Distinctions

When things fall apart

I grew up in Mexico City, a valley surrounded by mountains and filled with possibilities. If you have ever been to Mexico City you might remember the colors, the smells, the green spaces that emerge in the middle of the busy streets creating unexpected oases in one of the most bustling urban areas in the world.

I also remember moments where the noise of the city would stop completely, and people would turn to each other to say: “How are you?” “Are you ok?” “Is there anything you need?” “How can I help?”

This happens every so often after Mexico City gets shaken by an earthquake, which is a common experience if you have lived there for a while.

I was there during the big earthquake of September 19th, 1985. My father was driving me to school that morning. We heard a sudden rumbling, and then all the cars stopped and everything went quiet. It was a silence that penetrated our whole being. All we could hear was the Earth moving, followed by the sound of buildings falling and cracks in the ground opening.

The quake and its silence lasted just a couple of minutes, during which Mexico City experienced some of the worst devastation in its long history. Entire neighborhoods were destroyed, thousands of lives were lost, and in response people paused their lives to connect with each other, to help, to save lives.

Thirty-seven years later the recovery process continues in the city, and many people still hold trauma from the experience in their bodies, minds, and hearts. Our collective nervous system lost a sense of trust in the ground where we stand and the homes that provide shelter. We learned to hold ourselves up in our own bodies and with each other, as nothing else around was to be trusted.

Re-establishing safety

That morning, after the earthquake, my father was in shock. Not realizing the magnitude of the damage, he still took me to school. When I arrived I saw kids and teachers crying in distress. At my young age, I was not sure what was happening. I tried to talk to my friend Belén, who was sobbing. Her home was lost in the catastrophe.

Soon after, teachers organized children to call home and arrange an early pickup if we wanted. I waited in line for a long time at  a payphone outside the principal’s office. My turn finally came. My mother answered and asked me: “How are you?” I was fine. I thought I was. But as soon as I heard her voice I started crying. I was not fine. I was terrified. I still remember her voice during that call and the warmth of her body from the long hug she gave me at the door of the school. That hug began re-establishing my sense of safety. I realized once again that my world could hold me up, and I didn’t have to hold myself alone.

A global shaking

The COVID pandemic has gone on much longer than the two minutes that the Mexico City earthquake lasted, longer even than the initial two weeks or two months that many of us thought it would last. Our sense of safety has been profoundly shaken. Over six million lives have been lost so far. Jobs have been lost, relationships have been strained, and we have had to learn to live our lives more distant from each other, without the familiar supports we counted on to care for our kids, our elders, our health, and each other.

I have been coaching for the past 17 years and I have never seen the level of exhaustion that people are carrying these days. It is showing up not only physically, but also emotionally and mentally. People keep placing one foot in front of the other, making moment-to-moment decisions about what to do next. Our humanity is experiencing a state of collective trauma that has personal and global consequences.

In all the uncertainty we have learned to hold ourselves up in body and heart, and it is wearing us out. We are getting tired. Similar to the Mexico City earthquake, the pandemic initially brought out our humanity and our care for each other. We were in this together. We still are, but the levels of stress in our society have increased. Our resilience has supported us in adapting and finding new ways to keep going. But as we keep going, it is hard to find space for our minds, bodies, and hearts to rest, to feel the fear, the shock, the interruption of life as we knew it, and to integrate the trauma in our collective soul.

Pausing to integrate and to heal

When my mother asked me “How are you?” something frozen in my fear inside started to melt. And as it melted and I felt the fear, I also began to feel my connection to others and to what was happening. This allowed me to integrate the experience and learn from it.

Our collective trauma calls for us to pause and to turn toward our collective heart, and ask ourselves and each other: “How are you? Really? Are you OK?” And to give lots of space for whatever answer arises in our bodies, in our minds, in our hearts. Even if the answer is a non-answer.

Our work at New Ventures West supports the healing and integration of traumas great and small by turning to our experience right here, in this moment, and opening our hearts in full presence to receive each other however we are.

In this moment, give yourself the gift of a pause, and ask yourself:

• How are you giving space these days to yourself and your experience?
• What supports you in creating space for reflection, digestion, and integration?
• How are you turning to others around you with a tender heart?

Love,

• How am I? Really?
• What nourishes me most these days?
• How can I create more space for what nourishes me in my life?
• What do I need to let go of that doesn’t serve me anymore?

Yin Yoga

Yin Yoga practice supports integration and restoration. You might look for an offering at a local yoga studio, community center, or online. Attend at least once per week and notice how your nervous system responds both in the class and over time.

Community Support

Find a time once per week to call a friend or loved and ask “How are you? Really?” Give plenty of space for their answer to arise. Then,  And take a moment to share how you are as well. Really.

Sanctuary

Carrie Newcomer

Letter from the Graduate Community Steward

Dear graduates,

I hope this finds you enjoying your summer – the first that many people have spent back out fully in the world, on trips, at events, and having long-awaited reunions with loved ones. I am feeling the preciousness of being with family as we get ready to send my son off to college in a couple of weeks. More than anything our souls are fed by our close-in connections.

On that topic, it’s been moving to hear about the kind of support you are receiving and offering in these times of great upheaval and uncertainty. In response to our recent questionnaire, one graduate said,

One of the beautiful gifts I received from my time at NVW was deep, caring, and generous friendships. My friends from the PCC have been constant champions in my life even after the program ended, and have been a joyful and supportive presence in my life. Whether checking in via Zoom calls or sharing their encouragement through social media, my fellow graduates have been a rich source of joy and community. 

If you haven’t yet, I hope you can take a moment to let us know what is keeping you centered and supported these days. Our work as Integral Coaches is so necessary in the world just now and, as we all know, keeping ourselves emotionally, physically and spiritually well takes much attention, practice, and most importantly, community.

In support of this we’ll soon be officially announcing a new Towards Mastery program—a series of in-depth courses that will form a path to Advanced Integral Coach® certification. The first course begins in October—stay tuned for updates, and join us at next week’s Graduate Community Gathering to learn more.

Wishing you much ease and richness in days ahead.

With love,