PRP Prep
It starts with a memory of the grass. Tall stands, finished with purple fluff that hung like a haze over it all, moving like fur in the wind. That purple fluff was somehow compelling. Strange as it was, it is the first thing I think of when I set off on my last walk of freedom before my PRP treatment.
This treatment has been with me for a while, hovering around me like the purple fluff of the grass seeds. Perhaps thats what drew me down there, kept me going down the little Maui lane until I found that grass, waving happily as I took a few strands and gave my thanks. The sun makes me squint. In the distance in front of me, I could see a dull blue ribbon of ocean bracketed by white and blue sky and green fields. I keep walking.
Hard to believe I would be spending the next few weeks barely doing any activity. Drawing my energy inwards. That for months I would be regrowing my cartilage, forming a new support for this spine that has been leaning more and more to the left as the years pass. But it is time. Time to invest in myself, to offer myself the loving action of listening. I pass a beautiful tree with shining leaves of yellow and red. Take one of each color. Give thanks.
The dirt track ends abruptly and I see a house up ahead. Dead end, I think with a slight edge of disappointment, until I see an opening to the left. A path, overgrown, leading towards the water. A cedar tree. A take a few needles, give thanks.
It becomes clear within a few minutes that this is not a worn path. In fact, I sacrifice my new walking shoes, bought yesterday for alignment purposes, almost immediately when I am caught in a bog. I keep going. Onwards. Through. Sweep my cedar needles in the mud. Give thanks.
Brambles. Everywhere. The kind that hug close, at thigh level. I wish I hadn’t worn shorts. But the brambles have beautiful berries, and they are intermixed with a little fern-like plant that snaps closed each time I touch it. Cute. Nature, responding. I take a few leaves, give thanks.
I scale a few rusted gates, the movement fluid and practiced from years of growing up in the country. There is a moment when I find myself surrounded by shoulder high grass and brambles, when i doubt my abilities to continue. I remember seeing a sign in the Maui airport saying there are no poisonous snakes in Hawaii, and the thought along with a full body breath reassures me. I continue. In my path I find treasures; red berries, beautiful flowers, a passionfruit. I pick them up, give thanks.
And then, it is over. The end of the fields. The end of the road. I am blocked by barbed wire, and I am not as close to the ocean as I had fantasized when I started this adventure. And, yet, my feet carry me. Left, along the barbed wire. And then I see it. The tree. Old. Small and yet knotted and sturdy. On a ridge overlooking the huge Hawaii waves. On the other side of the barbed wire. I place my bundle of wild treasures down underneath, do an arm balance on the post and somehow manage to get across without getting scratched. A flood of lightness rushes in. I pick up my bundle and find the tree, find a fairy spot to sit underneath, perched so close to the edge of the ridge that if i slipped I would fall.
And there, I pray.
I give my gratitude to this island and this earth and all the protecting beings, seen and unseen for welcoming me here and offering a space to heal. I give my gratitude to the waves for rolling over and over, cleaning, cleaning. I give gratitude to the fiery sun for showing me what true light is, and to the wind for blowing away the cobwebs of my life. I hold my beautiful bundle and blow my breath into it and ask all of the elements for help. I am healing, I say. I am growing. I am standing strong. Help my spine to grow straight, strong, painless, buoyant and open. Help me be the most radiantly free being I can be, so i am better able to do my work and help others to be their shiny selves, too. I blow my prayers deep into the bundle, sharing my spirit and my journey with this fragment of the rainbow I have collected. And I place it down, under the tree. An offering to the land. An offering to the spirits. An offering to myself.
The walk back is easier. I’ve received the message. This isn’t going to be easy. There’s going to be moments of doubt, and pain. I’m going to have to let go of the metaphorical shoes, and climb my hurdles. But, in the end, I’ll get there. I’ll find my tree of a spine. I’ll find my moment of peace. After all, I have the whole universe, responding.
JIYA JULIA
Jiya works in the field of self-empowerment, particularly through creative expression, helping people to identify their challenges and fulfill their full potential. A founder of international organization Kula Collective, Jiya offers her retreats around the world.
