Posts Tagged ‘self love’

a story about searching for one’s lost tribe

Wingapo Cheskchamay (“Welcome, All Friends” in Powhatan language)

I share this excerpt from my book with you now because I have lately struck a chord in some of my posts….there are others besides me who do not feel that they fit in, and are looking for their tribe.

Being “lost” is a kind of dramatic tale to weave…..it appeals to many. There are certainly lots of stories in history of “lost tribes” and their tragic search to come home.

I am a prime example of this in a genealogical sense….I see no separation between what lives in my blood, what lives in my mind, and what lives in my heart…..the greatness of my spirit holds all aspects of myself within its hands.

However, I choose that my having been “lost” has brought me many gifts and learnings, and that in the end, I have not been “lost” at all.

An excerpt from “The Blue Eyed Indian”
By Licia Berry www.liciaberry.com
Copyright 2008

Outer Banks of North Carolina

“My European ancestors were among the first to arrive at the remote barrier islands of what is now called North Carolina’s Outer Banks. In the 1500’s, the islands were alive with the Croatoan Indian hunters and fisherman who scoured the maritime forests and the rich waters for bountiful fish and game. When the fair-skinned people with the blue eyes arrived from the giant crafts on the water, my Indian ancestors were intrigued, and being polite, welcomed the visitors to their island. They feasted together, they showed the guests their lovely island (like we would for any tourist to our home town), and eventually, some of them fell in love.

Some of the fair skinned people feathered into life with the Indians; others went north to create the English settlement of Roanoke Island. This settlement later became “The Lost Colony”, when, fearing they had been abandoned by the English and needing help to survive, they returned south to live with the friendly Croatoan Indians in what is now Buxton, NC. These are the people I come from.

When the next larger waves of Europeans would arrive to the New World a generation or two later, they wrote with their quill pens in their journals of the peculiar “Blue Eyed Indians” they encountered along the North Carolina coast.

As more Europeans arrived, the goodness of the land on the Outer Banks was coveted for its rich resources and its location as a close ally to the ports in Virginia. The Indians began to feel the conflict that these fair skinned people brought into their midst. Skirmishes broke out, and eventually, the fair skinned people overtook the islands that had been occupied by Indians for 10,000 years.

Outer Banks Indians fishing on Pamlico Sound

The blue-eyeds among the Indians had a choice to make; were they white, or Indian? They would lose their lands on the island if they sided with their red-skinned kin….Would they survive if they sided with their European blood? For some, the call to explore the blood of their parents or grandparents, those who had come from far across the waters, brought a certain sense of longing, and they stayed with the whites. A few elected to go with the tribes, who retreated inland to nurse their wounds and to make plans about how to carry on. Some went north to now Virginia to be absorbed into the great Powhatan nation; others remained in the woods and wetlands of inland coast and eventually disappeared into the trees with their culture. The Croatoan had lost their best fishing grounds, lost many of their children and suffered humiliation after opening their arms and hearts to these fair-skinned people. But those who were part Indian, those who elected to stay with the Europeans, lost the precious knowledge and support of their Indian culture.

Generations of Europeans came to the Outer Banks and settled on this wild coast, making their living fishing those waters once enjoyed by the Powhatan, and scavenging off of the hundreds of ships that floundered on the Diamond Shoals, earning the nickname “The Graveyard of the Atlantic”. My father’s side of the family still remains on this remote outpost, miles off the mainland of our country. They speak in a soft brogue that reminds of me of Scotland, England and a faint tongue that is lost, the language extinct except for a few words. They are stoic and stubborn, refusing to leave the island when hurricanes bear down on the fragile sands. They also don’t like to admit that they are part Indian.

In fact, I didn’t know that we had any Indian blood until I was in my thirties, when a rebellious aunt whispered to me of our history. I have observed a bigotry and arrogance in some of these noble Hatteras people, as if they are better than every one else, perhaps because of what they have survived as they eke out their livings in this harsh place. I have never understood this stubborn need to protect our “heritage” as all-European (or, all white as they would say). Perhaps when they were forced to make the decision to be “white” in order to keep their homes and land on Hatteras Island, a psychic door closed on any other possibility.

But I was different.

All of my life the spirits of the wind, the water, the rocks and trees and earth have spoken to me. As a child, I was a wild nature girl; tangled hair and dirty face were my costume….I fought taking baths and showers, preferring to remain sister to the dirt. In frustration and in answer to my defiant nature, my mother chopped all my hair off at age 6. I tried to get lost in the woods and never could, because I knew the way home. The animals were my guides and messengers. The forest whispered of its love for me. The universe supported me, and Nature was my friend.

Yet, I was so different than the family who surrounded me. I didn’t fit; when I spoke of the subtle energy that I tapped into, I was ignored or strongly corrected. I wasn’t hearing and sensing and seeing those things; I was making things up. I got quieter about my feelings, but they never went away. Under the protection of the dense brush and out of sight of my elders, I performed ceremonies to honor dead birds or lizards that I found, to listen to and guide the ghosts that needed help to find their way home, to dance with all of creation as my cohort in life. No one had taught me these things; I just knew how to do them. And then came my initiation into the shamanic world….”

To be continued….

A Blue Eyed Indian

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.

Hiding

I had a conversation recently on FaceBook that was prompted by Former President Jimmy Carter’s statement that the root of much of the violent opposition and derision towards President Obama is based in racism.  It was a risky thing to talk about, surely, in that it is a controversial topic and a particular hot button here in the south where I grew up.

One of the very thoughtful responses that I received was a rejection of that statement by Mr. Carter and a concern that when we make broad statements such as Mr. Carter did, we are in fact projecting our own biases onto other people.  I felt this was a worthy consideration.  Here is my response to that response:

“Of course, you raise a wonderful point.  There is no one answer to the dilemma of why we behave in hurtful ways as a collective, and to imply that because folks disagree with Obama they are racist is obviously over-simplifying and generalizing, which consistently seems to be a trap.

However, I do feel some truth in what Carter is saying.  Being a native southerner, I know the pervasiveness of racism (and what is called “reverse racism”, which is just racism in my book), and I DO feel it is a significant possibility that the furor over Obama that we see with SOME folks is (perhaps unconsciously) a deep outrage over the fact that he is African American. 

My point is that we, as human beings, frequently operate from places of unconsciousness.  What we are not conscious of in our own psyches still act as filters through which we perceive others, and those unconscious filters also cause us to behave in certain ways. 

The wound of racism is alive and well in some folks, perhaps especially so here in some places in the south…..but the wound can still be under the surface of their ability to know it, call it by its name, and therefore heal it so that it can be released as an issue in their lives. 

I tend to think of unconscious things in my own life as “ghost drivers” that sometimes hijack the train of my life…if I am not aware of them, I can’t predict when they will show up to cause a train wreck.  If I AM aware of them, they dissolve into the light of my consciousness.

If, by second guessing, you mean having inner reflection capabilities, I would say that there is a balance between being neurotic about doubting very single thing you say or feel or do…and a healthy self reflective process in which we thoughtfully examine our motives and intentions. 

My personal intention is to walk that thin line of balance; of course, I stumble either way of that line….but the line is my center point and I hope and pray its gravitational pull will not let me stray far from it!”

In further reflection (which is what I just love about these kinds of civil conversations-they really make me think), I think it is a very astute observation that we can easily point to racism (or any other unconscious thought pattern or behavior) in others and not yet be claiming it in ourselves. 

I have experienced being annoyed with the way someone is disorganized in something they do, and not “owned” my own lack of organization or focus.  And I have experienced being projected upon, in which someone else was asleep to their own darkness or insanity and projected that onto me.  Of course, in some instances, such as what Hitler projected onto Jews, not claiming one’s own darkness can lead to violent, hurtful or even fatal consequences.

We can also project onto folks that inspire us….we might know some fabulous woman who just seems so together, so intelligent, so savvy…and just marvel at her abilities.  But some of what we are most enamored with about her might actually be something inside of us that we are not claiming.

It is easier to see those traits that both annoy and delight us in others, both positive and negative, before seeing them in ourselves. 

This is, I feel, the nature of consciousness; waking up to ourselves and recognizing those things about ourselves that we project onto other folks…then, once we wake up to them, we can examine whether those things are a fit for our highest potential in our lives.

Licia at age 4

I’m undergoing a change of epic proportions…I’m happy.

After many years of not knowing who I was, and therefore looking outside of myself to get the answer to that question…..leading to choosing to be in community with others that were not a great match for me, I am finally finding myself very at home. 

I am seeing now that I was getting closer to being with people that were an accurate reflection of my authentic self.  Back in 2001, after 9-11, when I got a very clear message to stop hiding out as a healer, I attracted some very special people.  Just a handful, but notably important and unusual nonetheless.  Then we took off for the long journey into the hinterlands.

Now, in 2009, I am in the right place at the right time, and have let go of so much programmed thinking, thus uncovering my authentic self.  And, this bright shiny flower wants to PLAY.

This has led me to think a lot about the ways in which human beings become indoctrinated into being someone they are not. 

Reflecting on how I felt as a small child (which I remember as if it were yesterday-I hear that lots of people don’t remember their childhoods, and I find that sad), I knew who I was.  I was independent, capable, resilient, curious, and observant.  I remember feeling these things about myself.  I believe that I was feeling my soul, my essence at a core level.  It was only after I got reflections from people in power that those things were undesirable that I started to feel bad about myself, like who I was at the core was a bad person.  So I started to doubt, and that consistent undermining of my concept of self cost me a pretty penny.

What I’m discovering is that the more I have been willing to be open to self examination…even when painful or unflattering…the more able to recognize the constructs that I internalized due to my desire to please and to my desire to survive in the nuthouse.  And when I can recognize them, then I have the opportunity to choose whether they are still a fit for me, or whether they are holding me back. 

Sometimes, I will choose to alter a construct to be a better fit for me, rather than throw it out completely.  Such as the construct that being polite to all people is nice.  Not all people deserve my politeness, or my niceness.  I have discovered at the age of 44 that some people are assholes, and that’s just the way it is.  So I adapted this one to “be polite until shown the need to be otherwise.”   It has been hard, but when someone treats me with disrespect, I feel more ability to stand up for myself and recognize that they are the one with the problem, not me.  It feels like growing up to come to this awareness, and to consciously incorporate it into my life.

Over the years of this kind of self-examination and application, I am getting clearer and more frequent glimpses of who I was as a child.  I feel the natural joy and wonder that I felt then, more and more often.  I feel safer in the community I am choosing to be around, because they are the kind of people that appreciate me for who I really am. 

I have a strong intention, borne of longing, to live in authentic expression of my soul.  Perhaps this came out of feeling lost in the world for such a long time, searching for my real self and for permission to be her.  I am learning that the permission that I need to secure is my own…I am who I am, and coming into acceptance of who I am is freeing up so much energy and happiness in my days. 

Seriously, I knew that having resistance expended energy…I have been preaching that one since I went professional energy engineer in 2001.  And I have made little adjustments here and there in my own energy field, choosing to surrender to flow rather than to fight it. 

But this one…this big letting go of resistance to being who I am….it is freeing up so much of my chi that I can scarcely believe it.  I had no idea how much of my creative juices and my, well, just sheer JOY was wrapped up in me fighting myself.  And when I am fighting myself, you can bet that I am feeling defensive against the world, and projecting onto every face of reality that it is against me.  Which creates it’s own stew of conflict and unhappiness.

Do you ever feel like you are up against a wall inside of yourself?  Like you can’t get past that last obstacle, or through a ceiling you can’t see?  That’s what I experienced, and the wall was my own resistance to being who I am….out of fear that I would not be accepted by others.  Turns out it was my own acceptance that was truly needed. 

What’s the worst that can happen?  I found the worst that I could imagine was the unnamed fear that drove me to sell myself out was that I was afraid I would be annihilated.  Killed, physically, sure…like all those lifetimes of being burned, disemboweled, beheaded, drowned, murdered in front of my children, etc.  But there was a deeper fear …the annihilation of being rejected and unloved by the source of my life…my parents….. and then ultimately, God/dess.  That’s the fear worse than death.  To be rejected by that which made you, what could be worse than that?

My sense is that fear is the motivator for us to do something so dire as to choose to stop being who we are in favor of who someone else wants us to be.  I think it’s worth examining those fears, and facing them to see if we can deal with them.  Sometimes, it is about confronting what we are most afraid of, and accepting that it is something we must inevitably face, such as death.  Other times, I have found that the fear is bigger than the reality, and sometimes the fear is just plain untrue.

I wonder….if folks could remember what it felt like to be a child, before all the indoctrination set in, if they could get a sense of their authentic self.  Do you remember being a child?  Were you self reflective?  Do you remember feeling your life, what it felt like to be in the world?  Who were you?  What were you like?  Perhaps there are clues there about your own soul, and who you really are.

I fantasize about what kind of a world this would be if we all were in loving acceptance of ourselves.  Can you imagine if we were all at peace with who we are?  No inner torture, no self doubt, no cutting our own self off at the knees just before we succeed…wow, what would that feel like?  Would we feel the need to make war on each other?  To judge each other can call each other names?  To create whole institutions and organizations and religions that say the others are wrong?

And may I humbly suggest that who you really are is sooooooo perfect?  That it is who you came here to be?  That the world needs you just as you really are?  And that if you are pretending to be someone else, you are doing us all a disservice because what we really need and want is the REAL you? 

“Re: CRAZY-I think I allow myself to go into my darkness more than most other people do. I think true craziness happens when we try to keep ourselves up above the surface of our own darkness and eventually it claims us because it is PART of us and therefore must be claimed.

In my moments of doubt, I hear my parents’ critical voices calling me a liar, or that I’m making things up….and other extended family voices, who reject me or call me crazy in subtle, socially acceptable ways.

That fear is there because I DO feel crazy sometimes, and I define that as when I feel so much inside that things don’t make sense.

When I am NOT in doubt, in the grip of my ego, I know that sometimes things don’t make sense to our MINDS, but they make sense to our Soul and Spirit and Body and the larger Whole. So, when that uncomfortable feeling comes up, I try to trust that it is temporary and that there is some larger purpose going on that leads to wholeness and awareness. And self love.”

“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”~Dr.Seuss

I am of the mind that I am the one who has to live with myself, regardless of whatever anyone else thinks or has to say about it.  That I am the one who has to make discerning choices about my thoughts, my words, my actions, and my life.  Not because they are right for anyone else, but because they are right for me.

Naturally, as a result of my feeling this way, I have run into problems with other people.  I have wondered why….since I was a small child, I have had a clear notion that being curious was natural and that having room and permission to ponder reality was something that was my birthright.  I wondered why other people did not like it that I thought for myself.  Many years of therapy and life experience later, I am starting to understand that lots of people don’t like to think/feel for themselves, and therefore don’t feel comfortable when someone else does not play by the rules of conformity.

I know it takes a lot of courage to be a non-conformist.  To even contemplate change and self-improvement, to challenge one’s own thoughts and feelings, and to reflect and examine oneself requires honesty and a pretty good bit of spine.  I haven’t met a lot of folks who are willing to do this.  I know they exist because I have been blessed to meet a few of them, and the great works of authors and brilliant thinkers that I seek out to read and be inspired by exist.  But in everyday life, I don’t run across a lot of folks I can say are seekers to the extent that I am.

Sometimes I drive myself crazy….I have always been a question asker.  Why are things the way they are?  What makes the universe tick?  Who am I, and is who I am just what people say I am?  How did this (any) situation come into being?  Where do I come from, and where am I going?  As a result of asking LOTS of questions from as early as I can remember, I get a lot of answers.  But it is never enough.  There will always be another question.

Maybe the fact that I am a question asker and a challenger of status quo is annoying to others (it IS).  Maybe the fact that I choose to honor myself by allowing the questions to be asked, and the answers to come, and to trust those inner answers is also threatening to some (IT IS).  Tough.  

It is my belief and understanding that there are many roads to the end destination, whatever that may be.  It’s my understanding that all roads are valid, too.  I don’t believe that there is any one right way to do things, but I do believe that honoring oneself as a source of wisdom is an honorable and truthful way to go; I don’t believe in doing things or thinking things or believing things just because we are told to, or expected to.  To me, everything in all of existence is up for self-examination.

I have watched people from all degrees on the spectrum, whether “conservative” or “liberal”, “republican” or “democrat”, “capitalist” or “environmentalist”, “criminal” or “moral pillar of society”….I have personally seen all points of view be in danger of becoming hardened and lose personal meaning because people give their power away to the belief itself instead of feelign whether the belief continues to be true for them, moment to moment.

And I have watched people become so aligned in a belief that they think it should be the right belief for everybody.

As long as we judge each other, as long as we think the world would be a better place if only it would conform to our beliefs, the world will remain in a state of conflict.  There will never be peace of earth as long as we think that others are wrong for the way they think or believe.  I suppose that peace will only occur when there is room allowed for individuals to feel for themselves what is right for them and not be judged for it.

Dr. Suess was a wise man, in my humble estimation.  The people that love unconditionally, meaning they hold a space of non-judgment and acceptance for others, are the folks I want to hang out with in my life.  They are the ones that matter to me because they are taking the courageous path of listening inside to their inner compass to decide what feels right to them.  The people that don’t like it that I think for myself, do what feels right to ME, are the ones that don’t matter.  I don’t much value what they think.  If they would ask me NOT to be myself in order to make them feel safe or to take care of them emotionally, then they are not the type of person that I respect and look up to in the world.  

Anyone who would ask me to be different in order to make them feel safe is not only asking me to diminish myself, but they are not taking the courageous path to examine WHY they need me to change in order to feel safe.  What is happening inside of themselves that is creating this feeling and desire to be taken care of by another?  Why does their happiness depend on something outside of themselves?

I will not diminish myself to placate or please anyone; I choose to surround myself with people in my life who honor my need to be uniquely me.  All else, bless them, don’t matter.  

“Compliance causes a shocking realization:
To be ourselves causes us to be exiled by many others,
and yet, to comply with what others want causes us to be exiled from ourselves.“

-Clarissa Pinkola Estes