Posts Tagged ‘sacred feminine’

Untitled Female Figure, Licia Berry, 1988, ink wash

It’s really true what they say, that if we are not aware of history we are doomed to repeat it.  We can see it on our world stage, we can see it in our relationships, and we can see it in how we become our parents if we have not done a significant amount of consciousness work.

Having internalized my father as the more positive role model of my two parents (if you know anything about my history with my father that may be jaw dropping to you!), I sought my way in the world with a dominant immature masculine energy as my primary lead.  I worked hard, I forced and pushed, I didn’t let myself feel much, I succeeded when I should have totally failed or died.  It was survival of the fittest; there was no room for getting soft or taking a breath or self care or soul care…none of that pansy stuff. 

That served me well enough to get through 5 years of full-time university and student teaching, all while making good grades and working enough jobs to pay the rent.  I had no help from my family and was living on my own in downtown Atlanta, a young girl with nothing to her name but a hand-me-down station wagon that stalled while driving and a scrappy attitude.

When I met my future husband, my survival was more assured.  He took me out to eat and I tore up a steak, threatening to spear his hand when he reached for something on my plate.  I had not eaten properly in 2 years, making due with one box of macaroni to last me a week, and mooching off of my wealthy roommate when she would let me.  Mostly I got through by just not allowing myself to think about food.  Keep moving, keep moving.  Besides, I was getting calories from the alcohol that folks would buy me at the dance club.     

It took some time to start to calm the wild beast who was fighting to survive within me.  Being in close proximity to Peter’s family (mine had been mostly out of the picture since I left home) induced a deep depression; those feelings I had been too resistant to give air time to finally had some room to come up to the surface.  I became a very uncomfortable FEELING creature.  I started therapy to learn why I was feeling the way I was, and began the long slow climb into consciousness and the light.    

The year that I was pregnant with my first son was when I began to consciously feel female.  I had been tough and together and sharp minded, but now I felt softer, squishier, joyful, less concerned with working hard to survive and more concerned with the baby growing inside of me.  I took wonderful care of my body, learned about organic foods and alternative ways of thinking.  This was when I started to see my inner nurturer come to the surface.  Somehow I knew how to treat myself as more precious.  This was such a great gift; it was truly the first time I can remember feeling feminine in an authentically powerful way.

My second pregnancy drew me ever more into the feminine, but the wild, deep, dark feminine.  I craved tribal music and walked in the woods and the mud.  I talked to the trees and the wind and the earth, feeling the eyes of nature on me as I moved through the world.  I carried sticks and rocks as talismans, weighing down my pockets with precious bits of ground that seemed to want to walk with me.  It was as if I were a child again, but a powerful, pregnant woman-child, innocent and knowing at the same time.  I found myself drawn to women in Asheville who taught me about birth being a natural process that my body knew how to do.  It was the beginning of learning to trust myself and my body as way-showers.

It was during this time I first heard the word Goddess, at least consciously.  I didn’t like it much; “Goddess” evoked images of hippie women in long skirts with wild hair and flowers in their teeth.  It evoked witches and feminists and crazed, alternative thinkers.  Even though I was coming into my feminine self in a powerful way, I was way too practical (read fearful) to embrace the “goddess”.  I experienced the Divine as something more abstract, a combination of feelings and love and creation and evolution.  I wasn’t going to worship anything.  I didn’t believe in a dude in the sky as my god, why would I believe in a woman in a skirt as my goddess? 

But my feet were firmly on the path of embracing Her, whether I saw her as a figurehead or not.  My internal knowing was taking me deep into Her, and what I discovered was that She was inside of me, in my body and heart and belly.  She wasn’t outside, wanting to be worshiped.  She was part of me. 

(to be continued)

Mother Five-Me, collage by Licia Berry, 2008

An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy.  ~Spanish Proverb

I thought I might open the window into my process a bit today by sharing with you my recognition that I needed a Mother in my life, and how that led me to the Sacred Feminine.

My biological mother was a physically beautiful, petite, perceptive woman with sharp eyes.  My early memories of her indicate a very young person who didn’t really know quite how to be a mother, as she was just a child herself (she was 18 when I was born).  She did what I suppose she thought she should do; her own relationship with her mother was not an easy one, and so mothering did not come so naturally.  When I try to feel her in my early life, I don’t feel much there.  There are shadows, a presence around a corner or in the other room.  It is as if there was an empty space where she should be. 

I do remember some times when she would sit and color with me, which I enjoyed.  It made me feel closer to her, and I felt the presence of her own inner little girl sitting with me at the table as we chose our crayons.  There was some innocence still in her.  We were equals, two young girls at play. 

But I don’t remember feeling the safety of a loving wise elder, a guiding hand.  I don’t remember feeling loved in the sense of being seen and accepted for who I was.  My mother speaks of loving me in the same breath as cherishing me like a doll that she dressed up in special clothes.

As I came into my 5^th year, I think I started to understand how warped things were in my family; my kindergarten picture shows a jaded and angry exterior.  But I still hoped for her to see me, to love me.  I watched her beauty and wanted to be like her, although I never was.  Her thin, dark allure matched the image that was on the tv and in the magazines.  So this was how to be a woman.

Things got crazier in my house when we moved to a rural house in the country outside of Goldsboro.  I think that’s when the drinking started to get out of hand.  Perhaps there wasn’t much else to do there.  My father would go to work each day, and my mother would put her long tresses in pigtails and work on the garden, deepening her already nut brown skin.  As she tended the squash, cucumbers and tomatoes, my sister and I would play outside with the neighbor girls, chasing their chickens or running in the tobacco field behind the house.  Perhaps the drinking was to fill a loneliness, or to assuage her fears that my father might be sleeping with other women (if my information is correct, this is indeed when he started to dally outside of the marriage).  Whatever the reason, this is when I remember having a conscious sense of losing my mother.

I was 7.  I remember having a vision of her, the sweet if unskilled mother in her pigtails, being seized by some aliens (I must have seen some sci-fi movie on the telly).  Her face is frightened; she is being taken away against her will.  She is then shrunk to the size of a Barbie doll, and flushed down the toilet in my parent’s bathroom.  In her place, an evil alien with a carefully arranged face of my mother steps in to our family.      

This is where I start to feel my mother is my enemy.  She was judging and critical of my body, my thoughts, my mind.  I remember feeling afraid of her barbs, stepping delicately around her anger (until I was much older and able to argue with her).  My parents would drink to excess, almost every if not every night.  When I had to get ready for school in the morning, she would sometimes still be passed out in the bed.  Sometimes this worked out in my favor; once I wore a slinky dress I’d found that was inappropriate for my age (I was 9), but made me feel like those playboy girls in my father’s magazines.  When the bus dropped me off at home that day, she was livid when she saw what I was wearing.  I don’t believe I ever wore that dress again.

Mother Three-Sheila, collage by Licia Berry 2006

Time went on; it became apparent that I was the reason for all of my mother’s anger because it was always me that got the blame.  Not one to step into her own inner wisdom, as she continued to stay with this man who sexually abused me, her and other women, she lashed out at me in her own frustration and despair.  Alternately pulling the “I’m the mother, I don’t owe you an explanation” with crying desperately and asking me for advice (“Licia, You’re so wise), I was a very confused adult child.  Needless to say, all of the surviving I did until I left home to go to school got in the way of cultivating peace within myself, and recognition of my own inner feminine.    

Years of therapy, inner work and education helped me to see that what happened to me as a child was not my fault, that there were familial patterns my mother played out, and for whatever reasons, she did not have the strength that I had to break those cycles and claim her life as her own.  Years before I had children, I decided that I would choose not to have any rather than pass on the sickness that was passed on to me.  Being awake in the face of folks who don’t want to be is a hard choice; there are consequences, such as being rejected and losing folks you very much want to have in your life.  To this day, she cannot go there with me.     

This forced me to look elsewhere for mothering.  Sometimes in the form of women who wanted my power, sometimes in the form of women who just gravitated towards me, sometimes in the form of women who projected their own mother issues onto me.  And I projected my share of mother issues, too.  Some very messy relationships with women ensued over my years.  I realized I didn’t know how to be in healthy relationships with women; my mother was my model, and she was distant, manipulative, angry and unconscious, all with a pretty face.  I did not want to play that out any longer in my life.  Finally, desperate for a mother, I turned inward.

(to be continued)

"Woman as Stone-She is Awakening" collage 2006 by Licia Berry

Dear Women!

What a year it has been, and it’s only early February! Many of us have felt both the exhilaration of the new year energy and deep intensity as the purging and transformation of our consciousness continues.

It’s only 10 days until my teleclass “Faces of Her: an educational and experiential exploration of the Sacred Feminine Within” begins on Thursday Feb. 18th.

If you are anything like me or the rest of the folks I am hearing from lately, you will understand that the old way of the world is not working any more. Many of us can feel internally that a new era is beginning.

What is happening? Why do so many of us have an inner knowing that the world is changing? What can we do to midwife a smooth rebirth? These questions and more will be explored in my “Faces of Her” teleclass.

If you FEEL and nod your head to the writings of Clarissa Pinkola Estes, if you DIG the art of Frida Kahlo, if Starhawk’s sweet words whisper into your very heart, if Jean Shinoda Bolen makes you want to jump up and create a women’s circle, if you admire and say YES to any strong, wise woman you hear speak her truth…then you will want to register for this 3-part class starting Thursday, Feb. 18th.

These women are shining examples of having integrated the Sacred Feminine qualities with their inner masculine qualities (the qualities in ourselves we are all taught to live from in western culture). Can you imagine if all of us brought the fullness and balance of the Sacred Union of the feminine and masculine to this world?

This teleclass will show you how by exploring:
• What is the “Sacred Feminine”?

• What is the “Light/Solar Mother”?

• What is the “Dark/Lunar Mother”?

• How do these universal energies show up in our lives?

• How is the Sacred Feminine already within me? How do I recognize Her?

• How can our lives be richer, more magical, and more alive by consciously experiencing these universal energies?

• How can I cultivate a relationship with the Sacred Feminine in my own life?

• Why is the embodiment of the Sacred Feminine important to our continuation as a species?

This class is designed to be appealing to the heart as well as the head, to be full of interesting information as well as an invitation into personal experience of the Sacred Feminine Within.

Personal experiences of the Sacred Feminine Within will be encouraged, inspired, and supported with images, story, poetry, meditations and exercises as well as educational material. You will leave each session FULL and looking forward to MORE.

This tele-class takes place on the phone in the comfort of your own home-you can wear your pajamas and fuzzy slippers!

Join me in this enlivening new/old experience! Choose now to step into your role in this amazing time of rebirth!
Come Home to Mama!

Register here!
http://www.liciaberry.com/Faces%20of%20Her.htm

Can’t wait to talk with you!
Licia Berry
Faces of Her
Creator of the Circle of WiseWomen (FaceBook women’s group)

Feeling as the New Frontier

First published May 12-2009-

(February 4, 2010-I re-publish this piece I wrote last year now as it comes to my attention again and again that we can do horrible things to each other or buy in to outrageous belief systems because we are not connected to our feelings….it is our feelings that guide us, provide feedback to us about whether we are following a moral compass, let us know if we are off track. 

Case in point: the incredible lack of feeling response demonstrated by James Arthur Ray, wealth advocate and teacher, who said in an interview 2 years ago that the Holocaust “was a good thing”, after people were traumatized (and some even died) at an event he held in Sedona AZ in October 2009 .  He was arrested yesterday, and the outpouring of feeling from the public shows that this is an important thing to look at.   http://abcnews.go.com/gma/video/spiritual-guru-arrested-sweat-lodge-deaths-9744388&tab=9482931&section=1206825

I have long said that the worship of the mind, intellect and thought as king is a very imbalanced masculine quality playing out in our world.   Feeling requires us to be present in our human, fragile, animal bodies, and to find a way to courageously live with that temporary, precious nature that our physical existence has.  Feeling requires honesty, that we feel the hard stuff as well as the easy stuff.  Repression of feeling is denying our physical existence, wanting to run away or escape, wishing it were different than it is.  It could be said that feeling is a feminine quality, if we look at it as a “being still, accepting and receiving” practice.  Perhaps if we were to balance our minds with our feelings, our world would not be in the state that it is in today.)     

Published on liciaberry.com and Face Book under notes

I write this today in response to an email that I received in which a woman friend is processing feelings and looking for some answers.  She is not alone!  I include partial transcript from that email, as well as more thoughts to offer.

I know a whole lot of folks who are feeling emotions right now….and I think this is GOOD.  I am told that the “return” of the feminine looks like folks FEELING their feelings, not just talking about them or conceptualizing them or thinking “positive thoughts”.  Feeling is not logical in any way…it is the right side of the brain, it is the feminine way, it is the antithesis of putting things in a box so we can understand them.  It is soft, animal, messy, uncontrollable, heart, soul, dreams, and water….it is the balance of the way humanity has been living for 5000 years. 

I FEEL and am told that feeling is the next frontier in human consciousness and expansion/evolution.  I think the women will be leading the way to learn how to BE this feeling state that we are entering…at least the women who have not internalized patriarchy so much that they are “men in skirts”!  We will have to allow this feeling to BE us, then we will teach others, and then the world will truly change to that balanced state so many of us feel coming.

We are meant to feel…this is part of our design as human beings.  We have physical, mental, spiritual and EMOTIONAL capacities, all of which serve a purpose and have a very important function towards our being fully human. 

My experience shows me that the problems come in when we judge ourselves for what we are feeling, or that we are feeling at all. 

Once a woman called in to my radio show…she was a “Law of Attraction”-inspired coach in her day job, but she was calling in seeking some answers for a traumatic event in her life; her son committed suicide.  She was driving her self crazy trying to cope with this incredible, unnamable loss by “thinking positive thoughts” and looking for “spiritual” answers about it.  What I offered to her was swift and clear: “Honey, you need to allow yourself to grieve.”  She broke down on the air, and wrote to me several months later that the permission to FEEL that I had given her changed her life. 

If you are finding yourselves in tears more frequently lately or feeling a little chaotic on your insides, maybe even angry or depressed, I would offer to you not to think you are going crazy or that there is something wrong with you. 

I say all this to reflect to you that I FEEL you are right on track….and that I echo your experience of feelings being a very important expression of my humanity right now.  I am finding healing, understanding, self acceptance and incredible love as a result of my allowing myself to feel without judgment or conception…just FEELING.  And when I allow the feelings, no matter how uncomfortable or painful to move through me, I come out the other side wiser, cleansed, and feeling whole.  I’m so grateful!!!

First published on http://www.liciaberry.com   in May 2009

Copyright Licia Berry 2009

Witch Power and Grandmother Nature

Like so many GOOD things that have been twisted, misinterpreted, and manipulated, the conclusion that I am coming to about the word “WITCH” is that it needs to be shed of its nasty connotations (at least in my own mind), and that the word needs to be reclaimed.

In the spirit of reclaiming, I invite you to play with me and create an acronym from the word “witch”…several of you have already offered some:

• Wisdom Intuition Transformation Compassion Healing -Peter
•  Woman’s Intuition Touching Communal Heart –Liza
•  Women Inspiring Truth Change + Harmony –Peter
•  Wisdom Interconnected Terra Caring Hope –Licia
•  Wonderful Intuitive Teacher Called Healer –M.

Let’s hear some more!

My last post has struck a nerve for some of you, and I’m glad to know I’m far from alone in critically examining this word “witch” and trying to understand what it means in an original sense, rather than a pop culture, commercial, colonial, Christian or patriarchal sense (did I leave anybody out?)

 I feel the need to explain why being called a witch is something that stopped me in my tracks.  I have been proud to be a rebel or outsider all of my life, not being willing to be defined by any category or fit into the main stream ideas of what a woman is supposed to be.  I have flaunted my independence, and happily yelled “THANKS!” when someone told me I was weird or different.  However, unlike when a fellow yelled at me from his passing car, “DYKE!” in my buzz cut college phase (I was fine with that mistaken label), being called a “witch” felt too close to home, insidious, and brought up a sinking feeling of terror. 

 I couldn’t understand why I would feel that way in terms of my actual life.  I have never identified myself as a witch, although in my spiritual practice I do some things that might raise the eyebrows of bible thumpers (such as meditation, using homeopathy and herbs to treat illness, and dowsing, a very useful skill I learned from an old woman in the mountains of North Carolina). Of course, my shamanic work could be classified as witchy were it not for its connections to the indigenous populations…or are they “witches”, too?

 While I lived in the village where I was “identified as a public enemy” (before I knew anything about these behind-the-hand remarks about me) I had intuitive flashes in which an angry mob would come drag me out of my office, grab me by my hair and drag me down the street.  The intuitive vision would stop there, not revealing the fate of the woman I seemed to be in the inner vision.  But the feeling of cold stones weighing down the innards of my belly did not easily or soon cease. 

This was not an entirely new sensation for me.  Back in Asheville NC, where we lived for 7 years, I had multiple odd spontaneous awarenesses that involved flashes of me being disemboweled, drowned, or beheaded.  One such instance was preceded by a physical break down of my right shoulder…for weeks it got more and more sore and incapacitated.  After many attempts to have it corrected through chiropractic and massage work (and Advil), in a strange fit of inner knowing, I paused in the living room on my way to take some laundry upstairs and asked silently what my body was telling me. 

Giving in to the motion, my body then took over…I began to move as if somebody much bigger than me was rearranging me like a puppet.  My inner eye saw a lovely young woman with reddish blond curls and a long flowered dress being brought forcibly into a crowd of people.  She must have been 18 or 19 years old.  She was pretty, but had a gleam in her eye and a set to her jaw. My right arm went slammed tight behind my back, fist up behind my heart.  I was forced down to my knees.  My head was pushed down so that I was crouched over.  In my mind’s eye, I saw a bloody stump of a tree, where I was now resting my chest.  As my eyes looked down on red ground, I heard and felt a stalwart, “I will never let this happen to me again.”  Then the “memory” faded, and miraculously, my right shoulder was completely cured.  Never another pain.

I stood there in a bit of a daze.  What the hell had just happened?  Was that girl me?  I wasn’t scared; more I had the feeling of knowing that my body had revealed something to me, and because I gave it permission, something had been released.  It was a pivotal experience affirming my life philosophy, which I have incorporated deeply since, that our bodies are the key to so much wisdom.

Was what happened a playing-out of some kind of cellular or collective memory? Or did I actually live through that?  When I was called “witch” in the tiny town in Colorado where I used to live, was it bringing forth another wave of memories that were asking to be acknowledged and released through me?  If so, what did this mean to me personally?  Why is this such a prominent and repeated feature in my life?

And that’s why I am asking these questions of all of you wise people, and why I feel the need to explore this line of thought.  What is a witch, really?  Where did the word come from, what are its origins?  And when did it become a word for something that was evil, scary, and needing to be put to death?  

And do any of you have these spontaneous memories or experiences?  If so, I would be so honored to hear them.

…cause I’ve been called one!  Seriously!

The town we used to live in, small as it was, had several churches.  There is a meeting of the spiritual leaders of those churches called the Pastoral Alliance.  And, as it goes in small towns, there is not a lot to talk about except for gossip. 

One of the more enlightened pastors of this group (who has since been fired from his position at his church and moved elsewhere) spoke to me quietly at a party about something that made me sit up and take notice.  Here was the conversation:

Licia: “I would really like to meet with other spiritual leaders in the community to exchange ideas and support one another.  It gets lonely sometimes to be one that folks come to for spiritual guidance.”

Cool Pastor: (squirming uncomfortably)

L:  “Is there any kind of support group or meeting of spiritual leaders here?”

CP: (falteringly) “Yessssss…”

L: (excited) “Oh, do you think I could come?!”

CP:  (sheepishly) “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

L:  (genuinely puzzled) “Why not?”

CP:  “Because the Pastoral Alliance is afraid of you.”

L:  “HUH?!  …Am I not the nicest person that you know?”

CP:  “Yes, you are a very nice person.  But they have had a meeting recently in which you were identified as a public enemy.”

L:  (kind of laughing, thinking it is a joke) “WHAT?!”

CP:  (looking very sad) “They have read some of your writing, and your beliefs are very threatening to their beliefs.  They feel that you are dangerous to their congregations.” 

L: (stunned) “Wow.”

CP:  “I’m sorry.”

L:  “What century is this again?”

I learned later that my children were taunted at school.  “Your mom is a witch.”  And not just by other children!  Not one person in that little town had the balls (or ovaries) to come say this to my face, but they sure were talking about it.

It’s made me think a lot since then.  What is a witch anyway?  I learned from my early Christian preschool conditioning and the Wizard of Oz that witches are bad, Bad, BAD. When I hear the word and me in the same sentence, my blood runs cold.  But why?

I am writing a long piece about this that will continue, but I needed to get this out there for some feedback.  In my quest for truth, consciousness and challenging the status quo, I want to know:

What is your definition of the word “Witch?”  Here’s what dictionary.com had to say:

Witch –noun

I’m not buying it. 

Let me hear from you…I really want to know!

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.

They say in therapeutic settings that we always confront and heal what’s easiest first.  For me, first was to confront the sexual abuse, then to confront my father, and to reclaim my sexuality, my feelings of safety in the world, and my power (and probably will continue to for the rest of my life).  Harder for me was confronting that my mother knew what was going on and did nothing to stop it; that betrayal has been harder to bear. 

Over the 21 years that I have been doing active consciousness and healing work, I have made great strides.  Most recently, in the last 4 years or so I have had the most amazing sense of relationship with the Divine Feminine, or Great Mother as I have called her.  It was my decision to actively cultivate this relationship and even embody Her on earth, to really fully claim my Feminine Self.  It has been challenging at times because this meant confronting and feeling the pain of what my biological mother did to me.  I realized that there is a direct relationship between my relationship with the Sacred Feminine and my feelings about myself as a woman, as well as how I feel nurtured in this world.

These last few years of choosing to embody the Great Mother or Sacred Feminine has been utterly delicious at times….I have distinctly felt Her grace and presence in my life, and I feel how different Her energy feels than the energy of the masculine or angels or Source energy.  There is indeed a distinct quality of energy that permeates the feminine principle.

I was under the impression that if I embodied the Divine Feminine, I would be providing a great service to the Whole as well as providing a wonderful service to myself.  I had always felt that masculine and feminine balance needed to happen in everyone, but for some interesting reason, I did not give a lot of thought to integrating my own Divine Masculine.  

It seemed that things were going swimmingly when I broke my ankle in February of this year (my right, masculine ankle in my case).  My ability to embody Great Mother came in very handy, as my inner immature masculine was very, very grumpy about the ankle breaking and being forced to sit still.  I realized I had used movement and busy-ness to distract me from feeling the painful feelings of my powerlessness as a child (and even as a baby, I am coming to find out).  When I was forced to “sit down and be quiet” for a solid 8 weeks, it provided the opening for me to discover that I had some work to do to heal my inner masculine.

Fast forward to today, when my ankle is mostly healed, I am getting around to some degree, and living a happy life in a new town, surrounded with beautiful family and friends who support me.  I had the most lovely invitation to attend a beach retreat as the resident writer (I am writing an article for the hosts that will be used to market their business), and looked forward to the time with women on the beach with nothing to do except pay attention to my needs and inner life.

One of the activities available to us was to walk a labyrinth that had been constructed on the beach.  My second full day in attendance, I was relaxed and happy, and went out on the beach that sunny morning to do some intuitive movement and breath work.  As I listened and deepened my inner awareness, I noticed that in my body’s experience and my inner vision, I picked up my self as a little girl, and she whispered in my ear “You are such a god mom.”  This delighted me to no end, as I have had a tough time convincing her that I would be a good mother to her!  I smiled and allowed this lovely experience to permeate me, then I felt the prompt to walk the labyrinth. 

As I stood at the opening, I prayed to experience my inherent wholeness.  I was in a very happy place and did not feel the need to initiate any healing process as per my usual stance.  As I walked, I hummed to myself as I felt my inner little girl integrating into me even more than she had before.  When “we” got to the center, I waited in silence for several minutes.  I could not discern anything in particular in terms of a course of action or intention, so I just paused there.  I definitely felt I was at the center of some womb space, far from the outer world of the beach and sun and sound of the surf.  The insulated quality of being inside the labyrinth was reflected in my mind and heart as I listened deeply for any sign of message or instruction. 

I did not feel anything in particular except great, great joy, so began to move out of the labyrinth’s center.  I got a few steps away when I noticed in my mind’s eye that there was a little lump of a person in the center.  I continued to walk forward, not really thinking much about it, when I felt distinctly I was to STOP.  When I get a strong “STOP” message, I am learning to do it on a dime.  I paused, and as I listened, I was told to go back to the center and “pick him up”. 

Him?  When I looked back at what had been a little lump of a person, I saw now that there was a dejected looking little boy in the center of the labyrinth.  Perhaps 3 or 4 years of age, he looked so sad and so lifeless, like he had no energy in him at all.  I was puzzled, but my maternal instinct took over, and I walked back into the labyrinth’s center to be with this mysterious little boy.  I sat there with him for a little while, me next to him on the sand.  He did not look at me except occasionally with a sideways look out of the corner of his eyes…he made no contact and did not speak in any way to me.  As I sat there, I had the distinct feeling that I was to pick him up and carry him out of the labyrinth.  I still did not understand at that point who he was or why I was to help him, but I did lift his limp body into my arms and carry him out of the labyrinth into my life with me.       

I have been carrying this little boy ever since.  I have learned since that day when I was so puzzled about the arrival of this boy that he is a personification of my inner masculine.  Thwarted very early in my life from expressing my power and will, this aspect of myself was arrested and has been in a de-powered state ever since.   In his de-powered but frightened state, he would holdup his fists sometimes, perceiving the whole world to be a threat, and other times he would just lay about and do nothing.  Another symptom of his immaturity has been to force, force, force things when instead some quiet stillness or discernment was needed.  My tendency to push myself relentlessly, as well as to analyze with my head are both outworkings of this immature masculine within.  His anger has been palpable; his rage at having his legs cut out from under him, being belittled and made to be still for unspeakable atrocities have made him a very mad little boy.   The fact that I did not know to acknowledge him within myself for all of these years might have added to his feelings of being so alone in the world.  So focused on my womanliness and my embodiment of the Divine Feminine, I did not see that what was even more broken inside of me was my own inner masculine.   

As the weeks have gone by, he has begun to show signs of life.  The more I get to know him and acknowledge him, the perkier and more animated he becomes.  He is looking at me now, and talking to me sometimes, too.  I am working with “him” every day, listening for guidance about how to support him, to heal him, to help him grow up.  My dreams of tiny babies, just inches long, being lost in my pocket or in a drawer have evolved into dreams of laughing baby boys that are able to morph into full grown teenagers, with full awareness of and delight in their remarkable evolutionary process.  My dreams, messages from my subconscious, are telling me he is healing. 

The pain I have felt as I opened this door into my consciousness has been very real and very intense.  There are days when I am hurting inside so much it feels like leaving the house is too much.  I have also doubted my sanity; in all the years I have done this hard work to reach into and heal the darkness within me, I have always been able to hold myself above the swirling dark waters of my feelings of rage and powerlessness.  A dip into the madness here and there, but never complete immersion…a coping mechanism, to be sure.  I keep reminding myself that I would not be feeling the intensity of the pain if I were not strong enough to do so. 

 And then today, there is light.  Despite the grey skies and downpour of heavy rain here in the panhandle of Florida as a tropical storm passes its eye over us, I feel some sense of a phase completed.  A very dark cloud which has been over me for some time is lifting, and I feel my life coming together in new ways.  A return of my joy, but deeper and more grounded this time.  A sense of wanting to DO in concert with the BE parts of me.  The little boy is now a teenager…he will periodically be a baby or a toddler or an adolescent again, I imagine.  But the evidence shows me that he is growing and learning that he is safe and loved.  Hallelujah. 

I am once again reminded how miraculous we all are in our unique processes, and have a humble, deeper sense of love and appreciation for myself and All of Creation.