A journal entry from 10-30-09
The little boy I picked up in the labyrinth (https://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.
