"But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ." – The Little Prince
We’re all a little yin and yang. Light and dark. Conscious and unconscious. Masculine and feminine. Sun and moon. Found and waiting to be discovered. Known and unknown.
Good and bad? That one, I don’t so much agree with. We ALL have the capacity, in our forgetfulness, fear, and greed, to act poorly and with hate. But I believe we are all good inside. If only the light could shine upon the shadows.
To light up our own shadows, to remember who we are. Because I am not who you think I am. You are not who I think you are.
I have been a product of my programming. Age 0-7, we are in a hypnotic state, simply absorbing the information around us. The training continues after, plus the rebellion of the programming, which is often still a byproduct of the messages learned and rarely pure of heart.
Yet we need not disown our programmed parts, our human self. We simply must remember the light and dark of who we are. Our divine self and human self becoming one. An embrace. Being moved by the energy that which we are, allowing the human self to actualize the love in physical form. Beauty made manifest.
What if you’re already living the life of your dreams? What if you already have all that your heart desires? What if you’re in the experience that your soul wants for you? What if you’ve just been to blind- too judgmental of yourself, too jealous of others, and too busy comparing yourself to everyone else’s life to see it?
Maybe we’re also just too programmed in wanting- not just in material goods, but epic experiences, and personal achievements as measures of self-worth.
It’s like we’re desperately dehydrated and we’re all walking miles and miles for water when it’s always been right there, right under our feet.*
The other day I was talking to my twin sister about joy and Joseph’s Campbell quote “Follow your bliss.” I told her I didn’t know how, that I didn’t know what the line meant. “I mean, I really just care about Pacer, you and Sage, and playing in the mountains.” “But that’s why you’re here, in Salida, with all of us”, my sister said. I complained further, “I haven’t been able to play in the mountains like I want to for years…” I was going to continue about financial stuff, but the annual “Hooligan Race” down the Arkansas River was finally about to start. Which was perfect, because I realized I didn’t really have anything good to say. She was right. I don’t have a whole lot of extra cash, but I have enough to pay for rent and food, enough time for the experiences I want to have outside and with family, my 2 favorite people 10 minutes away and the best dog ever, all of us in a quirky little mountain town. Everything else is fluff, or an excuse as to why I can’t be truly happy now, with the main fluff being the thoughts in my head on what I need to do, have, or achieve to be worthy of joy, love, and contentment (re: inner peace).
I know I’m not the only one with this old programming, believing in the physical when it’s love, beauty, and connection that we all really want, and most of us already have. You’ve seen It’s a Wonderful Life too, right? If we want, if we’re willing to let go of the old stories, we could be happy at this very moment.
*On a podcast, I fumbled on this story, retelling an event in Scott Harrison’s book Thirst: A Story of Redemption, Compassion, and a Mission to Bring Clean Water to the World where an older woman a village in which a well had just been dug couldn’t be happy, saying something like “You mean it was there all along?” and thinking of her years of suffering walking to get water. I too, am often like this woman. I know I could be joyful at any moment but often prefer to hold on to my past, perhaps as a way to give my suffering meaning.
Last year, on two different podcasts, I stated that the masculine* witnessing and being with the pain of the feminine had the potential to heal the world.
*While gender stereotypes play this out in a way that is more evident in the world, I’m specifically talking about energies, not physical bodies. My own inner masculine energies have at times been quite toxic and harmful. While I tend to experience this internally, the world always shows me what I need to heal with external people and events.
What I realize now is that it was only part one. Part two is the feminine forgiving the masculine for all the ways he tried to control, tame, or kill her wild spirit. Perhaps more easily stated, it is us forgiving the parts of ourselves- the interval voices that criticized us, told us what to do, who to be, and how to act, and hid or attempted to annihilate our love after mistaking it for weakness- because those parts were only scared. Scared of what? Being unworthy of unconditional love. But that is simply the myth of the ego.
Part two is forgiving the parts of ourselves that we least want to see (but might also like). (For me, it’s my inner narcissist**, the part of me that wants to be special “a special snowflake”, or what the AA program calls the desire to be “terminally unique”. I’m embarrassed by this part, I don’t like it, it’s beat me up and abused me, and…I’m afraid of losing it. Who am I without it? And no one, no part, is more scared than the narcissist. “If I am not special, no one will love me and I will cease to exist”is the main fear of this shadow part. Its other half is often the “never enough” part. Can I love this part? Can we love this part of ourselves?)
The free spirit of the feminine being gently guided and held by the masculine is the integration of both energies, where two become one, and separation ceases to exist.
**A word on narcissism. Therapeutically, I don’t believe it is overused and cringe when I hear people say that it is, as it often denies the experience of people who have been in relationships (whether romantically, the child of, etc) with people diagnosable narcissistic. That is, when someone doesn’t simply have a narcissistic part but who’s identity is their narcissistic part and becomes the role they play in the world. So, all or almost all of us have a narcissistic part, but not all of us our narcissistic. And, once we admit that, the narcissistic identity projected in the world will most likely lose its power.
***In-between my multiple edits, I was reading “Over the Top: A Raw Journey to Self Love” by Jonathan Van Nest, and read this line, ” Being normal is being completely unique, because nobody is the same.” (I love paradox)
I am a protector of innocence. A warrior of Love. A guardian of beauty. A defender of Truth.
You’ll never see me touch a gun, but I will slay with my heart. My ability to see you through your fear, the only sword I need. My armor, the denial of hate.
I stand for what man tried to take from me, came close but failed. I was simply poisoned, and entered a deep slumber, awakened by my own sweet kiss.
I refuse to go to war, but I’ll throw my body over a child, protecting what is real from your lies. Kill me first, and as my body fades, you’ll remember too: Only love exists.
I am a protector of the innocent.
****I wrote this poem shortly after an experience I had where I did not defend myself, my own innocence and love. I played into the “bro culture” pretending I was being the “fancy” one for requiring vegan food. This, at least, is a step above my high school self trying to fit in. Now, these weren’t bad guys whatsoever…I simply, unconsciously, stepped into a role that I needed to see and ask myself “Where do I not protect my own heart?”
This also got me thinking about what I find sexiest in a man. Brute force, acting cool, big muscles, and guns…definitely do not. But I am highly attracted to men who are willing to use their intellect to protect their heart and the hearts of others, to see and feel their own innocence and be guardians of it, the divine masculine standing alongside the divine feminine (energies that are inside all of us).
The hardest part about letting go… …is actually letting go.
It’s not waiting for someone or something to take my thoughts and low self-esteem away from me, saying “I’m ready! Take this [shitty thought and sadness] from me!”
Instead, it is an active choice.
To say “I don’t think like that anymore, that is not how this me feels”. It’s not being judgmental towards that old version of myself. It is having compassion for her, knowing that she was doing the best she could. But it is letting go of my attachment to her, her thoughts, her beliefs about herself, her projections, her old stories, and her weighty emotions.
And, it is in letting go, that I break free. I let go of gravity, and free fall deep into the unknown. I expect a crash. But instead, I fly.
…The unconditional, divine, free type of love we were all born with but thought we lost when our own emotions, essence, and unique gifts went unseen or uncared for. Yet it was never lost. Love can only ever be blocked from entering, but is always there, waiting for you to open yourself back up to it.
What blocks it? Often the lower mind. Our beliefs about our unworthiness and badness. The part of us that made up stories to explain why others didn’t always show us love, when we were shunned for being emotional, or simply told we were born with original sin (crazy, I know). If anything is unreal, it is those stories. Out of fear, we used our miraculous imaginations to make up nightmares rather than create dreams of Love.
Dogs (cats, cows, and all animals) can be our guides back home to Love. Their own lack of ego, their innocence, and fluffiness have the ability to break down our own barriers to Love. And the crack they put in our armor can be the gateway to allowing even more Love in, be it from other humans, our angels, our Higher Selves, and/or goD.
So the question never is “why does no one love me?” and the statement never is “I don’t like myself.” but instead “how am I blocking Love?” when that is what you are.
If we were enough, the subconscious belief is that we would always be loved (our parents wouldn’t have denied OR GIVEN love for a REASON, but simply because we are lovable. The “too much” wound often comes from not being allowed, or even being shunned, for being emotional as children. What a child makes up from this is that they are not liked/or loved when they are emotional, which is synonymous with being human, and so they learn to close off this essential part of themselves to be accepted.
Personally, I didn’t quite see this until a painful situation and feeling safe enough to be a little emotional. And emotions, especially emotions that seem out of place, often lead to our subconscious wounding. The other key for me was having my subconscious reflected back to me (Which is part of the reason why our emotions are not meant to be felt in isolation. When we can share our emotional selves with a therapist and/or someone who cares about us, the stories our mind creates lose their power.). After telling ~3 trust people with “clean mirrors” (they weren’t going to mirror their own wounds back to me), kindly saying something like “It sounds like you really believe that your emotions/pain/”darkness” is too much for someone else to love you?” or gentle negations. Which was enough for me to finally see “Oh, maybe that is just a belief that I have kept thinking since childhood. Maybe it’s not true.”
While I can’t say this instantly broke the armor around my heart, it did put a crack in it. And ironically, the break in the armor has led to more bravery in sharing my emotions and myself with others, giving Love a chance.
(If you’re wanting to work through your subconscious wounds (re:deep healing), I highly recommend working with a therapist, or at least a good friend, because it’s hard to see ourselves “from the inside”. Or, if that is not your path, reflective journaling is an amazing tool, too.)
The bond between a dog and her girl is unconditional love, both ways, yet the girl (human) has often been conditioned to fear love and block its reception from other humans. Dogs are a tangible representation and pathway towards higher love for those of use who have trust and love wounds. A dog is the softness that allows the hardened to let love in.
* I say “dog” throughout this post, but I really mean all animals.
Those of us with a “not enough” wound may feel unsafe to receive love, because they feel unworthy of it.
The unconscious may go something like:
“If I was enough, they (my parents, caregivers, etc) would love me and be happy. They can’t love me until I have proved that I am enough.”
Personally, this belief was so buried in me that, despite all the work I’ve done, it took another painful parting of ways and the consolation of another guy I once loved, who can annoying read my wounds better than I can, and also hold space in friendship form. That, driving through Arches National Park while listening to a Spotify “healing + cleansing frequencies” playlist, and attempting to be simply curious about my “never enough” part without trying go change it or get rid of it. Just “curiosity and compassion”, as I tell my clients, yet don’t practice nearly enough myself.
This type of belief won’t be accessible through the logical mind. The subconscious mind was developed in childhood, where event’s and parent’s behavior and emotions were extensions of the self (egocentric). This is how the innocent make sense of trying to understand any act out of accordance with love.
Because dogs* are not human- we know they are non-judgers- it’s easier for most people who otherwise feel undeserving or unworthy of love to receive it from them (or, really, any animal).
From there, we must take the lesson from our beloved dog further. We must understand that our minds created a largely distorted reality based on fear, while dogs know the sacred truth. The love we received from a dog must be slowly extended in the form of trust. First, to trust in the dog’s wisdom and knowing that we are deserving of love. Second, to have the bravery to allow another human to love us. This can be slow. Love and trust are patient for those who have been wounded. And yet, even if the trust with one person falls through, we can go back to the first trust, or dog commandement: You are worthy of Love.
I woke up from a dream, or perhaps nightmare is the more accurate word, slightly after 12 am on May 4th.
I was in a war zone. The building we were in was no longer a building, the grey bricks only a few feet high. Sparks, debris, and shrapnel flew freely in.
My mother tried to protect me. She laid her body over mine, a small and slender child. I knew we weren’t safe. That her body, hugging mine, would simply get hit first. It was likely that we would both die. Now or later, I wasn’t sure. At the same time, I felt her love inside the shelter of her body over mine. I felt her desperation, trying to protect her daughter, me. I could tell she knew it was probably hopeless too, but she held onto that sliver of hope. And somehow in that, in her love, I felt safe.
Soldiers walked in over the bricks and through the smoke. And, while I know this is simply how my brain put this together and most likely not how it actually works, they shot at cannons to make them fire off into the distance. They didn’t look at us. Their faces remained ambivalent and frozen. I couldn’t tell if they were trying to protect us, kill us, or just didn’t care. I didn’t know whose side they were on. But that’s kind of how protecter parts work…
*While I’ll use Internal Family Systems language, archetype, identities, etc. can often be interchanged.
It’s kind of hard to see what they’re protecting. Another protector, another defense mechanism, the cynic protecting the anger, the ego, or the exile, the inner child within? I think some, at least the soldiers in my head, just forget. They forget what side they’re on and they just do the job they’ve been programmed to do.
In therapy, we say there are no bad parts. They’ve all learned how to do their job to protect an innocent part when there was no caregiver to protect them or help them feel and experience their emotions, to help the child feel loved even though they were sad, angry, or simply in pain. Even the addictions, even the suicidal thoughts… they’re just trying to protect us from more pain, trying to. make us feel better when we don’t know any other way. Every shadow side has a light side. The inner critic, a cheerleader. The judge, a compassionate leader. On the spiritual side, some teachers and texts simply teach to notice but not attach to the (unhealthy) ego and all its voices of fear. We might not be able to stop the thoughts, but we don’t have to give them our energy (power). When we practice this long enough, the voices of shame, guilt, unworthiness, and hate get quieter, giving us a chance to notice the subtle but ever-present voice of Love.
And so, to further our dream interpretation, I’ll provide a framework. I was taught dream interpretation as a graduate student at Naropa University by Katie Asmus, one of the leaders in the field of wilderness therapy and owner of the Somatic Nature Therapy Institute. She taught me and my cohort that in dreams, a part of us is represented in each person, animal, or even object that stands out. In this view, dreams are symbolic, offering us views into parts of ourselves that are often subconscious in everyday life. I also believe that in dreams, especially nightmares, our psyches are actually helping us play out and process fears so we don’t have to in waking hours. I will add that, even though it’s often hard for me to see, I’ve heard from multiple people that I am often guarded and protective. I rarely see how my fears play out (the voice of it can sound very rational) until after everything (ie, a relationship) has been destroyed.
During the dream, I felt most of my presence in the little girl. My innocence, my unbridled love and joy for the world and other people, was being threatened. And yet…
Stepping into the role of mother, I feel (moving into first person here) a deep, fierce love for the child curled under me. Yet I am also human, so I try to regulate my nervous system, hoping my child doesn’t feel my fear. I know she is a sensitive child, so even if she feels my fear, let her know that she is loved… A sacrificial love, willing to do anything to keep the innocent child alive. But even if we both die, she must know that she is loved. And that will be all that matters.
The soldiers I have, in part, already examined. Yet stepping into their shoes, I feel lifeless. I’m just doing what I’m told, having forgotten what I’m fighting for. I gently sense the presence of the mother and little girl, but I try not to see them. It might make me crack. So I fire bombs. Bombs at other men, who are most likely just like me. I am hopeless. I don’t care if I get hit anymore or die in this war. I’m tired. I just want the war to end.
The cannons and bombs, perhaps, represent my anger. The anger that I actually rarely feel, besides the shame and self-loathing I feel for myself. Maybe I should let it out a little more. Maybe I should defend the little girl. She doesn’t deserve to live in a gray world full of shadows. Blowing things up might not be the answer, but fighting for Love? I’m not sure exactly what that means. How do you fight for Love with Love? Without killing and without dying? But maybe, maybe there is a way…
Ah, I won’t let the darkness of the mind kill the light within.I will protect her from the voices of fear and attack thoughts in her head.This is the Mother’s role.
The almost non-existent building… God, I hope this is my mind. My ego. The structure I’ve created around myself is crumbling. It’s never really protected me anyway. It’s never kept the fear or sadness out. It’s really only made me hate myself and be scared of the world I walk in, the world I’ve made. The walls were always a false sense of protection anyway.
Now that I look back…
The mother and daughter…the fierce loving protector and the innocent child. They are covered in dust and ash. Yet they are otherwise left untouched. But maybe it doesn’t matter, because that little girl knew she was loved. And love is the ultimate protection. She rises.
“When you have a mind that is disciplined, your soul can finally be free.“, a note scratched in my copy of A Course in Miracles.
I have had to detach from the word “discipline”, clear from it my past understanding of it, and reclaim it with new and proper meaning.
Before doing the above exercise for myself, I attached “discipline” with past memories and connotations. It was the strict rule of Catholic school, plaid skirts or weirdly pleated khakis, control, rulers, and a form of punishment. It meant staying inside the lines, not being too weird or too different, and staying boxed in a set of beliefs. It was me trying harder and harder to be better, to improve more, yet staying stuck. I came to associate “discipline” with the energy of “toxic masculinity. Yet every shadow side has a like side, and the word kept coming up that seemed helpful or positive. It seems contradictory to my beliefs to tear down the videos or memes where I saw the word, so it was of my choosing to explore it more.
I finally got it when I was listening to Marianne Williamson give a talk on A Course in Miracles (a book that I’ve been reading for several months). All I remember her saying was “a disciplined mind”, and I understood. My mind is often out of control. It can’t decide what part of me to listen to, often chooses darkness, and believes the voices that tell me how I screwed things up or I’m not enough. My mind is quite undisciplined. And really, that’s part of our culture. We’re taught to be distracted and told there’s nothing that can be done save for a pill if one’s case is severe enough.
We’re also taught that choosing to think positively is “Pollyanna” or dismissive of a mental health diagnosis. Actually, to be blatantly controversial: Joy is a choice. Freedom is a choice. Peace is a choice.
I say this because anything else take away a person’s agency, the control they do have of their life. Lack of agency leads to greater depression and anxiety. I want my clients, I want myself, to reclaim our power. (While it’s absurd to me, we still do this to heart patients too…doctors forget to tell their patients that they can change their diet, exercise habits, and stress levels to improve heart health, and instead prescribe drugs with hefty side effects). Now that choice may be, “I want to feel better”, “I’ll try again tomorrow”, or “I’ll go for a walk”, but it is still a choice over darkness.
With that, I will acknowledge, “easier said than done.” For some of us, the grip of our fears, protector parts, egos, anxiety, depression, thoughts, beliefs, etc (whatever you want to call it) seem intertwined with our very being. This is not true, but the feeling sure feels true. That is why, with both myself and clients, I first just get curious about parts/identities and work with them to see if I can loosen the grip of fear. Why is it there? What is the part protecting? What safety needs to occur for suppressed emotions to be seen and felt?
To circle back, this all comes to getting to choose what you want to believe. What wolf to feed? Love or fear?
While true free will is in this choice, what we do know is this: A mind disciplined in Love will set the soul free.
(This is a very short blog on what I could be a very big topic. Actually, I’ve had a copy of an essay “Mind Control: Becoming a Jedi” sitting in my drafts for months. Perhaps I’ll finish it in the coming months.)
My dad worked as an electrical engineer at the same place for nearly 50 years. Actually, at 71, he still works part time at that company. The job definitely plays well to his analytical brain, but I would never call being an engineer his purpose.
His family titles probably give more insight into his purpose. He’s known as the “toy guy” and the “car guy.” He’s always got toys for the little ones in the family…and toys for himself. He probably has well over 1,000 Matchbox cars in his collection, plus minions and disney characters throughout his house. He’s also the guy everyone calls…whether it me, my cousins, or his brother and sisters and in-laws…for car help. It might be advice on what needs to be fixed, how to get it fixed cheaper, him fixing it, or he’ll lend you a car for as long as you need it. Actually, multiple family members have driven a car first owned by my dad. My dad is the guy who wanted to go to Harry Potter world for his 62nd birthday, and we’re already planning on Disney World/Galaxy’s Edge trip after he turns 72. He’s the dad who still reminds me and Sandi to remember our “happy thoughts” and sends us “unbirthday cards.” My dad has been through a lot of loss in his life, and the joy he still finds is my inspiration as I try to rise above my own darkness.
Part of his purpose comes through his own wounds. While he loves re-telling stories of gathering a group of friends for a baseball game, my dad had a paper route before he was double-digits and quickly became a caretaker for his younger siblings when his own dad had a stroke and later passed away.
His childlike wonder reignites the flame of those who have forgotten theirs. He is a protector that keeps his family safe. He is a Wizard among those who have forgotten their magic. That is his purpose.
Thinking of my dad’s purpose has helped me discover my own.
I might still say that “I help people remember who they are”, or ” I help people become free”, but more simply, I help people feel safe to express their emotions, be who they are, and feel loved. Sure, I did pick a career where I can do that for a living (and it certainly blossomed from my own wounds) but what I have chosen to do really doesn’t matter because I am the embodiment of my own purpose.
A Dog and Her Girl 