“It is never too late to be what you might have been.” George Eliot
I have published, pulled, re-posted, pulled again and re-posted this entry since writing it in a fit of passion last night. Why? Because I worried…is this too much personal sharing? What will this do to my “professional image”? Is it too gritty, too human, too real? Is it “spiritual” enough?
I am a deeply spiritual person…in fact, a well known famous channel (Veronica of Eloheim fame) told me last year in a channeled session that I am the most Source-like person she has ever come across. I get it so deeply how connected we all are, how beautiful human existence and this world are, how all of this is Spirit. And yet, I have wondered if my business can only take so much spirituality of the human mess…that if I want to succeed in my work, I need to tone it down, or be the expert, keep my image pristine of “someone who has it all together”. To not speak too much of the personal, arduous, gritting my teeth, hanging on by my fingernails journey I have made over 20+ years to be who I am today.
Does anyone really have it all together? Really? No matter how experienced or how much expertise we have in certain areas of our lives, aren’t there areas where we don’t have it all together and therefore need assistance from others who have walked that path (or at least are a few steps ahead of us)?
And in my case, the expertise I offer is the kind that you want when you are going through utter transformation. I have walked through the valley of the shadow of death, and emerged the other side. I have pulled myself up from the broken, burned, scattered ashes and fought my way back from wanting to give up and die. I have healed, and healed, and healed some more, and I imagine I will continue to heal even more deeply and profoundly the rest of my life as I claim and recognize and see the Light that I came to be. I have made a beautiful life that I never thought possible given what I came from. And I made a map. I have emerged from the darkness that was laid upon me, and that I bought into. Isn’t that the kind of person you want holding your hand when you are quaking in your boots because the universe has just laid your life to waste? Isn’t this the kind of person you want to remind you of your Light when you have forgotten?
If I share my wounds, will you feel impelled to share yours? As I heal my darkness, will you want me to help you heal yours? As I am real and share my human-ness with you, will you share yours with me and the rest of the world? And will this make us better people?
In the end, there is no separation. Who I am as a person cannot be separated from who I am as a professional. Especially in my line of work, the conscious integration of spirit into human existence, the union of the feminine and masculine. By sharing who I am, I believe I will draw those to me who are ready to work on their wounds and want an expert guide.
Here is the post in question:
This post qualifies for the “mistaking writing as therapy” category. If that bugs you, do please move on.
Here we go.
I’ve been working so hard lately with the Divine Masculine and my inner masculine, which was informed by relationship with my father and the father of patriarchy. What does father mean? What does it mean if you feel fucked by your father? What is “Father”, really? How can I know if my father won’t show up?
My father is a good person, I think, if not lacking courage. He taught me more about being a good person than my mother did. Even though. Even though he did wrong things to me.
I forgave him years ago for the sexual abuse. I called him in 1998 after 9 years of healing and recovery work, of yelling at him in therapy rooms, of kicking and punching and screaming at him in group therapy sessions, where the other women held the pillows for me to rage against and shrunk back in terror from my murderous physical strength.
When I called him, he told me I had more courage than he did. This was true; I felt like a son who had finally been acknowledged by his dad. Except I was his daughter. It felt good and sad at the same time that he acknowledged this truth. I faced him, alone, on the mountain, and told him what I remembered. He took responsibility, but only partly. He said he was sorry, but he did not do anything to change. And now we have a fresh problem.
He still won’t show up for me.
Where are you, Dad? I want my father…I need my father. Maybe not the father that you are, but I do need one. I have been working with Great Father, the big one, the idealized one, the Divine Masculine one, to teach me about what masculine energy is. But the human me, the little girl in me, still wants my Dad.
You have been gutless, Dad. You are right that I am more courageous than you. Your daughter, the fierce warrior of light. I came through the trial that you and your wife, my mother, set up for me, came through with flying colors. But you…you have let your aversion of the truth rule you. You have let some wonderful people (me, my children, your grandchildren) slip through your fingers because you are afraid. You are missing out. I call you out. Step UP.
You are still on this earth, Dad…you still have the option to step up, to have some cajones. It’s not too late. You still have the chance to do what’s right. It would mean so much to me if you did.
