Journey Through Trauma by Gretchen Schmelzer

Author:Gretchen Schmelzer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hay House
Published: 2018-02-06T05:00:00+00:00

Cages, Reenactment, and Flight

When I was in college I had a dream about an injured eagle.

I am swimming in a lake and the sun is shining on the water. There are other people swimming in the water. I look across the lake and I see a large cage sitting on top of the water. Inside the cage is an eagle. I swim quickly toward the cage because I am worried that the cage will sink and the eagle will drown. I am not sure how it is possible that the cage is just floating on the water, but I am sure there isn’t very much time left before it will sink. As I get closer to the cage I see that the eagle has a wounded wing—it is askew and there is an open wound. I want to get to the cage and open the door so that the eagle can get out and fly away before the cage sinks. I swim toward the cage and reach toward the door, but when I do, the eagle begins to hit its wounded wing hard on the bars of the cage. While it hits its wing on the bars it stares straight at me. I back off for a moment to let the eagle settle down. I reach toward the cage, and again, the bird hits its wounded wing, injuring itself further. I feel scared and frustrated. I want to help this bird, but my helping provokes it to injure itself. I am not sure how much time I have before the cage sinks, and I don’t know how to make the eagle understand that I don’t want to hurt it, that I want to set it free. Each time I reach toward the cage, the bird hits its wounded wing on the bars. It never takes its eyes off me. Every time it reinjures its wing I worry that it won’t be able to fly if I can get the door open. The eagle is watching my every move, and each time I signal that I am moving to the cage, it raises its wing to hit it again. Finally I can’t bear the anxiety anymore and I wake up.

If you have ever tried to heal from trauma or help someone else heal from trauma, you might recognize the eagle with the wounded wing—the part of ourselves that views safety and helping with the counterintuitive response of fear. This dream was incredibly instructive. I have never found a better illustration of what it’s like to confront the dilemma of wanting help and not being able to tolerate it or believe in it. Trauma wants to be healed. Sometimes I picture trauma as archaeological shards that rise to the surface through the wearing away of the topsoil that covered them over. The most ancient of our injuries will eventually start poking their edges out. The shards will out. The truth, not THE truth, but your truth, truth with a little t. But the problem is that this truth does not always come back in the form of words or a coherent story.

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