Following Rainbows and Finding Peace

Last month, I traveled to a small village in Okinawa, where I met with a new client who flew in for an in-person healing retreat and class. Like I usually do, I arrived a day early to settle into my rental and to do all the necessary preparations before meeting with the client. The first place I always visit is the local beach where I pay my respects to the land and the nature spirits and water and ask for support for the healing time ahead. But after a full day of travel and then getting caught in a downpour, I decided to stay put and wait until the morning. Just as I was about to unpack, I suddenly turned my head and caught a glimpse of the edge of a rainbow right outside my window. It was so close it could have tapped the window to get my attention! It was all so unreal I wondered for a moment if I was imagining it. My curiosity took over and without a second thought, I grabbed my red umbrella and phone and went back outside, following the rainbow’s arc. And I kid you not, it led me to that beach!

The rain had stopped and the air felt hopeful and welcoming, as if the rain had washed the past clean. There was a sense of celebration and renewal all around. Looking closer, I noticed hermit crabs scurrying about, full of life, as giant ancient limestone rocks stood tall and patient, like grandfather protectors. It was clear this place was home to countless creatures, both seen and unseen. The clouds billowed with laughter. The landscape was as sublime as a dream of heaven. I felt deeply grateful—for the rain, rainbow, my curious heart, all that led me to this serene, tranquil, yet lively moment in time. There was only one other person on the beach. We were each lost in our own worlds taking pictures of shells and plants and the water, content and consumed by wonder, like two naturalists quietly observing the bounteous beauty on offer.

Then, like some practical joke, a large black U.S. military airplane flew overhead tearing through the sky and I could feel myself starting to become angry. The contrast to the tranquility was jarring to say the least and I didn't like it. We each took a picture of the plane—I’m not sure why I did, I really didn't want to but I did too. And to my absolute surprise, after I took my picture, something shifted in my heart. It felt like some central rock of a stubborn old wall had become loosened and all the rocks around it started to crumble down. I remained standing there watching the plane fly toward a ripening moon, and with clear eyes, almost triumphant after so much searching and seeking, on the eve of this healing retreat (which is always just as much for me as it is for my client) I understood something for the first time.

Since arriving in Okinawa each time I'd see, or rather hear, a jet fighter boom through these peaceful skies my body would shake with rage from its shockwaves, taking me back to the unpredictable violence that surrounded my childhood. It's taken me years to unpack it all and somehow make peace with the hate that remained in my body by slowly and carefully disolving it within a much more powerful solution.

There's no way to make peace with war but we can understand, by the way it feels in our bodies, that hate begets hate. And it was clear in that moment that I still had another layer of father forgiving to do.

So as I stood there in the middle of a lesson, supported by all I had just seen and communed with, including the water spirits, it felt like the time had come to learn about peace on a new and deeper level. Trust me I'd rather have just enjoyed the beach! But I was preparing for a healing retreat and this was part of my work, I had to heal myself first. 

The love and beauty from my surroundings lent a space to speak with my rage, to ask it important questions, and then let it guide me onwards.

We feel rage for a good reason if we feel it at all. There's information there understanding to be gained if we're willing to dialogue with it, which I know all too well is easier said than done. But I found some courage and I started by asking, "What's here for me? What do you want me to know?" 

And slowly but surely I was able to calm down and reconnect with my center and create some safe coherence within.

I began to undersand the emotional intensitiy of rage can be quite useful when it can be mastered. Like it offers us the pointed energy and powerful focus needed to go after what's important to us, it can turn into unwavering determination. Rage can become our ally to cultivating a life filled with peace. Not a tranquil peace entirely but a dynamic kind that can look at war planes and say, "I'm growing and getting better and better, today I'm filling my body with more beauty than yesterday, and more connection with love and healing than ever before."

Finally, the hurt from the past began to drop away. I gave it all to the water. I was understanding that this was my father's path. Perhaps to show me what it looked like when you become more rage than love, and also the unfortunate karmic consequences of that. I walked around the beach stepping in and out of the water and pondered this for a while. 

I had one last question. "How do I fully heal my father wound? How do I let go of the pain of the past and step into a new relationship with my father that's pure love?"

"If you ask it, it is done."

By this time the rainbow had disappeared and the sky was gradually darkening into night. It was time to go back inside and rest. I thanked the nature spirits and my ancestors and also the spirit of my father which was strongly present but in a gentle way, not the way he was when he was alive. I thanked myself too for continuing on this path, for not getting stuck in my rage today but finding the strength to befriend and listen to its wisdom, for the dialogue.

Using the intensity of rage to do clean battle against those forces that keep us from experiencing true love and freedom feels like genuine peace. Because afterward, a supreme gentleness comes into the body that nothing and no one can touch or take away. And to do clean battle we must be clean in our hearts and minds.

Peace is more than a tranquil day, it's dynamic and constant and begins within. It's like the creative primordial stuff that gives way to a dancing star. I thought about that plane again and it became just a plane.

I said "thank you" out loud, and then started my walk away from the beach, thinking about dinner.