The Full Moon Is Calling
The full moon is calling and I must go
Dancing in the path of a most glorious glow
Adventures await for those brave enough to dive
Into the depths I must go to arrive
Dreaming My Way into the Next
“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Critic as Artist
It is often in the most heated of summer days that one feels the need for utter surrender to all that is being held back. Emotions simmer as the final days of summer vacations, pools and adventure draw to a close. Being on creative leave from work, I find myself vacillating between an uneasy anxiousness and a building excitement of the unplanned. Gently, I remind myself this time has been granted so I may let go of the burdens of the typical and allow creative forces to guide me to the unexpected, a logistics free zone if you will.
The difficult aspect of this place is that my thoughts, the constant narrative in my mind, continue to barrel towards the typical. The tug of all sorts of responsibility is ever present and it takes “work” to let go. It is only in the dark of night and in my deepest of dreams where a momentary respite is found. As one that has always dreamed, I find that the messages of purpose and direction are flooding my sleep as if a tsunami of suggestion. Avoidance of such messages is always attempted, but alas I am unable to resist the call of my intuition.
Dreaming is never just a downloading of useless information, but rather a convoluted storyboard containing information my psyche is begging me to hear. Dreams can contain morsels of suggestion that are meant to be heeded and applied in daily life. Sadly, I often reject what I have seen. I am one that has learned many lessons the hard way and have paid the price for my refusal to listen to spirit.
“There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.”
― Paulo Coelho
In the heat of a summer night, with the new moon and Venus caressing one another, I sense a quantum shift has begun and feel a bit helpless in the midst of such tumultuous celestial activity. This shift has been in the making for some time with many experiencing great change in all aspects of life. This is no easy transformation, on the contrary it has been quite painful at times. Having deep wells of emotion bubbling under the surface, I find myself teary and completely overcome by the onslaught of this atypical energy.
I have no shame in stating my current emotional temperature. What troubles me is the persistent awareness of things looming yet not discovered. This foreshadowing has built to a spectacular crescendo and all I can think of is when will it be over. Yes, I have many dreams, hopes and aspirations; some of which I tremble to say out loud. I dream of writing. I dream of finding others who are moved by my ideas and I dream of wide open spaces, nature and solitude.
I understand that by speaking my dreams out loud, I must make a choice to move in their direction or stay frozen in a sea of contradiction and worries. The simple act of speaking my truth somehow provides strength and hope in making decisions that are otherwise uncomfortable. Along with these truths, I would be reticent to ignore the other elephant in the room, my self-confidence. By stating my dreams and listening to my intuition, I honor the Divine within me. This builds layer upon layer of confidence over the heaps of “not good enough” that have littered my subconscious for years. It is exceptionally difficult to move past the stories we tell ourselves. If not careful, I easily fall back into untruths that subtly smoother me in thinking I am less than. It is only in my deepest of dreams that relief is found, if only I pay attention.
In the approaching dog days of summer, I commit to making every effort to listen for the messages meant for me. I promise to believe in myself and dream BIG! Nothing is ever achieved in the status quo. I allow myself to bloom by being beautifully different, embracing all that is unique about myself, while forgiving missteps along the way. No one is perfect, but the critic speaks from a position of judgment and it is a choice to silence that beast. Lastly, I chose to swim freely in the depths of my dream world and explore all that resides within. The shift beckons and I will follow.
Limbo: Laundromats, Outdoor Showers and Bonfires
“It could be a meeting on the street, or a party or a lecture, or just a simple, banal introduction, then suddenly there is a flash of recognition and the embers of kinship glow. There is an awakening between you, a sense of ancient knowing.”
― John O’Donohue
Sitting at the iWash Laundromat, I watch my clothes swishing around in an industrial size washer and am struck by the simple act of water washing away the dirt and grime of this place. Feeling the heat of the day sticking to me like a wet coat, I let out an audible sigh wishing I too could be washed clean. One must always respect the sweltering heat of a desert summer day, if not the heat can cripple even the toughest of souls.
The anticipation has been mounting and I wake up each morning wishing I was anywhere else but here, as if my life is a movie set on pause. Knowing that my travels begins in August, I try to fill my days with the tasks at hand. Planning has always been a strength of mine, to the point of distraction. Now I focus on letting go of all the material things that weigh me down. Everything must go, it is all just so heavy both physically and spiritually.
Only three weeks until I leave for Harvard, my last academic obligation before beginning creative leave in earnest. It is a limbo of the worst sort. My mind is longing for the tranquility of nature and immersion into deeper ideas and I struggle to redirect in doing homework for the course I will be attending. The banality of academic dialogue is more pronounced in this limbo, a bad song playing on repeat over and over. The only true music calling me is aesthetically soothing and filled with the mysteries of the universe.
Watching the clothes spin in the machine, I ponder this place and all that it represents. The dust of the desert is unrelenting, a veritable Grapes of Wrath scenario. I find it in my shoes, my hair and even in bed. I glance up and notice a young couple stopping in with their week of dirty laundry. They too need water to wash the desert out. Even though the heat is oppressive, they smile at one another, make small talk and even seem to enjoy the ritual of the laundromat.
“Real friendship or love is not manufactured or achieved by an act of will or intention. Friendship is always an act of recognition.”
― John O’Donohue
Expanding my perspective, I see an elderly man with skin worn deeply by the heat and poverty of this place. He sits quietly on a bench enjoying the air-conditioned respite before he too must go out once again facing the wall of 1000 suns. The woman behind the counter has a look of resignation, as if to say “Yes, I work at a small-town laundromat and life is not how I expected it to be.” She too has the look of wear and tear with deep wrinkles on her face from years of smoking and a raspy voice to boot. “Can I help you darling?” she asks. “No thank you”, I say wanting to be left alone in my thoughts for at least the spin cycle.
Finishing up my clothes, I load them into my dust covered car and head back to the RV, my temporary sanctuary, parked on my boyfriend’s lot until our voyage commences. The heat is stifling, and the RV air conditioner simply cannot keep up. Spontaneously, I take off my sweaty clothes and decide to use the outside shower to cool down. The heat has a way of letting all inhibitions go and before I even have a chance to think about it, I am outside, stark naked, letting the cool streams of water wash over me. I think about the iWash washing off the desert and feel as if I am in my own laundromat begging to be purified. The water pours over me and a desert breeze gently brushes my skin. In an instant spirit is here, yet another moment of discomfort in which spirit reminds me I am never alone. The breeze dances across me as if to say, “Let it go Lavinia, let it all go. I am with you.” As I finish my shower and wrap myself in large beach towel, I feel a freshness that permeates my very being. Taking a deep breathe, I pause to look up at the sun acknowledging the symbiotic relationship of heat to water. Nature is truly amazing.
Later, my boyfriend lights a bonfire in front of his house. This is something that people do out here in the desert, especially when the coolness of night settles in. Once again, I am struck by the dichotomy of this place. The heat of the day is as repellent as a bad cold, but in the coolness of a desert night, the heat is a welcome visitor warming my legs as I sit mesmerized by the dancing flames. I lean my head back and look at the night sky. The stars flicker like thousands of jewels lighting up the darkness. I catch my breath for a moment stunned by the beauty of this desolate place.
Even in the harshest of environments beauty can be found. I may be riddled with anticipation but must not ignore moments of serenity as they present: the iWash with its plethora of interesting people, the absolute freedom of an outside shower as a breeze dances across my skin and the majesty of a desert night sky canvasing the glowing flames of a bonfire. These all offer moments of serenity in which spirit reminds of the connection to all others in the most beautiful of ways. Limbo will pass, and I will soon be on my way. The desert will stay with me, yet another piece to the universal puzzle of this world. Blessings to this place, the people and even the dirt. You all have been my teacher in the most harmonious and unexpected of ways.
The Intersection of Doubt and Decision
“The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.”
― John Muir
Here it begins, the process of letting go and there is no turning back. Fear is a shadowy figure that lingers and finds me in my dreams each night. It is but one thing to repeat affirmations promising to relinquish all that constricts. It is yet an entirely different beast to make these same affirmations a reality. The bridge between the two is great and one can easily get trapped in a limbo of uncertainty.
For me, this intersection of doubt and decision was marred by a trail of anxiety, tears and what can only be described as a complete breakdown. I sobbed for what I thought my life should be and knew that in my tears, lie all of the regret and fear resulting from this false sense of security. Material things have energy and at times this energy can be misconstrued as comfort. Why I ever thought an old Christmas decoration, coffee table or blanket equaled love I will never know. What is clear is that extracting myself from accumulation has been the most difficult thing I have ventured to do second only to my divorce.
Calling my sister, after saying goodbye to the place I have called HOME for the last three years, I choked back tears trying to sound strong when in fact I was completely crushed. She tried to comfort me and offer reassurance to no avail. In the midst of our conversation, a giant hawk flew over her car, nearly landing on the hood. In this moment of complete exasperation, an angel had let it be known that my sister and I were well taken care of. Speechless for a moment, my sister finally managed to say “Just let go, Vin. It is time for you to fly.”
“The mountains are calling and I must go.”
― John Muir
The rest of the trip to the city in which my RV is currently parked was a blur. I remember crying out loud and thanking a legion of angels for providing some comfort during a most difficult transformation. I remember telling myself to just let go and I clearly remember the moment when my heart finally heard the message and doubt became decision, fear became motivation.
That same day, my boyfriend had his own experience of Divine intervention. As he struggled with the feelings of separation from the home that he has lovingly nurtured for the past decade, a crow flew right above, circled and dropped a feather at his feet. Take this for what you will, but the message for me could not have been more clear. We are meant to take flight in this moment even if it means flying blindly into the storm of the unknown. It is time.
“Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden
Next week, a yard sale has been scheduled at which I will sell everything that remains save some clothes, dishes, and personal belongings. This final release from the cords of connection is necessary in order to make space for the next. It is in this space that my adventure begins. The intersection has been breached and the decision has been made. There is no looking back, only forward.
Feeling the weightlessness of this release, a sense of anxious relief permeates the air. No longer having to shoulder the burden of material things that provide nothing beyond utilitarian need, my time to walk with nature has arrived. This vagabond with gypsy blood is now a mystic wanderer searching for words unspoken, yet only experienced. Understanding that nothing can provide what I already hold within, I have released all expectations and joyfully complete the purge of the material for the fullness of all else. Now it begins.
The Full Moon Speaks and I Listen
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the door sill
Where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.
-Rumi
Looking out the window, all I see is goodbyes. A sense of lingering lasts being rustled away by uncertain firsts. Being well familiar with long goodbyes, the feeling is still unwelcome. The winds of change have been a constant, yet more like turbulent storms instead of gentle breezes. Reinvention is a dear friend; the kind you wish would not stop by unannounced. It is terribly difficult to only see unknowns, a blank canvas.
On the eve of yet another full moon, I have agreed to step out of the life I know and into the unknown. Never one to do things small, the looming storm clouds of change are rumbling above. As with any electrically charged storm, I feel the hair standing up on my arm alerting me to pay attention. “Listen to the moon speak”, it says.
My work life is shifting with a six month creative leave. What a blessing it is to be able to move at my own speed, no rushing from one fire to the next. Stepping onto this blank canvas requires letting go of everything I know and facing the storm head on. I must leave my overpriced townhome, pack up my belongings and live like a nomad for a while. As a Cancer and homebody, this is excruciating. My home is my sanctuary and I cling to it always. It is no mystery that this move is taking place on a full moon, in the month of July and with a bevy of celestial shenanigans happening at the moment.
Dwell as near as possible to the channel
in which your life flows.
Henry David Thoreau
This shift also calls for faith. Financial security, while a falsehood, has always been something I struggle with. Living in relative poverty for so long, it is difficult to let go of an imagined security blanket. Frightfulness is the only word that comes to mind. Once again, the full moon is speaking. A profound letting go is required with the belief that all will be well. This is not just a letting go of material items, but emotional wounds, fears and insecurities. All WILL be well. It will be stormy for a while, but the sun will shine again.
My children are also on the move with my daughter moving with her long term boyfriend and my son in a beautiful relationship and moving forward with his life goals. Once again the full moon speaks. No matter where I travel, I carry them in my heart. Love does not require being in close proximity, love is universal and boundless. I am so very proud of how they have grown into such beautiful souls. It is time to let go of the need to “be close by” and fly.
Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.
Begin it now.
—Goethe
Finally, Dylan and I have agreed to take this journey together. An unsigned contract with two souls entwined. We offer support for one another and are willing to stand in the middle of the storm, holding each other tightly. Each with our own scars, our own work to do; but together we are stronger. As Goethe writes, “Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.” Dylan, we must be bold now. We must face everything with an open heart and mind and be gentle with each other’s wounds. We must listen to the full moon speak and keep stepping out into the stormy winds of change. It is only when facing the storm that one is blessed with the rays of light shining through the clouds. We have many sunrises in our future and that is something beautiful to look forward too.
Let your full moon speak and choose to listen. The moon is wise, intuitive and ethereal. Bath in the light and be quite. What does it call you to do? Is it time to take that leap of faith? Listen and believe all will be well. Face the winds of change with a brave heart and a calm mind.
Lost in the Middle of Everything
I stand in the fray, noticing the dancing light on the coming horizon.
Alone in this abyss, I gently sway to the vibrations of others as they pass.
My feet are firm with restlessness, my heart is resolute with hesitation.
Everything moves at breakneck speed as the flickering light teases my senses.
Confusion is the emotion of the day, lost in the middle of everything.
Air tightens its grip, as if a noose of suggestion.
Moving nothing, the light playfully dances on my skin.
This echo chamber is deafening, my silence, the others noise.
The traffic is unbearable. It is oppressive. Hiding the why, the how – everything.
Peering into the cosmos of questions, lost in the middle of everything.
People move with such speed, blurring the lines of truth.
Everyone in a hurry to get nowhere, stalled in the rush to nothing.
Refusing to be stuck in reverse, I lean into the dancing light.
From my vantage point I see everything that was and every possibility.
Yet still here remains, a soul lost in the middle of everything.
-Lavinia Busch
For My Children: Move to Your Own Music
FOR ANY DAUGHTER/ FOR ANY SON
Do not let yourself be blindfolded early on.
Do not accept harsh or kindly lashing, slashing …
even when it is called “traditional,” “required.”
Do not be lulled by sensations…
soft velvet wrapped around your head
will blind thee nonetheless.
Do not hide behind, “It can’t be bad,”
“It’s not that bad,”
“No real harm’s been done. . .”
Do not try to convince yourself by bargaining,
“See, they’re such exquisite velvet blinders. . .
a cut above the usual.”
Be wary of “doing what we do here,”
“doing as we have always done.”
Withstand grinning Death in his many disguises;
he will promise fleeting excitement ,
a once a year glory in exchange for forfeiting
your one precious and wild life forever.
Do not pour salt
into the earth of your mind
and expect lilies to grow there.
For us, resistance is ceremony.
We are the proof that the soul’s truths
transcend the oldest time-honored lies.
“For Any Daughter, For Any Son” by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés
Nothing feels stronger than the tug of tradition, an incredibly magnetic pull toward the past. Traditions are an important part of any family story. What would we be without those that have come before? That being said, it is important to understand that we have no obligation to take ownership of what may not be meant for us, including our family traditions. We flex our courage muscle each time we resist doing things as they have always been done as opposed to listening to our hearts and moving in that direction.
Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes, “Do not pour salt into the earth of your mind and expect lilies to grow there.” Breathing in these words, I experience an instant release of the unwanted. Salt is an abrasive yet essential mineral for life. The metaphor of a mind filled with this life mineral, yet unable to blossom, is powerful. Why not sprinkle salt and leave some room for the lilies to germinate? After all, beauty is discovered only by giving breathe to an otherwise constricted way of being.
Resisting the status quo can be difficult. By its very nature, resistance can be insidious. If I wish my daughter and son to be strong minded yet gentle hearted, I must let them forge their way into this role even if their path differs from mine. Who is to say one way is the only way? Walking through life with a different cadence does not dishonor. It takes many cadences to create the beautiful music of a symphonic variation. One cannot possibly bloom if trying to walk, act or behave as everyone else.
The harsh words of the critic will sound, seeing all that is different and speaking to these differences without permission. Forget what you hear and see. As Dr. Estes writes, “For us, resistance is ceremony. We are the proof that the soul’s truths transcend the oldest time-honored lies.”
The following thoughts are for my beautiful children. My wish for them is that they continue to honor the voice within and dance to their own music, no matter how different it may be. Dance my loves and live fully.
Know your truth and honor it with every action and thought. Be freely and unabashedly yourself and revel in knowing that no matter the outcome you have lived life on your own terms.
Be brave and circle your own wagons as need be. Bravery is hard fought each time you face a fear that is not yours to hold. Toss out the ceremonial makings of the expected and dance a new war dance of your own. Listen for direction on the winds of change and let the breeze elevate your soul.
Face hardships with a humble heart and know that this life was not meant to be easy. Everyone, no matter how they appear, has experienced darkness bringing them to their knees. It is only face down in the dirt that one can finally let go of all expectations, inhibitions and unwanted observation by committing to the blooming of a beautiful soul.
Let go and flower into the sun, dance in the wind and smile broadly. This life is such a beautiful and precious gift. Remember that each new day is filled with possibility no matter what obstacles you may experience.
Smile at your troubles, laugh during your hardships and release the fear of the unknown. Silence the voices and refuse to change the music of your own drum. It is only when being completely self that life unfolds as it should.
Love unconditionally. Love those that make you uncomfortable, love family that you do not understand, love strangers that appear odd and love those that argue for the obscene and confrontational. Approach all with love in every instance. Think before you speak and hold your tongue if you do not trust what might be said in haste.
Do not acquiesce to others but simply send them love as you move in your own way. Try not to hold hate in your heart. Hate is a darkness that will take root and strangle the bloom before it has seen the sun.
Finally, dance. Dance to the music in your heart and the soothing sounds of the universe. Feel the rhythm of your day as if turning pages on a score. Balance moments of excitement with moments of repose just as an allegro meets an adagio. Feel joy in your body and do not be ashamed by this. Jump into the freedom that comes from moving your body in your own unique way. Embrace the oneness you experience in this movement and cherish the togetherness of body and soul.
Dance your way through the hardship and heartbreak and continue to listen to the music of your heart…turning it up loud. Be simple in your complexity, an open book that sits on a shelf waiting for those that wish to read you. Stand in honor of this authenticity and refuse to back down. Never forget, you are a beautiful soul and deeply loved.
Pieces to Our Puzzle
“Longing may be our legacy, but wholeness is our birthright. It lies at the heart of the disappointments and delights of everyday life. In weeding the garden and burning the toast. In falling asleep alone or enfolded in the arms of another. In reading poetry instead of watching the news. In missing the grandmother you adored and becoming the father you never had. In weeping for the suffering of the oppressed, the degradation of the planet.”
-Mirabai Starr
As spiritual beings, we are made up of a unique collection of pieces to our very own life puzzle. These pieces represent the work in moving from immaturity to spiritual wholeness. It is often with this soul work of reassembly that one can get stuck, wondering how to bring wholeness to a chaotic and sometimes unforgiving worldview. This begs the question, maybe we are not meant to reflect some spectacular version of perfection after all. Could it be within our imperfections that we exist in our truest form?
Growing up, I loved doing puzzles. What began as an unorganized slurry of parts, transformed into the most beautiful of pictures. This final image instantly made sense of the mess, as if it had been there all along waiting to be discovered. Working on this discovery was meditative in practice. Methodically lifting each piece, trying them in numerous places and looking for the smallest of details was a deeply introspective activity. I remember the tangible exuberance when arriving at the very last pieces. It was as if all of a sudden every angle sharpened and each piece seemed to effortlessly slide into the whole exactly where it was meant to be. The simplicity of it was startling. What seemed impossible from the beginning became instantly possible.
Life is not much different than the work of completing a complex puzzle. We enter this world with such possibility and many different pieces of self that will be tested in a plethora of ways. Each role that we try on is evaluated and considered. Is what we are doing or who we are leading us closer to this wholeness or further away? Each day brings new opportunities to evaluate our pieces under new circumstances, lending to endless amounts of feedback.
“Many of us have made our world so familiar that we do not see it anymore. An interesting question to ask yourself at night is, What did I really see this day?”
― John O’Donohue, Anam Cara
Just as with a puzzle, when finding ourselves at a dead end, we can remove layers that do not serve and rebuild our puzzle into wholeness. It is in this constant evaluation, continued work, and correction that one experiences the true practice of spiritual discovery. It is never too late to redefine our life. We are each given a blank canvas along with a bag full of pieces that represent our genetics, personality, birth status, family orientation, etc. While some of these pieces may be ill fitted from the start, we have the ability to build upon them in order to create a more beautiful self.
My marriage was a good example of this correction. In marriage, I tried out a piece of myself and worked tirelessly to make it “fit” the reality in which I found myself. It was only after years of hardship, I finally discovered my path was harmful and not in any way healthy for my heart and soul. I slowly became to undo these pieces, all that tethered me to another in an unhealthy way, and began the arduous work of rebuilding my puzzle one piece at a time.
I will most certainly encounter many more moments of setback in which I move away from that beautiful image awaiting me. Life is an endless cycle of expansion and contraction. All that matters is my intention. If I set an intention of spiritual growth, I can use this intention as a reevaluation tool along the way. If a piece does not seem to be fitting my intention, it may be time to make a change. In doing so, I continue to learn, grow and test this bag of pieces in as many ways as my precious life will afford. These pieces will begin to fill in the shadows of my soul leaving a beautifully clear image, representative of all that I am and all that I will ever be.
Life is Not A Rough Draft. Write Your Story
All the “not readies,” all the “I need time,” are understandable, but only for a short while. The truth is that there is never a “completely ready,” there is never a really “right time.” As with any descent to the unconscious, there comes a time when one simply hopes for the best, pinches one’s nose, and jumps into the abyss. If this were not so, we would not have needed to create the words heroine, hero, or courage.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Here I stand, on the precipice of great change, with a familiar shudder barreling up my spine. A feeling of extraordinary unease settles in, as if crawling out of my skin. I know change is coming and contemplate what it might feel like. This story of mine will shift and become new, unfamiliar and written in wet ink. My current place will be forgotten just as in the past, a turned page to a well-worn book of my life.
As with any book, I may or may not pick it up and reread sections, sharing stories of the past and lingering in that space. If I linger too long, I risk never writing the final pages. I could quite possibly overstay this chapter and ultimately miss what is meant for me. What a tragedy to never fully live into potential by becoming frozen in the now.
Writing is a metaphor for life in so many ways. A writer begins with an idea, broad in vision, small in detail. As each page is completed, the characters come alive. Characters may surprise by leading the story in an unintended direction. Life, just as in writing, begins with the stories we tell ourselves. We “write” an idea of who we are, what we do and how our life should evolve. It is often quite a surprise when our story veers off into uncharted territory.
As one that rewrites this internal narrative many times over, I am still caught off guard when being assaulted by the winds of change. It is clear that people, including myself, struggle with discrepancies in our stories. I compare this struggle to a new pair of shoes that just don’t seem to fit, but after being broken in become the most comfortable shoes owned. This “breaking in” of fabric is time consuming, uncomfortable and may result in blisters. A new direction will feel alien at the onset. It takes some time to declare ownership over any new perception of place. Soon, it will be as if the now has always been, fascinating how this new reality becomes singular so quickly.
Even with this feeling of trepidation, It is important to make every attempt to sit with this discomfort. As the author of my life, I am afforded creative license to rewrite anything I choose. Why wish for a riveting story, when I can write and live into it! Remember, it is not only in moments of joy, exhilaration and passion that good stories emerge. It is also in moments of trepidation, sadness, anxiety or fear when a story becomes intensely meaningful, profoundly moving and beautifully intimate.
Write your own story and enjoy the process. Don’t be afraid to edit at will, making adjustments as needed. Find the joy in the process, not the conclusion. Just as with a good book, curl up in a window and find joy in observing the unfolding. If lucky, our stories will have more twists and turns than a great mystery novel. Given the journey I am about to embark on, I am certain mine will.
Womanhood and Finding Beauty in the Divine Feminine
Imagine A Woman
Imagine a woman who believes it is right and good she is a woman.
A woman who honors her experience and tells her stories.
Who refuses to carry the sins of others within her body and life.
Imagine a woman who trusts and respects herself.
A woman who listens to her needs and desires.
Who meets them with tenderness and grace.
Imagine a woman who acknowledges the past’s influence on the present.
A woman who has walked through her past.
Who has healed into the present.
Imagine a woman who authors her own life.
A woman who exerts, initiates, and moves on her own behalf.
Who refuses to surrender except to her truest self and wisest voice.
Imagine a woman who names her own gods.
A woman who imagines the divine in her image and likeness.
Who designs a personal spirituality to inform her daily life.
Imagine a woman in love with her own body.
A woman who believes her body is enough, just as it is.
Who celebrates its rhythms and cycles as an exquisite resource.
Imagine a woman who honors the body of the Goddess in her changing body.
A woman who celebrates the accumulation of her years and her wisdom.
Who refuses to use her life-energy disguising the changes in her body and life.
Imagine a woman who values the women in her life.
A woman who sits in circles of women.
Who is reminded of the truth about herself when she forgets.
Imagine yourself as this woman.
© Patricia Lynn Reilly, 1995
Women, sisters, daughters and mothers; the beauty of the feminine takes many forms. Being a woman comes with a veritable list of expectations, inhibitions and even privileges. Women are expected to be caretakers, lovers, nurturers and collaborators. At the same time, we are encouraged to aspire to lofty goals albeit, politely, gently and fairly. All character traits forced without consent, by a society that values female submissiveness.
Being one that is sensitive and soft spoken, it stands to reason my personal conflict between expectation and reality is minimized. This has not always been the case as I have struggled stepping into my true self, finding my voice and shedding layers of expectations. This paradox is confusing. I cherish being a part of the divine feminine, the wellspring of all life and the universal heartbeat that connects us all. At the same time, I have a deep desire to live strongly, independently, authentically and free. The idea that I need to be taken care of is foreign to me. No one can own another person. We all must ultimately stand alone when our end is near and answer for the choices we have made.
With all of this being so, why is it so difficult for women to be heard without shouting, be taken seriously without being brash or express emotion without being labeled neurotic? Why is it a woman’s outside appearance becomes an open invitation for criticism, a way to discredit simply by the clothes worn or the style of hair?
“A woman who believes her body is enough, just as it is. Who celebrates its rhythms and cycles as an exquisite resource.”
-Patricia Lynn Reilly
As a former dancer, I was judged on my physical aesthetic, never my intelligence or depth of insight. Dancers are silent tools of a choreographer’s vision, very much like clay to be molded. This extreme drive for a perfect aesthetic was difficult to let go even after I retired. I suffered from some degree of body dysmorphia and an acute discomfort with my sensuality apart from the characters I played on stage. If not pretending to be someone else, who was I?
Despite this long and hard fought battle with body image, I now feel absolutely no shame in embracing my femininity. Every single thing that makes me courageous and adventurous is seeded in this strength. I am stubborn yet soft, determined yet pliable, wise yet young at heart and sensual while intelligent. All states are a part of the whole and it has taken many years to welcome them all back to my table with an open heart. I no longer feel a sense of the forbidden when feeling my sensuality bubble below the surface. I no longer feel stern when stating a difference of opinion and I no longer feel meek when choosing not to be boisterous or openly bold. I honor my gentle hearted manner and pay little mind to what others opinions.
“Imagine a woman who believes it is right and good she is a woman. A woman who honors her experience and tells her stories. Who refuses to carry the sins of others within her body and life”, I too have shed layers of shame for choices made out of fear, carried forward from generations that came before. These ancestral cords are shared biological remnants of abandonment, low self-esteem and self-hate. I no longer have to remain tethered to these emotions; they were never for me to begin with. I freely cut these ties and feel stronger for doing so.
Perhaps someday there will appear a poet courageous
enough to give expression to the voices of the “mothers.”
~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 386-387
Similarly, women in my family are incredibly sensitive to energy and well aware of the emotional temperature of a room. It stands to reason that we hide some of these gifts in an attempt to avoid labels of “hormonal, overly sensitive or believers in wacky pseudo-science.” Imagine having the intuition that something is amiss and not being able to find words to describe why? Very few are able to move forward when a woman answers “I just know” to the question of “Why?” There is no tangible data to cull, no statistics to list and no definitive proof. It is a matter of faith, in being a woman and embracing self.
If I could share one thing with women today, I would implore them to wear energetic shades deflecting expectations, norms and criticism. Embrace all that is beautifully feminine about you and pay no mind to the naysayers. In an effort to be seen, do not change your manner by becoming aggressive or loud. Those that need to see, will. They will notice you just as you are and embrace all that makes you so beautifully strong, nurturing and feminine. Be yourself and relish in this wholeness with each breathe, hearing the whisper of the Divine feminine all around you.