From Ch. 11 "Power and Control in the Healing Relationship" 

"I don't know how to help you," I said to Jolene. Deep despair wove itself into every thread of her being. She said it felt like there was a serpent of darkness slinking its way through and wrapping itself all around her, squeezing the life out of her. "It's helping just to be heard," she said, leaning away in shame ". . . and . . . that you're . . . h-h-ere." Jolene, usually a cheerful and sweet young woman, had surfaced some very painful memories of childhood abuse and ways in which she had hurt others as a result. We'd worked together for some time, and over the last year she'd learned some very effective strategies for releasing the energy of these traumas, but today nothing was working. The tool bag was empty again. As I sat beside her, I noticed that none of my self-doubt receptors were firing as they sometimes do in such situations; it was easy to stay in Center. I trusted that she would move through this pain, that light and love would come to her as it had so many times before for her. "This is a deep, core pattern now. As it releases," I assured both of us, "you'll be ready to grow even more." Our time ended with her still in despair, but able to be on her way. That is, I thought I trusted.

In the middle of the night I awakened with a nightmare in which no matter how hard I worked, I wasn't able to help a whole bunch of people in need. There were those need to help others receptors having their way with me again, asking to be honed a little more. One obstacle after another was thrown in my way in the dream, until I was nearly buried in a pile of stuff. It felt like Goldsworthy's stones had fallen on me, and I was helpless to move through them. I got up, did what I could to clear the energy and eventually went back to sleep.

The next morning I called my mother, now in full-blown Alzheimer's, only to hear her cry in rage and despair. She was inconsolable, so all I could do was just stand in the presence of her pain, knowing and accepting that I was powerless to change anything. Again, I was being guided by Center to do nothing and be love. How much helplessness could I stand in 24 hours? She was still crying, but saying I should hang up, so I did. I went to the forest, climbed the hill and gave my body to a big rock. The rock held me, much as the mother tree had years ago with Amber. The sun warmed me; Earth and Sky listened together as I cried. Tears of helplessness quickly passed into trust. A trust, deeper than what I had known the day before, took hold—Jolene will find her path and so will Mom. They will hurt again, and so will I, but there's a power to heal that is greater than even pain. It's the power of interconnection, of the natural flow of light to dark and back again, the power of divine love to ease the pain. Sometimes we only find it in our helplessness. 

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