connection, that integration to begin. 

I breathed deep as the movement subsided.  I breathed deep in a moment of closure.  I breathed deep in a moment of acceptance.  I breathed deep in a moment of true deep tough agonizing healing.  I breathed deep thankful for the courage to engage...