Dams and Demons
Why I Have Suddenly Grown Fond of Beavers
I have enrolled in a series of seven workshops in the course of a year. Each workshop takes an entire day.
The core of it all is the balance between the masculine and feminine energies in ourselves, and between us and the rest of the world. How to define ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’? And, once we have: when do we stand tall, when do we feel safe? When do we show vulnerability? When do we work with our need for connection? When do we need to affirm ourselves? Through a series of encounters and exercises, with a stress on respect and mutual trust, the people in this small group go on an adventure that brings them closer to themselves. And since it is all done with such loving integrity, it also brings us closer to each other.
The one I attended just recently was all about Second Chakra work: creativity, flow, joy, feeling good enough, feeling connected to yourself and others. It was a very enriching experience.
All of us took home different lessons and insights.
One image that linguered in my mind especially was that of the dam.
Dams have no secrets for me. Their solid walls holding back masses of water, the result of endless years of collecting inpour from what is perhaps only a modest source, but keeping it contained, and releasing some pressure by an overflow now and then, or — in worst case scenarios — refusing to release and therefore eventually burst and explode…
Water is a metaphor for emotions. Or perhaps deep, unconscious urges. That’s all you need to know, and the rest of the story unfolds right in front of your eyes: influx — accumulation — fissure — release/explosion.
It is one of the things that makes our subconscious so frightening. God knows what monsters are lurking in the dark water behind the dam. So many of our efforts go into fortifying it.
Despite two decades of work on myself, I still have my dams and my demons, to be sure. Not as many as I used to, but still. Old fears only stop being frightening once you’ve solved them.
Creativity has never been my problem, but when it comes to spontaneous flow and honest, vulnerable connection with others, hey, enter the fortifications! So I knew I would have some stuff to look into in the course of the workshop.
When we hit upon the image of the dam, I had not expected to be surprised. But suddenly our coach presented me with a different image: a beaver dam.
That one can be taken apart again branch by branch, trunk by trunk, allowing the water to start flowing in a far gentler fashion than any steel valves (let alone rupturing concrete walls) ever can.
I immediately embraced this image. It’s easy to work with as a metaphor, and it makes whatever you’ve been holding back and hiding less frightening, since the risk of it exploding in your face when the pressure has become too high, disappears.
Now, every time I think of the challenging old demons hiding in the gloom of my inner lakes, I imagine the beaver pond, and those industrious little fellows gnawing away. Trunk by trunk their dam can be taken apart, and slowly, as the waters begin to flow, air and light start to move in places that used to be dark.
