I just did what I always do, wondered in, wandered through, went where I felt called and found myself volunteering to be the subject at DeAnna Batdorffs class on uterine alignment. My masters degree is as a CNM/WHNP, so naturally, I am deeply intrigued by the work DeAnna was doing. In my profession, I learned that roughly 2/3 of women had misaligned uteruses, and I knew from my pregnancies that I was one of them. 

DeAnna was such a wonderful teacher, kind, gentle, honoring her art, she had all the skills a master needs. When I laid down on her table, I wasn’t expecting anything, but she delivered everything. She showed me and told the class exactly where my uterus was, gave me some deep insight into the science and nature of the misalignment, then gently worked my uterus back into the place nature designed it to be. It was a serious undertaking, because I was really out of sorts, but it was a 100% success. I was bruised and tender for several days following the adjustment, but the impacts it had on my life were more positively profound than anything I’ve ever experienced. 

For the first time in my life, of 39 years, I no longer had painful intercourse. Do you understand the impacts of that statement? 21 years of painful sex, over! After 10 minutes in her care. It doesn’t stop there. I stopped having painful cramping, my cycles were a solid 36 hours shorter every month with significantly less spotting, and I was losing about half as much blood as previous. I will forever bless this woman for the skill, art and love she poured onto me that day. Thank you from the bottom of my heart DeAnna. 

On Wednesday, August 31, one day ahead of schedule, I arrived in Laytonville.  Resting on the curb outside of Geiger’s, I was met by encouragers, questioners, and supporters of all types and offered campsites for the following two nights. 

The morning of session 1, Day 1, was glorious. At 8am it wasn’t too hot, but was clearly gearing up to be. I was accompanied by Kelly and Mira for the first mile (plus)—a new friend with her baby daughter in a backpack. 

I got my moment of celebrity during session 1, which also trailed over into session 2—occasionally bordering on silly. 

For example: my sister Kerin and I signed up to use her car for the marketplace shuttle on Sunday, as cancellations had left Symposium short a truck. On the first run in I was driving in a full load, including a class teacher in the passenger seat. Passing the kitchen, I was appropriately challenged by RTF for driving a personal vehicle on site. 

My passenger leaned out the window and called back, “It’s okay. It’s Dakota!”

Ha, ha – Wrong answer! 

Both sessions of Symposium, after our long hiatus, were predictably and wonderfully profound. Kerin and I taught a transformational writing class that will continue and grow into a series of anthologies titled, Women Gone Wild, Women Gone Wise: Stories of Transformation.  If you are interested in being part of the process and/or publication, please contact Dakota: dakota@upunityproject.org. 

I also lead a Vipassana/Insight meditation group in the mornings of both sessions and am available to guide anyone interested in this practice. And, of course, session 2 had the Miso Magik class (which will be repeated at Terri’s place later this year for more relaxed and accessible sharing)!

My sister and I attended a Death workshop lead by Michelle Vesser, which was powerfully healing for me in regard to Cedar’s recent suicide. It also offered me tools to receive my friend’s grief and support her as she came to CA for her son’s funeral in between sessions. 

I was able to celebrate my new status as a crone for the first time. I felt qualified this time, after the walk. I connected with women and girls of all ages in a way (due to mommy fatigue and lower confidence) that I never did before.

Congratulations to our sons who graduated the circle of women this go-round. May you bring  healing to the world of men that spills over to lift us all!

I continue to reflect on the effects this walk has had on me, as well as the response it has elicited in the world. 

The two biggest effects are these:

Trust. This is a big word for me—probably the single most healing quality I strive/practice for. I find no value in trusting that this or that will happen, that people will behave in a particular way, or even trusting God to give me my ego’s desire. Real Trust is open-ended. It is a present tense quality of receiving gratefully whatever life brings—of understanding all that is generously and specifically gifted with my own growth/healing/enlightenment in mind. I can be bound by fear, anger, doubt, shame, pain, or, with Trust, I can use these states to enact deep transformation of the mind, leaving me happy and healthy. 

Offering. One women en route on Hwy 1 turned her car around and parked waiting for me. “I saw your sign and knew you must be doing something amazing”, she said when I reached her. 

Many people told me I had inspired them. Inspired them how? I wondered. I’m going to assume I didn’t inspire them to rob a bank or shoot up a school. 

Someone asked me during my walk, “So what is it exactly that you are giving the world through this walking? How is that of service?”

Right. Inquiring minds want to know! 

There are lots of people wandering the highways of this country. Most are not taking very good care of themselves (by my standards). Many are looking down, or ranting off into space, with shaky connection to our common experience. They seem to feel powerless in the face of traumatic events, addiction, and an inability to protect their bodies from the elements or their own abuses. 

When I see someone in such a state, my habitual reaction might be fear. I don’t know what’s going on with them, but they seem to need something of me. I don’t know what that something is, but if I haven’t learned to love myself yet, I probably don’t have it to give.

In contrast, when I am walking along the road, clearly happy, smiling, waving, making eye contact, I am not asking for anything. I am offering. I am offering unconditional love. And considering the number of faces that light up and respond in kind, I know that my intentions are recognized as such. 

In such a materialistic world, unconditional love might seem a cheap gift. However, it is currently in cripplingly short supply, and it has a power to heal beyond measure. If all I am doing is offering unconditional love to random strangers, this is an effort well spent. 

I intend to keep walking and writing (the writing is another way to do the same thing). My recent hero Peace Pilgrim is similarly, considerably posthumously, inspiring me as well. 

I will walk to Symposium again, and any of you who wanted to join me this time will have another opportunity. I will also be starting an independent blog of this walking adventure—to Death Valley, Big Sur and beyond. I am happy to connect and converse with you all and am so very grateful for all the generous love and support I have received! 

Vive la evolución! 

Dakota

These miles are dedicated to all of our challenged, confused youth who don’t know where to turn, and have not found the guidance or support they need. 

Any perseverance and endurance I can muster, and the resounding love that is our very fabric, are dedicated to Kata, and all the mothers of the world who have known such incomprehensible loss. 

May we all find  our way home—our realignment with Spirit.

Today I passed through Fort Bragg and the area north of it—where Cedar lived for the last 8 years. I passed the cemetery where he will be buried next Tuesday. And I passed 10-mile beach where he overdosed on opioids in a suicide pact with a friend (the friend survived). 

I am camping about 5 miles north of there,  under a grove of giant cypress. I welcome the opportunity to be immersed in this place that Cedar loved—to simply receive in balanced compassion whatever this place offers.

Kata told me during a phone call this morning that she had set up a Go-Fund-Me account to help pay for the astronomical expenses of burying her son ($13,000 and counting). I am offering the link to it here as I imagine that many of you following this story will be inclined to help: https://gofund.me/b8c7fc4a

If you want to send Kata words of compassion, the understanding of personal experience, or finances untaxed by Go-Fund-Me, you can send them direct to this address:

Kata Jeremias
16631 Pine Drive
Fort Bragg, CA 95437

This was a day of connection—of all sorts. Passing through town, I looked into a cafe window to see Symposium and personal friend Jini Reynolds—from Redwood Valley—enjoying breakfast with husband Peter. 

Several miles later, sitting down for a minute in front of the Cleone Market I ran across a new-to-me, remarkable human, Troy Blanchard. Troy, probably around 40, was in a wheelchair, and challenged by body contortions and spasms. He pointed out that there was free food available around the corner of the building, and offered me water from his own supply. 

Troy smoked a cigarette as I ate my cabbage and jerky lunch, and told me his story. He explained how most people assumed that his lack of body control was due to alcohol or drugs, but that it was caused by Parkinson’s Disease which he had had his whole life. A month ago, he left his home in New Orleans, wheeling himself to LA in his wheelchair. Early on in his trip he was targeted by a hit-and-run hater, who intentionally drove into him in his chair, on the side of the road. The resulting injury cost him his left arm below the elbow. 

Troy is a heavy equipment operator, with a job waiting for him in Oregon. That’s where he’s headed. 

After we had been sitting/talking/eating in front of the store for about 10 minutes, Troy asked if we might walk together up the road. 

“I would be honored.”

Just then, the store owner came by and asked if Troy and I were together. 

“I just met him,” I said (a little confused as to why he would care), “but it looks like we will be walking together.” 

A moment later a very kind and apologetic employee came out to tell us that her boss wanted us to move on. It left a peculiar sourness in my stomach to slowly understand the reality of why we were being asked to leave. I realized how very privileged I am to expect that when I smile and wave at the world, it will smile and wave back at me.

The pawn of this businessman’s intolerance, Linda, had clearly befriended Troy. She called him by name and gave him money as we packed up. She also donated $20 to the Women’s Herbal Symposium. 

They’ve got it all at the Cleone Market: 

Discrimination/hate/fear and love/compassion/generosity, all moving in vibrant action, just like the rest of our world. 

“I’ll catch up with you”, Troy told me as he turned for the bathroom. So I started out ahead, more than a little concerned about the tiny margins of safety on the roads and Troy’s physical instability. 

Smelling a skunk which turns out to be a dead raccoon (how does that work?), I stop to take a photo. Looking back, Troy’s not there yet. Several long stretches looking back I can’t see him at all. 

After 2 miles I see Andrea, who has been keeping in touch with me since before the walk started. She has set up a rest stop complete with chairs, fruit, drinks, flowers and a little table with cloth, right there on the side of the road!!

OMG! This is the sweetest thing I can imagine! She even somehow knew my very favorite liquid treat, coconut water WITH PULP! How awesome is that?!

Just as I am arriving at Andrea’s pop-up party, who comes chugging up behind, but Troy. I commented on his ability to catch up and he answered with a grin, “I couldn’t let an older lady smoke me!”

Many showed curiosity about our unlikely social gathering in the pullout. One woman even stopped to ask if we were having a party. “Yes“, we told her. 

“What are you celebrating?“ she asked. Looking around at the connection point of three distinctly different lives, I could think of only one answer, “The human spirit!“

Troy decided at that point, that his wheelchair was too much of a handicap on the road. He left it with Andrea to donate and she drove him to Westport, advising him to hitchhike across to 101. 

I wake up in the middle of the night—a million stars accentuating the darkness of the dead (new) moon. The morning fog has not rolled in yet. I am awake because my body has now relaxed enough to digest, and also to contemplate the intensity of our lives—Kata, Cedar, Troy, and all the rest of us in the Grand Dance. 

Kata mentioned in our phone call today, how it felt like she had done this with Cedar before, for many lifetimes. She compared it to the movie, Groundhog Day—this cycle that they seemed somehow locked into.

It is the nature of humanity to explore the contours of God/spirit—all the way to the distant edges. We cannot know contentment until we know what it is to be discontent. We cannot experience happiness without sadness. We cannot value peace until we have experienced struggle and pain.

And so we spin through our interesting times—lives of polarization and extreme—until we can find our balance point, our realignment with God, the penetrating recognition and acceptance of our own perfection.

Want to meet up with her?
Call or text: 906-250-3771

Want to contribute to Dakota’s fundraiser for the symposium?

I have been enjoying a much needed rest in Fort Bragg for the last couple of days and have been in a whirlwind of activity to get ready for Symposium 1. I will be teaching three classes at these upcoming 2 sessions:

• Meditation
• Transformational Writing
• Miso Making (Session 2, only)

I also plan to sell at marketplace – so I’ve got a lot of prep to do.

I had intended to walk out of Fort Bragg this morning, for the final stretch to Laytonville. However disorganization of my mind and last minute changes to the walking team allowed life to create a couple of extra rest days for me here. How miraculous is that?!

The Walking-Through-Fort-Bragg party (along the coastal trail) is now scheduled for leaving Glass Beach around 11am, Monday, August 29.

It looks like I will be walking through the coastal mountains on my own – if anyone wants to join me for this stretch, you would be most welcome. I initially had some concerns about solo navigation of the remote terrain with lack of cell service. I considered hitchhiking this bit, but realized that the tiny hub of human activity, Branscomb, is conveniently placed in the middle, which surprisingly boosted my confidence. It is odd, but undoubtedly significant for me, to recognize how I do rely on our human social network for my own sense of security. Still.

And I remind myself, “Action in fear is not well spent. Act only in love.”

I once had a dream about meeting mountain lion, who loved and welcomed me – in no way threatening – and I turned and ran in the other direction in fear, even as I was being so loved.

So far, this walk has been powered by monumental love – a love so strong it cannot be expressed. It calls me to smile and wave regardless of any superficial judgements – and then those judgements dissolve. It empowers me to take step after step – far beyond what I think I can do. It allows me to hold all the petty fears and irritations of the mind, as well as the unimaginable grief of a mother who’s son has just suicided.

I speak with Kata almost every day. Life’s love for her shines bright, even though she is in no place yet to see it. So dark the pain – so insidious the shame. I think back on my experience of being a sexually abused teen. The shame of enduring what we know “should” not be endured. It doesn’t matter that our shame makes no sense – that we are not at fault. Shame is shame, and it will have its way until we learn control of the mind.

I have been thinking a lot about shame – that which motivated Cedar to his death, and that which tears through his mother with no regard for mercy. “I could have done this, said that, listened more…” These are the natural process of the grieving mind, and every adult I have spoken to about Cedar shares them to some degree. But this morning I had a different response.

In our culture, for as far back as I know of, most any possible distortion has been made to place blame on the mother. I was once told that I was not being considered as an adoptive placement due to the arrest record of my children’s father for a child safety violation that he had been cleared of. When I pointed out that I had nothing to do with the charge, I was informed that, “We always record these cases under the name of the mother.”

This was in Ukiah, just 12 years ago!!

If a child behaves harmfully in any way, it is frequently assumed that bad parenting – particularly mothering – was at fault. I get it. We mothers do influence our children’s lives. But being the mother of 3 now adolescent boys, who are very clearly asserting their independence from me, I object. I am offended. I refuse to be ashamed for the actions and feelings of others who I do not control. I acknowledge that I, like everyone else, am doing the best I can.

Many years ago I found great solace in the Healing the Loss of an Unborn Child ceremony at the Women’s Herbal Symposium. I want to see a group at Symposium to honor and attend to the needs of mothers who are grieving the loss of a born child, or that the two groups merge into Healing the Loss of a Child, in general.