The Alchemy of Menopause: Step One- Calcination

As the inner fires sweep through my body in intense waves, I brace myself, I lean into the flames, and I melt. I melt away attachments to the self that I thought I was, the self that I tried to construct or that was constructed for me, the defences that I put in place to protect that self, and all that I was sure I knew, all of it into the pyre.

It doesn’t happen often, the fire, it has only started to burn, and when it does it doesn’t last long, but the sensation is not unpleasant, in fact, I have come to savour these sacred moments. I close my eyes, I inhale deeply, stop what I am doing and journey with the fire. I dance in the flames. It’s a rush, it’s a buzz, it’s better than any drug and it is all being made in the alembic of my own body. The Holy chemistry or creation, destruction, synthesis, and renewal.

It’s a bit trickier at night as it disturbs my sleep. I wake up sweating with intense pulsations rippling through my body (fire serpents). I become acutely aware of the places where energy is stuck, like cancer. Did you know that when bodies are burnt in crematoriums, cancer remains as a black mass that takes longer to dissolve in the flames. It’s true. I learned this last year (the year of death), when in my training to become a Celebrant, I visited a crematorium and got a full run down of the behind-the-scenes process. The cremator who was showing me, explained that after a body has been burning in the cremation chamber for some time she looks through the glass window, when she sees a remaining black mass, she knows that the body had cancer… a cancerous body takes longer to burn than a cancer free body. Sometimes, she told me, the black mass would still be burning the next morning. It was this bit of information alone that has stayed with me, and that I think of now as I attempt to describe the menopausal burning. As the inner flames of purification spread through my body, I know where the densest blackness resides within me. Maybe this is unconsciousness, or trapped energy, maybe it represents what I am not yet willing to let go of. I try to offer it up to the fire, but I am also tender and compassionate to those parts of me that are afraid to let go. The wounded parts. The parts that are still stuck in the past.

At night I kick the duvet off, I open the window, I breathe deeply, I hold my body, I stretch my body, I lay tender hands upon my womb, I love her. Then I am cold, and I cover myself, nesting down in the cocoon of feathers and the soft darkness. Silence. How I love the silence. How I love the darkness and the stillness, and the silence. And in these moments, I cannot imagine being partnered, to share this sacred space with any other being, for I am in the process of discovering who I am, undiluted, essential, alone before the mystery.

I do not fight the sleep disturbance; I trust that I will get enough rest and that tomorrow I will be able to do what needs to be done. The trust that I feel is growing. I trust this process. I trust my body, I trust that I am being transformed, and that through this transformation I am reborn. I trust that no matter what happens, it is the right thing for me. The goddess has a plan for me, for all of us, and no matter how big or small, it takes humility to allow this plan to bear fruit. Ironically the need to get outside of oneself is as crucial as the need to get inside oneself- the goddess is a paradox.

Medical textbooks put this profound profusion of heat down to a lack, a fault, a pathology. Through the lens of biology, they explain in a perfunctory manner that it’s because oestrogen doesn’t activate the hypothalamus correctly, and the body cannot regulate temperature correctly. Through this precise and sterile lens, the burning happens as a result of a fault, an incorrection. But I know differently, to me it is all perfectly correct. It is the medicine of the Mother, that does not deceive and does not cost money. It is medicine that does not heal symptomatically or palliatively, nor by synthetic pain relief, or pharmaceutical drugs. She (the physician of the soul) does not avoid pain, she goes straight to the root, penetrates down into the darkness of matter, into cells, into bone, into marrow, into blood, into sickness. She is all pervasive, spreading herself sinuously in undulating waves through memory, thought forms, DNA, subtle bodies, time and space, through realms and dimensions. She is the Dakini of fire dancing on cosmic particles of light, surfing the waves of inner space, and the portals between atoms. Menopause is quantum.

This fire is not only a biological experience, nor is it a biopsychosocial experience, it is not even a biopsychospiritual experience, this is nothing short of a bio mystical experience. When you realise that there is no Holy Grail to be found anywhere in the world, that you are the Holy Grail, the magnum opus, the jewel, the great work, the masterpiece, you have become your own creator and your own destroyer, your inner Kali severing the negative ego and false attachments.

All your life, all your suffering, all your joy, every thought, every experience, every encounter, every trial, every shedding of your womb, every shedding of your skins, every conception, pregnancy, birth, miscarriage, death, stillborn, whether on the physical, emotional, mental, astral, or spiritual planes of existence coalesce now as the pearl of your soul. But first, anything that does not fit the masterplan will be purified and transformed in the alchemical flames.

The phoenix rises…

The final result, upon completion of the next 6 stages, (yes, we’ve only just begun this alchemical odyssey) may not be glamorous, it may not be beautiful by any measure of society, in fact, it may not be recognised as anything of value at all by the measure of our current society, but it will be the rarest and most precious thing of all- the full, integrated, sovereign, woman- the true and rightful Queen (of herself).

This Mother medicine is the medicine of the shaman, and the psychopomp, it is Hekate at the threshold, holding her blazing torch of fire, illuminating the paths before you. Which one will you choose to illuminate? Which path will you walk?

The message we receive is that we do not have to take the path of descent, there are ways of staying afloat, of looking younger, of feeling younger, of experiencing what is being marketed as “a second spring”, of holding on for dear life to our old self, even while she crumbles. The message is in the medium that hits us from every source, packaging, commodification, pathologizing, corrections, but these are artificial mediums. The true medium is the inner superhighways, human plasma (not machine plasma), the endocrine system that is responsible for hormonal changes, and the chemical and alchemical messengers of Nature.

Nature destroys just as she creates, and to usurp or master Nature, to override her codes has always been the quest of homo scientificus. Bio-medical treatment for menopause such as Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT), including bioidentical HRT, is widely available. My concern is what we are losing in the disruption of natural hormonal processes. Are the psycho- spiritual, or bio-mystical elements of menopause still active after artificial intervention.

To leap into the fire, to stand in the flames and surrender to the alchemical initiation of menopause may not be easy, and it is more troublesome for some. How women experience menopause is somewhat shaped and influenced by cultural norms and societal views. What has traditionally been seen as a fault, an imbalance, a lack, an affliction, and a disease in the West, has been viewed as a positive rite of passage in some other cultures, notably Mayan and some African communities like the Batlokwa where women who have gone through menopause are given a new, respected name. Here menopause is a transition in which the menopausal woman joins the circle of wise female elders and is celebrated with music and dance.

Bio- spiritual processes cannot be intellectualised; they are not rational, you cannot know how you will appear on the other side, if you will appear on the other side. It is no longer up to you. You come to realise that it never really was. Clutching the illusion of control became a heavy burden. Are you not glad to finally lay that burden down at her feet and dance freely in the flames of transformation, and to sit in the darkness and the silence, without words, listening only to the ancient wisdom contained within your own body?

What remains in the ashes once the old self is burned?

For myself, I am letting go of old stories that I have clung to throughout my life, probably to protect myself, my fragile ego, and my hurt little girl. I do not blame, or shame, or judge these parts of myself, I gently release them, dissolve them in tears (moving from calcination to dissolution) and feel enormous compassion for myself and those who have shared my life to varying degrees. The trials, the trauma, the suffering, the fear, the judgement, the challenges, the gifts, the Faith, all of it having played a part in the theatre of my soul, a preparation for my defining role, my signature role, the pièce de resistance, before the final curtain falls.

If you would like to work with me on this topic, I offer 1-1 sessions both on-line and in person. I am also offering on-line workshops.