"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
There is beauty everywhere. Everywhere. Is your brain trained to see it?
Many of us just aren’t. For some of us, our brains, out of programming and protection, are trained to look (and think) for the bad or possible dangers, dangers that are no longer based on our physical survival but ego survival.
Let’s change that. Let’s rewrite our brains to see the beauty of life.
(Yes, this is a little selfish because I really need the support in helping to change my brain too as I’m just as good as anyone at starting and stopping a gratitude practice. Friend accountability really helps!)
This post is partially inspired by a Mel Robbins podcast (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Of8ddNuRAtE) on negative thinking and the reticular activating system, which acts a filter for the brain and what it allows into your consciousness based on what you repeatedly choose to focus on. It’s also inspired by my friend Travis Macy, who texted me before a hike “Let’s start with a YAY by sharing celebrations.” And of course, this is inspired by my deceased older sister, who passed on the importance of the word “YAY!”.
The great YAY! challenge: If you wish to do this with me, or your own close group of friends, share with me your daily YAY! either through DM or text. Your daily YAY! is your gratitude, the beauty you chose to focus on, an awe inspiring moment, or something that made you smile. It can be really simple, like waking up with your dog cuddling next to you or a nice little chat with the grocery store cashier. Or, you can do what Mel Robbins suggests, and find hearts in nature/daily life, which is a way the Universe is showing its love to you and “peace is possible”, you just have to train your brain to recognize it. (My thing is feathers, which is a sign for me from angels, guides, and passed loved ones that I’m not alone, always supported, and deeply loved.).
“Life is beautiful…even when it’s not.” -Amanda Rose Nypaver
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.
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 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.)
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.
I have been on the search for freedom for nearly my whole life, intensely for the past two years, with a balanced measure of both dedication and desperation.
Yet I live in a privileged country, am of white ethnicity ,pretty enough, able-bodied, and grew up solidly middle class. I’ve also been somewhat rebellious in conforming to societal norms.
So why did I feel so trapped, like a bird in a cage? Or like the elk I saw with a fishing net trapped in his antlers? Or the cows I see trapped behind wired fences that surely aren’t there for their safety?
Last summer, I read an Instagram post that said “You can’t find freedom in the same place twice*.” I simultaneously felt a resonance with the message and with an internal “fuck.” Again I had been going to the mountains to find freedom and to my dog for happiness, with a painful Achilles heel that said “You can’t keep going to what’s outside of you to experience what’s within.” The gateways to the experiences you want to have are not the experience themselves. I had caged myself in the wide open, and trapped the being I love the most. Pacer is meant to be my teacher and the Love I am guardian of, not a need to fill what I feel I lack.
But of course, when going on any inner journey with a destination “in mind” (freedom), contrast is usually first experienced. I had to come face to face with all the things that held me down, that kept me from flying: my thoughts, my past, all my old beliefs that cause anxiety, depression, grief, and deep fear. The scariest thing about going into those depths is feeling the impossibility of getting out. It wasn’t long ago that I tearfully told a friend, “I feel so trapped.” I write about this so openly and vulnerably now because I believe this is the dark side of the human experience.
While this part of my journey isn’t quite over, I sense perhaps a shift. A shift in perception. A slight release. A willingness to see and choose differently. It’s taken journaling, meditation, shadow work, allowing life to reveal to me what’s unconscious, tracking my emotions, parts work, friends, books (rec: A Course in Miracles) an almost constant stream of positive messages through podcasts and channelers, and holding on to the belief that “only love is real.” I look forward to recounting my journey as hopefully a guide for others to become (remember) free too.
Life is a paradox. Relationships are no exception to this rule. In fact, relationships are probably the “exception that proves the rule.” Which means, for me, the more I have accepted that I am the problem in relationships, the more clarity I have gained in realizing I wasn’t the problem. I was attracting the wrong people. That I was, actually, in relationships with partners who couldn’t meet my wants or treat me in the ways I deserved to be treated.
If you haven’t read my first relationship post yet, Relationships: The Problem is Me, I highly recommend starting there, because both these things, that I both was and wasn’t the problem, are absolutely true. I had to admit how I protected myself from love, admit to my own fear-based behaviors, examine my belief systems around relationships, and how I related to myself, before being ready to receive love..
The catch is, if you are coming from a place of emotional immaturity* (from a therapeutic view) or low vibration (spiritual perspective), it’s almost impossible to attract the love and the relationship you want. It’s more likely that you will be provided with a mirror, or someone who reflects back to you all your wounds…especially if you are someone who came to this planet to self-actualize (or rather, heal all wounds to become the truest version of one’s self). Personally, I wasn’t attracting (with a few exceptions) men who could mirror love back to me but instead men who mirrored back my fears, doubts, and demons in my head.
*Just like I don’t use ignorance with a negative connotation, neither do I use the word “immature”. Actually, the more we admit these things, sometimes the smarter we are. Emotional immaturity really just means someone is still learning how to interpret and metabolize their emotions in order to gain a greater sense of peace. What really matters with ignorance and immaturity is that one is willing to grow.
Another way to say this is that intimate* (in-to-me-you-see) relationships will reflect back to you exactly how you see yourself, which may be completely unconscious.
*A friend recently pointed out to me that other relationships, be it friendships or mentorships, reveal back to us how amazing and lovable we truly are.
To be completely apparent with you, the lovely reader, it’s pretty sad how many guys have apologized to me for treating me poorly, including one that maybe didn’t need to and 2 or 3 others that should have. It’s probably obvious from your kind, outside perspective that I shouldn’t have been treated poorly, but it does reveal my inner world. No one has ever been more critical, judgmental, punishing, abusive, conditional, or dismissing of me than me. At least in my recent past.
Another paradox worth noting here: Not all attraction means you should be with someone.
Obi-Wan and his wife helped me with this one, so I won’t take credit, but I wanted to share it because this is something we should have all learned in high school. We can be attracted to various and many people throughout our lives. Some will probably become friends. We may find others appealing to look at. Others we may come into contact with for creative collaborations or support in healing. (This one may obviously have been one of my challenges: as a psychosoul therapist and healer, I can be attracted to the wounded people). Sometimes it’s because there is some type of soul contract we have with a person in this lifetime. (Ooops. I’ve often gotten stuck here too. I have often overextended the timeline on those energy attractions.). Most forms of attraction do not mean that you’ve met someone you should have sex with or would even want to build a relationship with. In short, when you feel attraction towards someone, it is worth exploring what that attraction means. If there is potential for a relationship, it is then worth exploring shared values and dreams in life.
Half the time it was unconscious of what I was attracting, I swear. There was little to no separation between ME and the voices of the protector parts* in my head. Hence why I dated not an overt narcissist, but a covert narcissist. He didn’t treat me well, but he showed me myself. Or rather, my ego self, my fear-based sense of worth. He showed me how easily I could settle for less than what I deserved because this is what I believed that I deserved. “This part of my life is good, so I can take this part not being good.” My excuses were that I didn’t have anywhere else to go and because I really was “content enough.” It’s not that I ignored my inner world. This information just hadn’t been consciously available to me at the time. I needed life to show it to me, plus a few more years of deep underworld journeying and a complete unravelling of my ego-self to see it clearly.
*A reference to IFS therapy.
Perhaps the more challenging “situationship” for me was with the guy I really loved. Or, I thought I was in love with, but more likely was an “infatuation” to use Elizabeth Gilbert’s words in “Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage” ( a great resource for talking any young person out of marriage). To be honest, I had known much earlier that he was my “David”. I always knew he was emotionally, mentally, and physically unavailable. He showed this to me time and time again. But I wanted him to love me so I could feel like I was worth loving.
My attraction was actually desperation.
This allowed my mind to create quite a story in my head that would haunt me for months following.*
*See below for a podcast on how we create untrue stories in our head.
It really wasn’t until a few months ago, until the end of the December’s Mercury Retrograde that beautifully closed out the year and the end of an era, that I could see how poorly he treated me. But again, it hadn’t been clear to me early on. I honestly don’t think he saw it (he was both good of heart and completely aloof). More honestly, I talked myself out of seeing it over and over and over. Because I didn’t love or trust myself enough to walk fully away and close the door.
So when he messaged, in the early hours of the new year “I’m glad I could be a beacon.”, I didn’t even bother to reply and correct him that he was mistaken, that the role he had actually played was that of the angel of death.
Perhaps they are the same, anyway.
In those final conversations, I was able to stay aware of my anxious reactions, even though I was still very much in the emotion.
I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to stay in that energy field anymore. So I quit it. I finally disliked my behavior so much, I quit, just like most quitting happens. Still, quitting is so, so hard for me. It feels like failure. No one told me it would also be freeing. Free to move out of a cycle and accept, at least the possibility, that I was worth more. Freeing to admit that, no, I don’t think it’s okay to openly flirt with someone and then not pursue further contact with them. Freeing to agree with myself that it’s okay to ask for my personal love languages to be given once in a while and not just accept how another person wants to show me theirs. (thank you, Queer Eye, Season 8, episode 1, for highlighting this). Ah, and there it is…
It’s okay for me to have wants.
It’s okay for me to want clear and loving communication. It’s okay for me to respectfully communicate my emotions without the fear of triggering another person and then needing to care for them. It’s okay that sometimes, when I’m hurting, I want to be held. It’s okay for me to want to spend time with someone, to have some safety in plans. It’s okay for me to want someone to want to adventure with me. It’s okay for me to ask to be seen. It’s okay to want a definitive relationship status, not for control, but for a comfortable container of expression. It’s okay, as my sister told me years ago, to want someone who chooses me, too.
For some of you, this might seem simple. For others, you’re probably with me, horrified at the thought of asking anything of anyone. All of these things, growing up, just weren’t okay. I would either be burdening someone with my emotions if I dared share them, told to toughen up, and was given countless examples on how to suppress feelings. It’s also not very Catholic to ask for more.
To be thought of as needy by anyone, would mean I was too much, the paradoxical partner of not enough, yet equally as fearsome. It’s a thin tight rope to walk.* I was bound to fall off. And thank goodness I did.
*This theme was perhaps best represented in The Barbie Movie.
When you’re alone in the dark, the only option is to choose yourself. To take your own hand and say “I love you.” You deserve to have your needs and wants met. And because I’ve always got you, we have the freedom to walk away from anyone and anything that is less than what we deserve.”
This is what heals the abandonment wound. You, Higher Self, showing up for your Inner Child the way your caregivers just couldn’t. This is the safety that confounded me for so long in my continuing education as a therapist. It’s not the promise that life will be smooth and we will never get hurt. It’s that we can always feel free to be our true, authentic selves and even if others don’t like us for it, we’ll always have our own back.
It is in healing this wound that moves empaths out of the shadows and into the light. Instead of getting stuck in seeing others’ potential and staying with them until they get there (which may never happen), we let go trying to change what is and simply step into our own potential. We walk in the energy and love we believe in.
Choosing oneself, myself, means knowing that while I need to validate and accept myself first and foremost, I can, at the same time absolutely know I deserve to be treated well. Confidence, then, is being able to walk away from things and people who devalue my worth and move toward the love attracted by self-love.
The more we love ourselves, the more room we have to love another, and the more we can allow love in. Love attracts love, yet when you are in love yourself, the less you need love from the outside. Which is why true partnership becomes a co-creative act of higher expression.
*****
Other notes and helpful resources:
-In 2023, while I was not given a committed relationship (for good reason, I was gifted with another reflection), I was blessed with “3 wise men ”, all married, all a little bit older and wiser than me. While only my interactions with Obi-Wan were frequent, all of them accepted me freely not for who I appeared to be but who I was. They presented me with the gold, frankincense, and myrrh* of time, curiosity, and positive-regard, the gifts of healing.
-Being a therapist has actually shown me how expansive love is. I truly love all of my clients. They are all special to me and hold space in my heart. There is never less room for a new client. My heart just seems to grow with each new person.
*No, I am not comparing myself to Jesus. I am, however, relating us all to Light and the gifts we all deserve that can help us return back home to it.
-Highly Recommended Book: Calling in “The One”, by Katherine Woodward Thomas. (This book contains one of the most in-depth personal workbooks that I’ve found whether you want a partner or simply want to heal your old wounds.)
To be honest, I don’t really get visions, and I am historically, frustratingly, terrible at envisioning anything I can not see (which I will perhaps call a limiting thought). Any time Obi-Wan leads me through a guided Reiki meditation, I’m with him through the field and down the path until he says something like “then follow the light”… … Which, I guess, is supposed to take me somewhere, but all I see is black.
*I wonder if this is because, as Dr. Joe Dispenza would say, I have an (overly) analytical mind that can often keep me stuck in past cycles that were developed between the ages of 6-9 (which is a period where there was a lot going on in my life).
I rarely have dreams, but my previous landlord has dreamed for me, about Pacer finding me and bringing me Home. A few months later, I dreamed about Pacer, Love, too, reminding me She is always with me. And I think my older sister may have left me a prophecy hidden in a poem she wrote. Once in a while, I get a felt-sense from a loved one or someone else’s loved one that has passed on. It doesn’t come in words but a drop in my awareness. Sometimes I can manage to write it or say it out loud but I’ll doubt the message as soon as the words leave my lips. What I am a little better at is channeled, or automatic writing. Despite the noise in my head being so loud, I can usually eek out a few sentences, sometimes a few paragraphs, from Something beyond me. How do I know? I will be the first to tell you I don’t, because doubting myself is a religious habit. Yet often the messages are of love and answer questions that I have been stuck on, which are absolutely not the voices in my head.
In this written format, I was gifted with a vision that I could almost visualize. It was of me, walking through a tunnel of darkness, while my angels and guides held up shields to protect the dark from touching me as I walked through. It was suggested that I don’t reach out to touch the darkness, not because it could hurt me, but because it could distract me. For once I felt confident I would make it through.
Later in the week, I found myself on a snowy trail lined with Evergreens. While hiking, I periodically let out a sob or two, in both fear and grief that I wouldn’t make out of the darkness of my mind, that my thoughts would always haunt me. Then the vision came back to me, and I could almost see it. I could “hear” my older sister say “I’m right here with you Ray-Ray.” This time, too, the trees were clearing the air while my angels and loved ones cheered me on as I kept walking, again certain I would make it through. Sunshine (Pacer), of course, was leading the way.
It was also during this hike that the poem below started to come to me. The first version is a bit more personal, although I’m assuming a few other healers/empaths could relate. The second version feels universal.
*****
The Way (Personal Version)
My Love, Everyone is rooting for you. Through the darkness, the angels are calling your name. The trees are clearing the path, while Loved ones are walking you Home, and Sunshine guides the way.
My Love, You cannot fail! For this day has been scripted in the stars since the day that you were born. This is a fated day! It has always been known, not that Love would conquer, but Love’s rule would return to all. One more step, one more choice. My Love, you are not alone.
We’re sorry it felt so hard, so heavy. Yet we can see you remembering now. You came here to understand, So you could be a flame to other’s pain.
It’s happening, my Love. Your rise above the darkness. We are ALL cheering you on!
One more breath, One more turn away from fear, and toward your loving heart. Instead of hearing darkness, all you will see is Light. You will remember, my Love, You are already Home.
******
The Way (Public Version)
My Love, Everyone is rooting for you. Through the darkness, the angels are calling your name. The trees are clearing the path, while Loved ones are walking you Home and Sunshine guides the way.
My Love, You cannot fail! For this day has been scripted in the stars since the day that you were born. This is a fated day! In this moment, the choice is yours. Choose love or choose fear. Believe in your inherent Goodness, or in the separation that blinds. Meet your Destiny now, or wait. Either way, it is all the same, for you will see, you are already Home. And we are all here, ready to celebrate your remembrance.
Does anyone else get confused when someone asks, “How do you do?”, or “How are you?”, “How was your day?”
To an on looker, it would appear that I freeze for a moment, a moment too long. It’s why most would say I’m quiet, while I pause, debating if I should say what’s on my mind or how I’ve been trained to respond, with an “I’m good” or “fine.”
What I really want to say…
No, maybe it’s too much…
But maybe not…
In my head I’m wondering…
Do I tell them about all the ideas running through my mind and about all the stories I want to write? Or maybe I should tell them about the white horse I watched running through the field from my window. And the cat! Oh, how I laughed, because it was not our field cat that I saw sneak out of the shed, not the one who’s food was inside. Maybe I say that? Or what about all the things I felt? The deep love I felt while watching Pacer nap. My delight in once again ending up at Brenda’s register at Natural Grocers and how, even though she can have a tough exterior, that I find so much joy in giving her the space to smile. Maybe how I felt it in my body when the sun moved behind the clouds? Or do I reveal the tears I cried watching Good Grief? …WhichI mainly viewed because I like Daniel Levy, and thinking that maybe because I knew the plot from the preview, I wouldn’t cry. Do I say how I teared up watching Alice in Wonderland too, because it made me understand myself and my purpose a little more? And the cows! How, as I rode my bike past, I wished my soulful friends a good day, pedaling away before they could sense the fear and sadness I felt about their futures. Is that too much? Ah! Maybe I talk about the snowflakes. How, in the reflection of the morning sun, I became mesmerized as I traversed up slopes of sparkles that took me Somewhere Else. Or the love… the love I felt, the love I released, and maybe the love I found. That reminds me of…can I say it? The guy I once dated, just a few precious times but felt our energies intertwine. How he told me I spoke too elusively, like I was keeping a secret, not understanding that ethereal is my native tongue? And maybe if he tried to, we wouldn’t have grown so far apart?
Or, maybe I talk about the fear I felt before I could catch the thought that caused it. Then I can describe, to help shift their energy as well as mine, how all my fears became forgotten, how they just melted away, like Frosty on a sunny day returning Home, while watching another sunset. How I once again got lost in the beauty of it all, and in the lostness was my expanse. Or do I talk about the deer, who greeted me and Pacer soon after the sun said goodnight? How I know they are my spirit animals, always protecting me and turning me towards my own spiritual self. Maybe, maybe, I just say “It was a magical day.”
But by then, just a few seconds after processing this all, all I see is a shoulder and the back of head. My time has passed. The stranger is still a stranger. I say a quick “I’m good”, as we both continue down our different paths.
Yet now, now at 35 and years of inner work, I still feel okay rather than overlooked. I’m grateful for my courage to diverge from the normal way. I know there are others like me, who crave depth and run from superficiality. At heart, I actually think that’s what we all want, the neurodivergent and those who are not. We aren’t meant to all be strangers. We are meant to connect. To see ourselves in one another, a soul behind a face. And no, it doesn’t mean I have to leave my solo nature and animal time behind. I can still be an introvert and wish for depth that can be shared, harmonizing the two.
I’m still a little awkward at it, being me. But I am freer than I ever was.
A Dog and Her Girl 