Posts Tagged ‘journey’

"Igmu Tanka Chantay Weh", collage by Licia Berry 2007 copyright

I’m from the south…I was born in North Carolina and lived in the south most of my life.  I’d never been west as a child (the furthest I got was Little Rock, Arkansas, but that’s a story for another time.)  Oh, and we went on a family trip to Dallas, Texas.  But I never got DEEP west until 1990, when I took a fateful trip with my husband that felt like pure destiny.  I crossed the Mississippi and found a world that captured my heart.

As a young married couple, we were feeling the itch to get out from under our roots and see the world, seek our fortunes, find out who we were.  We felt that a move out west was the right direction, but I’d never been there, so off we went during my summer break (I was a public school art teacher at the time).  We traveled the southwest on a three week road trip with a lot of music, a camera and not very much money.  It was the best trip ever.

I remember the feeling the first time we got west of the center of Texas and I saw the full moon rise behind us as we sped through the dark across the open plains.  There was something about that giant sky and that wise open space that cracked my heart open.  We went all over New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado and a bit into Utah.  We had multiple magical encounters on that trip; from outrageous coincidences to the awe inspired by the colors of the earth and the light, it was one head-over-heels experience after another.  We fell in love with Tucson, AZ and moved there two years later. 

We’ve lived in Tucson, Albuquerque NM and southern Colorado since…each time we have left the southwest to come back to the south (where we are now), but have boomeranged back, as if we are back to refill our cup with the magic that seems to live there.  I have been missing it again lately, which is what prompted me to write this post.

I was thinking about why I am overcome every so often with a feeling in my heart, a beckoning, as if the desert is calling my name on the wind, yet it is inside my chest.  I was wondering why the feeling I have when I feel the Sacred Feminine in my consciousness feels so similar to the feeling I have when I am in the wide open spaces, looking up at the giant blue sky and the mountains on the horizon.  There is a feeling of awe and quiet, a feeling of being so small in such a big place, a feeling of being held and nurtured, and a sense of ancient knowing.  It feels like Her.

Just a few days ago I realized that the desert is where I first consciously felt the Sacred Feminine.  And it is there that I have continued to deepen my relationship with Her.  Each time I have lived out west the ante gets higher; I am simultaneously driven to my knees and lifted up by Her magnificent presence, Her calling herself forward in me.

Maybe I come back to the south to bring what I’ve learned, a taste of the desert dream to this land that I come from and that holds so many hard memories of being a smart girl growing up in the bible belt.   And maybe I will go back to the sit at Her feet every so often and drink of Her wisdom.

The most recent translation of my Midlife Collage will examine the latest elements that I was guided to add.  They bring some interesting medicine!

• parsley – I utilize plant medicine as part of my energy work, so seeing parsley was a cue to me to ask parsley for some medicine.  Parsley is associated with regeneration, helping one have an open mindset to new ideas, including to guidance from inner realms.  
• the swinging lady - happy, playful, reaching for Spirit, me! 
• “marriage”  – refers to the marriage of my inner feminine and masculine, something I have been working on fervently for the last few years 
• “glorious debris” – when I ask about this one, I am given an image of the tail of a comet; there is beautiful stuff flying off the main body as it moves through space.  I get the feeling of releasing what’s in the way of living an authentic life, the life I have committed to live in the time I have left.  I think that this is how we get down to the essence of something, and that what’s left is what’s real. 

Perhaps this is what I’ve been doing as I navigate through midlife?  No doubt about it.  I feel as though I have been sandpapered, sculpted, stripped, honed, planed, whittled, and cleansed since I turned 42 years of age.  I really get the idea of midlife being a rebirth; it truly is an opportunity, a trial by fire, to come back to my core essence and decide again how I want to live my life. 

I’m so grateful for the messages and support of All Creation in all of its forms, and it is especially delicious when it comes through these guided collages that I dowse for myself and others.  There is something magical about seeing which images are chosen; I feel like a treasure hunter hitting gold when I hear the translation for the images and it makes so much sense.  I’m reminded (yet again) how much we are loved, how much we are supported, how connected we are to everything in the Web of Life.

This collage is not finished; as a matter of  fact, I am told that I will add something to it this week!  Oh goody.  What will my next support be?

My Journey through the July 11^th New Moon and Eclipse

Receiving, collage by Licia Berry, 2010

Sunday, July the 11^th is the new moon and total solar eclipse.  I hear from astrologer friends it is going to be a big one; this is confirmed by my invisible friends.  It is a new moon in Cancer, a water sign, involving family, relationships, feelings and the Sacred Feminine. 

For weeks preceding this event, I have been coming into wonderful alignment within, marveling at the information Consciousness is bringing through me for the book on Sacred Union and feeling great love for and connection with my husband after a time of challenge. It is blissful.

A couple of days before the event, I start to feel a little tension inside, a feeling of being a little less in the flow.  Fits and starts.

Sunday I ask for suggestions about how to work with the energy the most effectively, and am told to align with the energy of the eclipse, and do.  I feel the push to focus on what I want in my life, what new energy I want to bring in.  I do this.  I think about healing and love in my relationship with Peter, success and fulfillment in my work, joy with my children, healing and love for the waters and the world.   Ease and flow in my life.

We watch the world cup final and it is full of contention and conflict as one team plays dirty.  The other team, the better soccer players, win the tournament.  The octopus is right again.  Pete says 4 billion people are watching this game; it is amazing to be part of something that so many in the collective are involved in at the same time.  We bring thoughts of healing the gulf waters into this mix at this time.  I feel the beginning of a deep wave within me start to build momentum that night.

Monday, July the 12^th:  I awaken with a very sore jaw; I have been grinding my back teeth again, hard.  I feel odd, a little separate from my body.  I know this feeling; it is the feeling of something being “up” in my energy field.

I have immense release of grief and outdated energy dealing with feelings of unworthiness in the studio.  Very, very painful, racking sobs ripping from my heart, holding my head.  I am stunned by the depth of this wound, the message that I am bad, unworthy of love, a waste of space, a bother, etc.  This goes back too far for me to remember the origin of it, prior to age 2. I realize that all of my life I have been trying to prove that wrong while secretly believing it.  At times, it has felt like trying to hold back the tide with my finger in the dyke, and today I have to give in to the pain of this internalized feeling about myself.  It is what I have tried to hold myself above forever, the thing I would not let myself feel.

July 13^th:   I am very scattered in my energy, have trouble hearing intuitively when it is usually so easy.  Trying to do work is almost impossible.  I give up and ask what is going on, and am told that major energy movement has occurred in my system due to the release and that I am re-making myself.  The falling apart in order to be put back together in a new, improved way.  It feels like chaos.  I choose to be very easy on myself for the rest of the day.

July 14^th:  Awaken with sore jaw again, but feeling more “together”, as if the parts that were scattered about yesterday have come into a more seamless alignment.  I have profound awareness of and write about the imbalanced masculine within me and its efforts to prove wrong that I am unworthy through competitive behavior, seeking outer approval from the world, the pushing drive to be seen and be shown through physical evidence that I am loved. I see a tough little boy with his arms crossed and a defensive, protective scowl on his face. 

My inner masculine is so concerned about the outcome; he has a feeling of panic for his survival –All about the outer drive to succeed, to “make it”, to get the outcome, rather than the focus of being in the moment and revealing the message that is truth in my heart.  He is my internalized father, the one who pushes and forces, rather than acts in accordance with the feminine’s knowing.

I have made out-of-balance decisions from this place; this has led to things occurring that did not serve me in the end.  I have made some choices through this filter that had unpleasant consequences, such as pushing my divine timing.  I cry with grateful tears for this knowing, and wrap this wounded inner masculine up with Great Mothers arms within.  He needs love so much.  I rock him.  Hush, child…..heal, child.  Shhhhh.  In the feelings of being safe in the arms of the Sacred Feminine, my imbalanced inner masculine calms; he lets go of the need to prove himself as worthy.  Suddenly it doesn’t matter if I am successful, known, recognized, famous, fulfilling my purpose by reaching lots of people, etc.  I am overcome with feelings of love and connection.

As I drive to the studio, I have trouble focusing on the act of operating the car because I am having distinct sensations of being All That Is, the knowing of the truth of this, that I could say “Wake Up, Dreamer” and I, along with all of physical reality, would cease to exist. A feeling of death approaching, or the end of some existence….the threshold is close.  Looking back on my life as if it were a story or a dream, with fondness.  It is all okay.

July 15^th:  Another awareness of the pain in my life as a great teacher, including this year with a girlfriend that has triggered feelings of betrayal (this has happened over and over in my life).  Again as I am driving to the studio, I thank her out loud for being a teacher, for she has brought to my attention my core mother wound; she has been of service in this way.  I set the intention to heal my core mother wound from the inside out.  Perhaps she and I have helped each other with this mother stuff.  Interestingly, I am also guided to set intentions around receiving from the universe. 

Also very thankful for those who came into my life not bearing pain, but love and acceptance…I have learned and am learning much from them, as well.  I think I am moving towards learning in that way as much if not more than in the painful way. Maybe it doesn’t always have to be painful to learn.

I must be one powerful, big Being to have signed one for so many lessons in this life!  I’m smiling as I write this, feeling appreciation for myself and a sense of humor about it all.  I guess it’s true I like to learn.

I’m aware that the collective energy has been very intense these last weeks and days, but that every one has a different journey.  I do feel there is a common thread, though; I think it’s that we are being grown, being brought into more and more integrity with our true nature, being “pruned” of the things that aren’t in alignment with our authentic soul and expression.  If I allow this, open to it, flow with it, I find this kind of support to be a beautiful expression of how All Creation loves me with the tenderest of hearts.  It feels like coming Home.

A journal entry from 10-30-09

The little boy I picked up in the labyrinth (http://liciaberry.com/blog/2009/11/10/the-boy-in-the-labyrinth/) is beginning to stir now…he has more life in him, whereas he did not seem to inhabit his body very much before.  I feel he is a personification of my power.  I am healing my power as well as exploring what authentic power looks like for myself.  As I do this, I predict I will see this little boy grow into an actualized man.  And that I will feel comfortable and confident in the world, a genuine soul expressing their authentic power, informed by the Sacred Feminine in her power.

In recent weeks, I have felt such outrage and despair about the plight of women and children who are preyed upon by those who would use their power to dominate them.  So many stories of rape and murder; it is so heinous to me.  I was worried about myself because some modern “spiritual” folk say that anger is a bad thing to feel and it “takes your vibe down”.  I find myself wanting to fight them, which of course means I am fighting a part of myself that wants to gloss over the feelings and pretend everything is okay.  I also don’t want to be one dimensional, the angry feminist who drives folks away by her intensity and ire.

But I chose to trust my body and emotions as a message to me that there was something wrong, and I let it take me down a path.  Trusting, trusting.  As I allowed my anger and expressed it in my writing and conversations, it took me to a new place. 

I saw a purple matrix on a field of black, or a Great Web, and heard “Mending the Web”, over and over, for days and now weeks.  I saw that it would be fairly simple to continue down the angry path, let it fuel itself continuously, and break the web by posting and publishing angry thoughts. 

But then I saw that it is “women’s work” to heal, to mend the breaks in the web that out-of-balance folks cut.  I understood that my original desire in the world was to heal, and that has been the case until I got angrier and harder in my heart, wanting to be acknowledged for being right and for being victimized.  It is such a tricky thing to stay on that tightrope of balanced, righteous anger that needs to be felt and expressed, or falling over into letting it consume you, become who you are.  Letting ourselves be human when we have studied spirituality can be a tricky game to play with ourselves.

As I continued with some trepidation down this path into greater room and understanding, I also saw that women who are empowered (and me) are strong enough to be the big ones, the ones who will take the first step and reach out our hands to do the mending.  Just as many wise and respected feminists have said, it is the women who must lead the coming awareness and shift in consciousness to balance.  Quietly, perhaps in some ways…..but that it is up to us to start the healing of this world. 

Spider Woman, by Susan Seddon Boulet

Then, I saw and heard “healing the masculine”.  Ah, is it not enough to heal ourselves as women, and the damage done to us at the hands of the outrageously immature masculine without (and our internalized fathers and immature masculine within)?  Perhaps we may be called to turn and heal those who have trespassed against us. 

Well, I don’t know how this will work…I sure don’t want to get in a conversation with my father and attempt to “heal” him.  I already know he doesn’t want to do that in ways that I consider healthy for him.  But, maybe by healing my own inner masculine, helping my inner masculine to grow up in a healthy balanced way, with a mature inner feminine to help him, there may be hope.

Family constellation work has shown me that there is no such thing as space and time…that healing can occur for all involved when all the factors are present.  Perhaps if I heal and mature my own inner masculine, my father in some way is released from his own pain, and healing can happen for him (and others).

But first, I must peel back the face I have placed on him, the veneer of goodness, the stories of heroism that I have projected onto him, and believed.  I must see what is underneath.  Better get out the drills, hammers and chisels.  It’s time for the idealized father to die.

So much work I have done to awaken the Sacred Feminine within me.  So much attention have I given to embodying Her, to BEING Her in this world that has been so out of kilter for thousands of years.  And that has all been right because it has brought me home to a large part of myself that is strong, deep, profound in its desire to heal and mother this world.

And in the last few months, another voice has been respectfully poking its head into my consciousness.  It feels pointed, focused, exacting, harder than the quality of energy I experience with Great Mother or the Sacred Feminine.  It is absent entirely unless I give it permission to enter my space, and then it comes in with a full force of presence, taking up room.  To my great surprise, I am told it is the voice of Great Father.

Well, it is true that I have on obsession with balance.  I know that my soul has a sense of humor because that is my maiden name.  Balance is the closest thing to a religion I could say I have.  Balance is the way of the universe, the way of nature, the way of the middle road.  I respect and want to emulate balance very much, because I believe that is the natural way that things are, and I want to be as close to that as I possibly can.

Masculine/feminine balance is also part of that duality that we see played out in physical form.  Notice I did not say men and women, but masculine and feminine, qualities of energy that play at opposite ends of a spectrum, holding the space for physicality to occur through the magnetic polarity of opposites.  This is how all physical matter is able to be in existence.

So it would make some sense that my focus on the Sacred Feminine would be so successful…that I would feel Her, embody Her, teach others how to awaken that pathway within themselves…and that would lead me to Him, the Divine Masculine.  From the strength of Her, I will come to know Him.

More to come about my resistance to the masculine, the work I am doing to remove the veneer of my internalized father from the face of the Great Father, and the success I have had recently in my new relationship with Him.

Mother One-The Sacred Feminine, collage by Licia Berry 2007

Last Thursday, I taught the first class in my inaugural “Faces of Her” teleseries.  With great hopes and expectations, and lots of sweat and labor, I birthed this offering amongst 10 women. 

It touched me in a different way to teach this class; it came from a more vulnerable place.  I’ve taught many teleclasses, classes and workshops in my professional teaching career of 21 years, but this one was different.  It came from the center of my heart, from the core of my being.

The journey to come to acceptance of my own inner Sacred Feminine has not been easy; I faced what all people face when they realize that there is more to our lives than what meets the eye.  I experienced what all folks experience when they open to more feminine ways of being, and allow that to guide them in their lives.  It’s no secret; it’s not the way our culture teaches us to live.  Feminine equals weak or stupid or value-less.  My decision to reject these ridiculous notions was nothing less than anarchy.

Learning to trust myself over all others has absolutely been a feminine journey.  Learning to listen quietly when my impulse is to demand answers has absolutely been a feminine journey.  Allowing myself to feel my feelings of sadness, anger, fear, grief and rage has been a feminine journey, too.  These are all things that are suppressed in our culture.  

But actually offering what I have learned to others…now THAT takes some ovaries (they’ve been making noises at me through out this process, by the way!)  Being pregnant with this information, then going through the labor to birth it, then presenting it Thursday night has been nothing short of a feminine miracle.  

I came into my room yesterday, where I have an altar to Great Mother, and upon entering the scent of jasmine incense wafted into my awareness.  I paused to look at the incense burner; nothing there.  I asked my husband and children if they had burned incense, and they said no, they thought I had been (they smelled it, too!)  This is the second time in several days this has happened to me; a mysterious scent of something that does not exist in the physical reality of the space has asserted itself.  I wonder if, like the scent of roses signifies the presence of the Divine Mother, of the scent of jasmine also portrays Her blessing?  

The choice to offer “Faces of Her” has begun its magic…I am already different, MORE than I was before the class.  In the decision to offer what I’ve learned to other women, I have opened some blessed door within myself, and She is working Her way with me!

A second class has been created due to popular demand!  Starts this Tuesday, Feb, 23 at 7pm eastern.  Join us!

I’m not a scholar on Christian holy days; I observe spiritual traditions that make sense to me, that have personal meaning to me.  Until yesterday, Epiphany flew by unnoticed. 

The 12^th day of Christmas, Epiphany is the oldest of the Christmas festivals and originally the most important.  It is the day traditionally celebrated in Christian culture as the day the Magi arrived to behold the Christ child.

“The word epiphany comes from the Greek noun epiphaneia, which means “shining forth,” “manifestation,” or “revelation.”  In the ancient Greco-Roman world, an epiphany referred to the appearance of one of the gods to mortals.  Since Hellenistic kings and Roman emperors were considered by many to be gods, the word epiphany was also used as a term for divine majesty.”  (source: http://www.stpaulskingsville.org/epiphany.htm)

Yesterday was a day in which it felt like many veils were lifted between my eyes and the larger spiritual container I live in.  I had so many revelations, and indeed, one very important “manifestation”, that I once again feel affirmed in my belief that there is a larger energy that holds us all, and that if we align with it, magic can happen.

I sat in the morning for my inner guidance time, which I typically create several times per day (and always at night before bed so that I can bring my consciousness to anything pertinent while my body sleeps).  This is my time to be still, listen and feel my connection to the Whole and a larger perspective on my life. My usual pathway of access opened up, and I felt the familiar alignment click into place.  As I awaited the presence of higher consciousness in my mind, I felt a new (yet very old and familiar), somewhat different presence move in from the left of center, supplanting my usual interface with the Divine.

“Who is here?” I asked.  A vast, deep silence, a feeling of gravity, immense power in my belly and sweetness in my heart was the response.  I sat quietly straining to hear with my inner ears, but I couldn’t quite make out the name.  I asked, “Are you here to aid me in my highest good?”  Yes, I was told, and I felt a rush of goodwill pouring through me.  “Are you accountable to the light?”  I asked.  I heard, No, I am accountable to the dark. 

This is when I started squirming; my early Christian preschool indoctrination formed my young, developing mind into a good versus evil bent, and I struggle to this day with unconsciously perceiving light as good and dark as bad, even though I know consciously that this is not true. 

My resonance lies with the yin/yang symbol, in which the darkness and the light are simply two halves of existence that balance one another, and are therefore necessary for the Whole.  It is our small, human minds that place judgments on qualities of energy such as light and dark, calling them names and putting them in little boxes so that we can feel more in control. 

I have also studied the Goddess traditions extensively, and know that darkness, a symbol for the womb, for the void, for the night, for the face of the new moon, has been vilified ever since patriarchy reared its adolescent grab for power on the planet.  I know from hard won experience that anything we demonize warrants a closer look to see what we are projecting onto it.

I heard this Being that had entered my holy space speak that it was accountable to the dark, and took a breath.  “Who are you?” I asked again.

I am the Dark Mother, She answered.

I sat quietly, stunned at the simplicity and precision of this revelation.  I then proceeded to ask several clarifying questions, the first of which were asked to make sure I was safe to be interacting with this powerful yet benevolent energy, and the latter of which resulted from my increasing feelings of bliss and excitement.  Many moments later, I was in tears as accepted Her, and felt myself in the arms of my truest Mother.

Over the course of the day as I opened further to this awareness, my epiphanies ranged from seeing how the Dark Mother had been in my life, (very clearly had I eyes to see Her) for several years, to feelings of being Home.  The work I had begun in 2005 to embody the Divine Feminine was inspired by Her.  Images of the Black Madonna, which I’d written an extensive article about in 2007, flashed through my mind.  The many essays and radio shows and personal experiences of the Sacred Feminine that I’d processed and offered to the world as a road map fell into place. 

As a woman who resonates deeply (as well as recognizes within myself) the Sacred Feminine energies, I have spent time getting to know the several faces of the Goddess.  I remember in 1999 that Mary the Mother was the first face of the feminine I began to interact with as an adult.  She was safe, a clean symbol of goodness and light, and a good start for a woman fearful of her own feminine energy.

As a child, Isis was a frequent companion, but over the years I lost my sense of her.  She came roaring back into my life in 2001, when I got the tap on my shoulder to come out of hiding as a healer, and opened my energy work practice in downtown Asheville NC. 

Then other faces of the Goddess began to emerge in my consciousness.  Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Innana, Brigid, Tara, Cerridwen, Persephone, Sedna, Lilith, Mary Magdalene, Amaterasu, GrandMother Moon, Spider Woman and more.  As each of these treasured and varied Faces of Her visited me, I interacted with their archetype and integrated them into my own awareness, making those aspects within me conscious.  It has been a remarkable journey of awakening. 

However, my names for Her never included the Dark Mother, perhaps because of my subconscious association of dark with evil. 

I had heard of the Dark Mother as a name for the fierce Goddess Kali, She who oversees death and rebirth, and so I had approached the Kali archetype with a large perimeter and a considerable dose of respect. 

I knew the acknowledgement and appreciation of the darkness that comes with shamanic practice, in which the journeying through the various inner worlds must be discerningly and powerfully navigated. 

I had experienced the darkness of entering initiations, and coming through into the light, being reborn. 

And I had experienced the darkness that came with fully exploring the archetypes of some of the previously mentioned faces of the Divine Feminine….darkness in the sense of exploring in unfathomable places in my psyche, such as deep, winding caves and caverns, traversed along with my sister Innana, and at the bottom of the sea, along with my underwater kin, Sedna.  Darkness in the sense of moving through what cannot be seen with the eyes, but must be felt and experienced through the inner worlds, where great treasure is yielded for those who have the courage to undertake the journey.

How magical that on this day of January 6^th, 2010, which I have just now learned is called Epiphany in the Christian tradition, that I would be visited by my own “magi”, or sage, in the manifestation of the Dark Mother, bestowing gifts upon Her child.  Thank you, All That Is.

“When a woman tells the truth she is creating the possibility for more truth around her.”  -Adrienne Rich

free bird

There is something about having an audience that provokes an artist (of any kind, whether writer, musician, visual artist, actor, etc.) to rise to the occasion and express themselves.  I find this to be what will cause me to sit down and write, sometimes more than the need to express, itself.  But the need to express today is strong.

When I was a little girl, I had a vivid imagination.  I imagined worlds and dramas and tragedies and great tales of heroism.  I sometimes told these stories during show and tell in 1st grade, interweaving the facts of my life with the fictions in my mind.  These acts of creativity were unappreciated for what they were, however.  The era, the lack of knowledge or understanding in the family I grew up in, and the location of backwoods North Carolina where I grew up had little appreciation of normal child development, and so I was labeled a Liar.

That label followed me around for many years….again, doing what normal children do to sometimes cover up their mistakes, to try to look good in the eyes of those who have the power, to try to minimize the punishments for falling down, I sometimes did not tell the truth.  No, I did not take a cookie.  No, I don’t know anything about the candy in Grandmom’s drawer being gone.  No, I did not take the few coins on my father’s dresser.  It is absolutely true that I did those things.

Later in life, as I understood some of the crazier events that happened to me in my family, I began to see that labeling me as a “Liar” was a brilliant, if unconscious, strategy.  No matter what excellent grades I brought home, no matter what awards and accolades, my identity at home would be one of not being trusted to tell the truth.  And so, when I did understand the importance of speaking out about my early life and dealing with it head on, I would have an inner conflict set up even before I started.

I wonder now if there is a different standard for boys and girls when they do the inevitable and make up a reality, or lie.  Are boys expected to be “naughty” and therefore not stigmatized about lying?  Are girls expected to be pure and chaste and innocent, and so if they act out in ways that children do, they bear the brunt of unfair discrimination?

I remember a particular day when I was 11 years old, when I was caught in a lie (I cannot remember what it was, perhaps the stealing the change on the dresser thing), when I was sent to my room.  I lay on my bed and cried for a long time, feeling a sense of injustice and not being understood.  My parents did not give me an allowance, so I did not have money to buy myself little things like candy or toys.  At the time, I didn’t intellectualize the fact that children need to feel a sense of power and control over their lives in some aspects as they begin to enter adolescence, a healthy, normal development, and that my taking the change from my father’s dresser was an attempt to have some power.  I just knew I felt zero support and understanding in my world.

My father came up and sat on the bed with me for a long time, speaking the importance of telling the truth and how all we have in this world is our reputation.  It may surprise some of you to know that this was one of the most beautiful gifts my father gave to me in our twisted, convoluted history together.  While he raged and sexually preyed on me as a drunk at night, when sober, he became the kind of man my inner masculine wanted to model myself after.  His sharing of his concept of honor made such a deep impression on me at that age that I am touched by his teaching to this day, and part of my moral code and devotion to truth I attribute to this conversation.  How interesting and ironic that my dear father, whom I love and hold in my heart despite everything, would coach and prepare me to reveal what he did to me.

Perhaps I was at the age that I began to understand the difference between truth in the consensual reality and the truth of my imagination.  Perhaps at age 11-12 the child’s brain is capable of conceiving what that means.  Already a prolific writer and winning competitions for my essays in school, I had some sense of the worlds that I had access to through my artistic ability.  I began to learn that I was intelligent, and that the way I put words together had an impact and inspired people.  But add the complexity of what had been done to me in the name of satisfying sexual greed in the dark of night, and the desperate need to keep the secrets in an alcoholic family, and you will see how the telling of the truth has become a very loaded topic.  The gravity of the truth began to shine clear, and the heavy weight to burden me.

What is the truth?  Is something true if we don’t want to look at it?  Is it true despite our attempts to deny it?  What are the ramifications of pretending something isn’t true when it is?  These are all questions that I have wrestled with in endless cycles since I began to wake up.

To this day, I have an obsession with truth.  To the point that if I try an experiment and say something that is NOT true, such as “My name is Beth”, I will start coughing.  I can’t do it.  My inner barometer won’t let me speak or write something that I don’t personally experience as true. 

I have examined many spiritual traditions as well as modern physics and understand now that there are as many realities as there are perspectives, and all are valid.  I also know (and experience) that if a reality is unobserved it may as well not have happened. 

Additionally, I understand that there is some modicum of truth that we can all agree to, if we are willing to acknowledge it.  While my family has given slight, grudging acknowledgment of the sexual abuse and no acknowledgement of the alcoholism I encountered as a child, there is great resistance to me talking about it.  Does this make it untrue?

In my desire to be a loyal daughter, I have censored myself for many years, even though the truth has leaked out in ways through my writing and art and conversations.  Even in therapy I have protected my family as a “good daughter should”, revealing only parts of the story, perhaps the parts that I could handle revealing to myself.  I love my family, as people and as having been the sieve through which I arrived in this world.  I would not be who I am without them.  I have even attempted over the 21 years that I have been in conscious recovery and healing work to actually heal my family, out of my love for them and desire that they, too, be free from the sickness that bound us.  They have been unresponsive, however.

Now, the bird that has lived caged in my throat must be freed, and I am going to talk about my life openly and unapologetically.  I will censor no more.  I choose not to become a raging fanatic for a cause, because that would be out of balance.  Yes, I am a survivor of sexual abuse and an adult child of alcoholics, but that is not my identity or the sum total of who I am.  Not by a long shot. 

My desire is to tell the truth in a measured, grounded way, honoring myself, with the intention and purpose to heal and to give permission to others to acknowledge the truth within themselves, no matter how heinous it may be to see.  I know from my own life journey of looking at these truths that therein lays the path to integration and Wholeness.  And an even deeper appreciation of The Truth.