Drawing on reservoirs of calm in a time of uncertainty

None of us know how this epic sized event will unfold but life as we know it will be different. It’s already different. Day by day the unimaginable happens; rates of infection and death tolls rise, restaurants, public places and events are closed down or cancelled. It’s natural to want reassurance and certainty in a time of chaos. We are now seeing proof that everything is in a constant state of flux, we are seeing it magnified, it’s undeniable, unmissable.

Now more than ever connecting with others is important. Physical distancing may be required to reduce and stop the spread of infection, but we can still practice social solidarity. We have time to co-create our future reality together. It’s the perfect opportunity to imagine how we want to be in the world, how we value interactions with each other, how we start to honour the earth.

Maybe I’m naive but maintaining my equilibrium and not sinking into or contributing to fear, blame and victimhood is paramount. Fear causes dis-ease in the body and in the world. I can’t help but wonder what influence acts of kindness and solidarity would have right now. Imagine if each small act of compassion was imitated over and over and over again how we could raise the collective vibration.

A time of quarantine and isolation, as unthinkable and truly disconcerting as it is to have this imposed, will provide me with time to go within to continue to heal trauma, shame, and guilt. Maintaining clarity and focus and seeking the peace within the storm will enable me to reconnect to myself and others. It will provide me with an opportunity to connect virtually with people across the globe to share what we are learning, our ideas and visions for our future on this planet.

The uncertainty of this time is real. I intend to tap into reservoirs of calm. I will draw on the energy from my garden and by sinking my hands into the earth truly connect to my land, my place. I will connect with my ancestors through meditation and draw strength there. I will join online forums focused on wellbeing, healing and connection. I will write, read and I will pray for all of us. A focussed and well spent time of stillness will allow me to emerge into the world more fully myself, offering a better version of myself, a me that is more willing to embrace community and contribute more selflessly.

This global pandemic has poked hard at our vulnerabilities. History is peppered with pilgrimages into inhospitable deserts and arduous journeys across continents. Perhaps we are being called to take time out for a pilgrimage, to explore our inner landscapes, our moral and spiritual beliefs and to explore our wounded places, to heal. Perhaps we are being thrust into the alchemical process of calcination; purification, to strip away false beliefs, attachments and identities and feel the peace that comes with surrender.

Our lives are definitely being reshaped. All I can do right now is surrender and trust that what is happening around the world is happening for us and not to us. My faith in humanity and the universe provides me with a vision of the world when we emerge. It’s a changed world, yes, but a better world in many ways. I trust we will emerge to a way of life that is gentler and slower where people connect with the earth and each other in new and more conscious ways.

Just as the world can change in the blink of an eye, life can heal in the blink of an eye.

Saddened by ‘funny’ memes that perpetuate toxic mutilation of male emotions and degrade women

Call me sensitive, quirky, fucked in the head but I have had to refrain from commenting on a few Facebook memes about corona virus that marginalise women as weak and vulnerable and perpetuate regressive stereotypes that privilege masculinity.

I’m not a man hater. I’m not a rampant lesbian feminist, not that it should matter if I were, but I’m anticipating the venomous knee jerk reaction that this sharing may elicit from some men. Let me be clear, I love men. I like fucking men. I also know that in some of our relationships men and women need to grow to support each other better, to hold and see and accept each other. I know that. I also know the men posting these memes are not bad people, I know some of them personally, but they are unwittingly reinforcing a toxic male culture.

It’s because I can see a different way for men and women to uphold and honour each other that I am even making this comment. Together we have a long way to go, not for gender equality but for mutual respect and adoration of the masculine and feminine in their truest, purest forms, in their most powerful ability to uphold each other.

There were two memes that got to me and the longer I thought about them made me cross. Be assured, I know it’s insane to have this reaction to something meant as a joke and designed to be funny and get a laugh, but…

One meme is titled Corona sex and shows a ‘cardboard’ couple, like the male and female toilet symbols, having sex. First, they are shown in the missionary positon. She’s on the bottom and sneezes or breathes out and the caption says, “Unsafe”. The image below has the caption “Safe” and shows the couple in the ‘doggie’ position and shows her breathing out again, but the man is “safe”. FFS! Really? Like only women can be infected, like women are merely the playthings of men, like women wouldn’t want to instigate sex and also be safe? I could go on, the insinuations are many, but I’ll leave it there.

The other one is a skin suit for a man, penis piece included, and the caption is “When she has corona and you’re still horny”. FFS! This is the sort of stuff that perpetuates the insidiousness of the patriarchy. It’s meant to be a joke. I know that, but I actually didn’t find it funny. This sort of ‘harmless fun’ reinforces social and gender conditioning that not only degrades and devalues women but also defines the identity of our men, in negative ways.

These ‘funny’ memes are perpetuating the long held, toxic mutilation of male emotions and they are upholding the oppression of masculinity that posits that real men can’t be tender and loving, that real men have to be heroes, and tough and fierce.

So while I was initially annoyed that as a woman my gender was being portrayed in a certain way, as a mother of a male, as an educator of young men, as a lover of men, as a defender of the divine masculine I got sad and then angry because it’s time our men were released from the emotional straightjackets they have been placed in and it’s time we all acknowledge that masculinity is not defined by an ability to defeat the feminine. Toxic masculinity harms both men and women and erodes how incredibly beautifully we can interact with each other.

Am I overreacting to some harmless fun? Maybe… but…

Boredom

Boredom

All pervading
bone crushing, mind numbing boredom.
Stagnant. Stuck.
Itchy to do, feel, be something else.
Be somewhere else.
Be someone else.
Be entertained.
Be fulfilled.
Be elated.
Ffs. There must be more than the mundane round the clock blah blah.
Work, sleep, no sleep, eat, work, no sleep, eat, work.
Arrgghhh.
The frustration: blah, blah.
Red wine. Vodka.
Momentary satisfaction. Disturbed sleep.
The man.
Momentary distraction.
Emotionally unsatisfied. Mind games.
Square one.
Alone.
Free, strong, relieved.
Down,
down she goes.
Spiraling.
Craves entertainment,
distraction.
Stuck.

Hormones! Argh!

Religion and tradition—opiate and analgesic?

ADDICTIVE TRADITION 
If religion is the opiate of the people, tradition is an even more sinister analgesic, simply because it rarely appears sinister. 

If religion is a tight band, a throbbing vein, and a needle, tradition is a far homelier concoction: poppy seeds ground into tea; a sweet cocoa drink laced with cocaine; the kind of thing your grandmother might have made.
—Zadie Smith

I have given up worshipping in a church. I have a faith and I have a spiritual practice but my church has no walls, it is wherever I am and it’s most solid in the natural spaces around me. I chose my alternate path because I don’t like dogma and I don’t like being ‘preached’ to by other mere mortals who profess to be superior because of their faith and because they worship in a church.

Everyone sins, some of my ‘sins’ have been more obvious than other people’s. I grew up in the catholic faith and had a child out of wedlock at 18. Didn’t that cause a stir for years to come. Funny too, I was judged for it years and years later, by a family whose religious convictions were very strong until their daughter, the youngest, fell pregnant while still at school. Not a word was breathed about the sin in that.

Tradition is interesting. What tradition are we talking here? The tradition of wearing blue or maroon during the State of Origin series? Having roast turkey on Thanksgiving? Or the traditions associated with initiations, such as the sculling six cans of beer at a party through a hole in the bottom of the can, a naked beach run?

I actually don’t think it’s so much the tradition but the adherence and expectation of adherence to tradition that is the problem. I remember when I said I was no longer buying Christmas gifts for my family. There were some high emotions. I was looked at like I was obscene. I might have dropped a turd in the middle of the living room floor for all the looks of disgust I received.  I was no longer interested in a token effort at playing happy families. My family rarely spoke to me or included me in gatherings (admitteldy I made it very hard for them to love me at the time). I thought it was time to get real. Why give a gift to someone when you really can’t stand them, why uphold a societal norm when you think and feel otherwise? I guess in some ways my action was forcing others to act in congruence with their feelings and it was uncomfortable, exposing.

I see a grim side of tradition where people are trapped in a situation or, worse still, where bad behaviours occur but no one is willing to stand up and say no or put an end to the behaviour.

An interesting thought to ponder. There is so much more, I’ve barely scratched the surface. Thank you Zadie Smith, your words are glinting, grabbibg my attention and causing my mind to turn somersaults. I like it.

 

What is this ‘flow’ they talk about?

Ideas, concepts, nature and art provoke contemplation in me. I can be occupied for days or weeks in quiet reflection; thoughts mulling about in the background as I go about my daily tasks. I graze and reflect, interpret and try out ideas for myself, finding links and truths, sometimes getting nowhere other times feeling sated by the mere joy of connecting with the brilliance of the original creator of the work.

I read the following idea in Rob Brezsnys’astrological newsletter and made note of it for further thought.

When they say, “Go with the flow,” what “flow” are they talking about? Do they mean the flow of your early childhood conditioning? The flow of your friends’ opinions? The latest cultural trends? Your immediate instinctual needs? When they say, “Go with the flow,” are they urging you to keep doing what’s easiest to do and what will win you the most ego points, even if it keeps you from being true to your soul’s code? Consider the possibility that there are many flows to go with, but only one or some of them are correct for you. Do you know which? Maybe it’s the one flowing in an underground cavern, far from the mad crowd.

My initial ruminations have led me to dismantle this and consider a piece at a time.

When they say, “Go with the flow,” what “flow” are they talking about?

 Good freaking point man.“In flow” too is another curious statement. I’ve always wondered what flow is, even though I’ve used this terminology myself. What do I actually mean?

Do they mean the flow of your early childhood conditioning?

Oh, hell no. That would be freaking disastrous. I would not like that flow. I’ve been trying to leave that ebbing cesspit behind me for most of my recent history, at least 20 years. (Lol. Recent!)

The flow of your friends’ opinions?

Nope. Well, maybe, sometimes. This isn’t always a bad thing. Others can have their opinions, I don’t need to convince them of mine. If I don’t like theirs I don’t have to follow but I don’t have to battle either. If their opinions impinge on my knowledge of what’s right for me then it’s a big no. If it’s about allowing and experiencing something new or different, then yeah, maybe that’s an okay flow to go with.

The latest cultural trends?

I’m not into trends or fads or fashions. So, no.

Your immediate instinctual needs? 

Perhaps this is it. The key here would be to separate self-indulgence from instinct but if we feel something is right why not go with it? This might actually cause a flow state.

When they say, “Go with the flow,” are they urging you to keep doing what’s easiest to do and what will win you the most ego points, even if it keeps you from being true to your soul’s code? 

Well, clearly not. Why would you? Do I do this? Umm, yeah, maybe I do what’s easy sometimes but ego points? I don’t understand that. I don’t consciously do anything that would keep me from my soul code. I think that’s all part of becoming aware and conscious. I strive to unlock my true self, my psychic abilities, my talents. I don’t want to stay away from them any longer. I want to move toward and into them now. Yes, there are triggers and behaviours and habits I am trying to unlock and dissolve so I can come into myself more fully. There is talk of peeling back the layers of the onion. But what’s at the centre? Anything? What happens when there are no more layers? It’s all learning and all part of the magnificent course of life. Maybe this, right now, is the me I am meant to be, the suffering and the joy, the stumbling, the getting up and moving forward are all part of it.

Consider the possibility that there are many flows to go with, but only one or some of them are correct for you. Do you know which?

This statement I agree with. There clearly is more than one flow. We need to be aware of the flow we choose to go with and aware of the consequences. Sometimes there is no harm in catching a ride, just know when to get off. Choose flow that aligns with your heart. Hop on a current that scares you occasionally to see where it leads. Let your heart and intuition guide choice here, I think.

           Maybe it’s the one flowing in an underground cavern, far from the mad crowd.

Anything away from the maddening crowds sounds good to me. The forest. The beach. A mountain top.

What flow will I choose today? The flow of my heart I think.

What does flow mean to you? Have you caught a particularly interesting current lately?

 

Something has to change

Something has to change!
The story women grow up with has to change.
The tragedy of learning other women,
who I adore and admire,
also loathe themselves
is heartbreaking.

My wise and beautiful friend
admonishes me for talking harshly about myself
yet she too suffers from an internal battle with herself.
Another vibrant, radiant, sexy friend also
loathes herself.
Always has.
She’s intelligent, courageous and nurturing
but hates herself.

How the fuck does the world go around when half the population
privately can’t stand themselves,
don’t feel enough,
feel they don’t measure up.

Not enough for who?
Measure up to what?

What’s going on here?

This shit has to change.

Now!

It’s time to reclaim our sovereignty my beautiful women friends.
It’s time to embrace ourselves as we do our lovers and children.
It’s time to become embodied sovereign women,
for ourselves
and the sake of our fellow sisters and our daughters.

I realise the big question is “How?”
I don’t have the answer right now
But I know there is an answer.
It won’t happen overnight but each small action toward:
accepting ourselves,
challenging societal rules, about age and body image,
saying no to the constraints placed upon us,
choosing how we use our bodies,
not accepting the crap we’re told by western medicine about our bodies
are part of the answer.

I think it’s also about ending the “good girl” behaviour and
choosing to express ourselves when and how we want.
It’s about asking for what we want,
walking away from what we don’t.
It’s about learning to be comfortable in our skin and not comparing ourselves.
And you know what,
I think it’s about starting to see other women,
not as enemies, but allies.
It’s about seeing the good and the beautiful in the women around us.
Recognising another woman’s gifts does not diminish our own,
it strengthens us,
unites us and brings us back to ourselves.
Strong women don’t compete with each other
or tear each other down.
Embodied women support each other,
are generous with other women,
are generous and loving toward themselves.

It’s time to reclaim our sovereignty my beautiful women friends.
It’s time to embrace ourselves as we do our lovers and children.
It’s time to become embodied sovereign women.

Let’s do this.
Let’s get this show on the road.
Let’s transform and be rad as fuck!

Reinvent yourself, reclaim your essence

Reclaim yourself from the living dead. Life beckons”
Srividya Srinivasan

Until the last few weeks I had noticed myself saying, “This is not how I normally behave.” “This is so out of character for me.” “I don’t normally do this.”

It’s been fifteen months since the dissolution of my marriage, since my life change irrevocably in so many ways, for the better, mostly. In this time, I’ve become aware of and begun dismantling some of the habits, beliefs and behaviours that developed during the past 22 years.  Initially, I didn’t know how to define myself without the construct of that relationship around me. Who was I when the persona I’d built, to live within the confines of the relationship, was no longer needed?  How do I navigate the world as a middle aged single woman? It was all very puzzling at first because I no longer had to do many of the things I’d always done now that I was no longer in a relationship. My approach to life was different. Routines fell away because I realised I’d created them to provide a sense of control over my life when I had very little control over the direction or depth of my relationship. Interactions with people changed too. I became more patient with people and more gracious. As a result of my intense pain I noticed I was more accepting of others, willing to listen more, less quick to judge or dismiss. Then of course interactions with men changed too. I was able to have deeper and longer conversations. Spend time with a range of men, things you don’t do, well, I didn’t do, in a marriage. I could go out and not worry about being home at certain times. I could go out on a ‘school night’ even.

It slowly dawned on me that I didn’t have to follow the same rules. That I could choose differently.  I began to let go of “you must be who you’ve always been” and just watched where things led.

I’ve experienced things I haven’t before because of the situation I was in, but I can make different choices now.  If a behaviour doesn’t feel right, then I know that I won’t repeat it. If a thought doesn’t gel, then I won’t go down that road again. But just because I haven’t done or thought or said particular things over the last 20 years or so doesn’t mean I’m not being me or that I’m acting out of character, it just means I’m exploring the possibilities, nudging structures that may no longer serve me. And you know what? If I wake up disappointed with myself, I can always start over and begin again.

The last year has been like an experiment to create a new identity for myself. It’s work in progress, so I don’t think I’ll be bursting through a ribbon, at a convenient end point, proclaiming a bright and shiny new me. The process is more like a resurrection. It’s like a remembering and rediscovering of my truth, a truth that become hidden among the needs of others, a truth hidden in the recesses of memory and youth, if it ever truly had time to develop in the first place. I feel that I’m re-emerging and reframing my life.  I’m discovering that what and who I always thought I was isn’t necessarily true anymore. I am reclaiming the essence of who I am and redefining myself.

If you find yourself in a similar position, my advice is to: resurrect, reclaim, restart and keep moving forward.

 

Connecting hearts – a simple bridge to build connection

 Remember that a person’s name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language.  Dale Carnegie

I’m not sure I totally agree with Carnegie that our name is the most important sound to us but certainly to hear your name spoken by one you love can fill you with joy. I remember my grandmother always made me feel like I was the most special person alive. Whenever I telephoned she would give the most joyful exclamation, “Oh, Shannyn!’ like it was the best thing in her whole day to hear my voice, as though she hadn’t heard from me in years. I loved her for that and I still hear it in my head, often. I can hear her tone, the smile and love in her voice. Few others have ever said my name in a way that has made me feel so loved and valued.

When my lover said my name for the first time it was like the shimmery, sparkly sound that wind chimes make on a lightly breezy day, the sound danced in my ears.  I didn’t realise how tremendous a little thing like that could be.  It came as a surprise because even though we’d known each other for some time our primary language had not been words, until then.

Carnegie’s words have made me more aware. I’ve been paying attention to who uses my name and who doesn’t. There are two people who I have met recently, and have almost daily interactions with, who call me by name. While they are not people I love and are acquaintances only, I feel like I’ve been seen, acknowledged and some connection has been made. It’s an incredibly rare thing, I have come to realise.  Think about it – how often are you called by name? I am surrounded by colleagues who say hello and goodbye, each day, without specifically using my name. I have friends who text or message in some form or another and launch into a conversation without the opening salutation including my name. It feels a little like we’ve adopted the Harry Potter approach and everyone has become he or she who cannot be named. Is it laziness or a consequence of our highly digitalised social media engagement? I don’t know but it’s an interesting exercise to note who uses your name and who doesn’t. I speaks volumes to their character and their regard for human interaction. I appreciate those people a little more now that I have begun to notice.

I also appreciate those who call me by the correct name and those who spell my name correctly. It’s spelt with two ‘n’s’ in the middle.  I’m not sure how you get Sharon from that. It’s also spelt with a ‘y’ not an ‘o’.  It’s been a life time of eye rolling and head shaking. How can they get it wrong I wonder? Australians have a tendency to shorten people’s names. I tend not to do this and I detest using nicknames, especially weird ones, preferring always to call someone by their Christian name as a sign of respect and to demonstrate their value to me. My father and sisters used to shorten my name and call me Shan. I actually don’t mind it. So, it was a surprise to me when Michael came to work for me and very early on he called me Shan.  He was horrified when I said to him “You know, only my family call me that.” He thought he had offended me and overstepped. Far from it, it was really natural, a sign of his comfort with me and of the deep friendship we would develop.  I still enjoy hearing him use it when we talk.

At times, when I’ve been introduced to someone at a noisy party or gathering and I have missed their name or been unsure of how to pronounce it, rather than confirm early I have hesitated and it quickly becomes too late, and I’m stuck in a situation where I converse with someone and don’t call them by name. It’s awkward, I don’t like it and I realise now how different my interactions might be if I more often used someone’s name and simply asked for clarification right from the start.

Using someone’s name is a powerful gesture, a bridge to connect our human hearts across the dross of the everyday. I think it’s time we stopped skating across the surface of life. I think it’s time we connected by simply using the names of those we converse with.  It may not be the absolute, most important sound in the any language but it sure is sweet to the ears and touches the heart. A person’s name is sacred, in a way, and the use of it is a beautiful blessing and acknowledgement of our respect and interest in them. See what a difference it makes to use someone’s name in your interactions; it can buoy a weary soul, calm a raging beast and turn a frown into a smile.

 

“I remember when your name was just another name that rolled without thought off my tongue.
Now, I can’t look at your name without an abundance of sentiment attached to each letter.
Your name, which I played with so carelessly, so easily, has somehow become sacred to my lips.
A name I won’t throw around light-heartedly or repeat without deep thought.
And if ever I speak of you, I use the English language to describe who you were to me. You are nameless, because those letters grouped together in that familiar form….. carries too much meaning for my capricious heart.”
― 
Jamie Weise

Under the canopy

Under the canopy

Waking in the still, half-light I ventured out
Barefoot
under the waning gibbous moon.
A wispy banner of cloud hung in the sky
Not night, not day
The earth welcomed me.

In the stillness there was movement
Not rain, as I thought, but the dripping cascade of moisture
from one leaf to another
Weaving a path to the earth below.

Moving into the circle,
under the canopy,
I was anointed,
blessed
with dew drops from heaven.

I’d been drawn from my bed
by the trees
to join a morning ritual,
prepared just for me.

Light and shadow intersect in deep healing.

In order for healing to occur, our good and evil, light and shadow must overlap. Embrace your darkness. See what wonders emerge.

Ancient shamans used to perform a balancing ritual, one in which light and dark meet. The light and dark must meet to integrate otherwise we run the risk of the dark erupting and manifesting in depression, anger, misadventure. Repressing our shadow blocks us from living authentically. It isn’t something to be afraid of exploring.

Image result for swirl

Sitting in a Melbourne pub on a Tuesday afternoon in March I idly sifted through the photos on my iPad and found a screen shot of a comment I had left on a friend’s Facebook post in 2014. I don’t remember the post but it must have held some meaning for me to take a shot of my comment and save it all this time. I wrote:

I wonder how often we are open to allowing others to see our darkness, so they can forgive us and love us. I know I make it difficult for people to love me because I hide my darkness from them for fear of … for fear of everything. Being abandoned, being vulnerable, having to explain myself, defend myself. Blah, blah, blah (Yes, I wrote blah, blah, blah).
On the other hand, why is it I am aware of the darkness in others, and when I soften to it I am more willing to accept them for who they are and embrace them more?

Someone responded to my comment saying, “when we are being authentic and vulnerable we are exposing that shame, that fear, that guilt or whatever it is for us that keeps us small or limited/ frightened. People who love and know you, won’t hold it against you, they will love you more.”

It was odd to read this and reflect. I’ve not been afraid to be vulnerable in sharing deep thoughts and feelings. People have commented on my writing and applauded my vulnerability. However, the one person I felt I should have been able to truly show my darkness too, didn’t embrace me more but rather walked away.

Sitting in that Melbourne bar, on my second glass of red wine, I realised it was not my darkness he was afraid of but my light. He also acknowledged he had dimmed my light and was letting me go because of it. Yes, he did actually say that and while I’m not entirely convinced he is that sensitive or attuned, it is nice to hold onto, even though I’d rather villainise him. What I realise now is there was no understanding in him. No amount of explanation could help him meet me, see me, know me, understand me. He was unable to hold me in my darkness, or my light, to accept or comprehend me simply because he had never interrogated or opened to his own darkness. But rather stuffed it down, denied it and avoided it. You can’t hold someone else in their darkness if you don’t acknowledge your own. It would be something too foreign, too frightening.

Now, when I meet people I articulate my darkness. It’s hard to show it but I talk about it, warn people, make them aware so they have a chance to run early and so they know what to expect but most of all to save myself the bother of muddling through it and being disappointed later.

The people who really know me, who really love me, do in fact love me even more once they’ve seen it, felt it, held me through it. These champions of mine; my son, my sister, my friends; see the whole of me and keep on supporting me. Funny my life partner, was not one of them. I knew the moment I accepted his desperate, and now I realise manipulative plea because he’s done the same to another, to support him that I was doomed to a life less than I wanted. I saw it all in that moment and yet was too afraid to say no, such was his need.

I made an observation to a friend that I seem to have a habit of collecting broken birds. People who need healing come to me. I’ve never chosen a partner, they’ve chosen me and as I reflect, they all needed healing. I no longer want to heal people who drain me, who turn around and smite me, hurt me as a consequence. Recently, a man asked how my dating life was going. I mentioned it wasn’t really going and something along the lines of seeming to attract men who were afraid to be alone regardless of a glaring mismatch, that many needed validation, or something along those lines. He made the observation that I attract broken pigeons because I am an empath. How astute. He too had been doing the same, until our meeting.

I have meandered away from where I began, and, in my wandering, I now know that it’s unlikely anyone who needs to be healed will be a worthy witness to my dark side. I am not afraid of my darkness, I can love others despite theirs. I can love someone who is willing to show their darkness and not play small, not limit themselves or our relationship by keeping things sanitary and falsely even keeled. I know too that I require a man who will not run from mine. Who will hold fast. Who will embrace me and help me weather the storm. Who I can be truly vulnerable with and who will ride out the rolling, roiling ocean of feminine emotion while remaining steadfastly in his masculine.

I’ve been talking a lot about the masculine and feminine lately, it’s a theme that keeps coming up for me. Years ago, two very intuitive and spiritual men said they could see me running women’s circles about the divine feminine, female energy and goddess energy. I laughed. It was so far outside my comfort zone, interest and lifestyle it just didn’t seem possible. Once I became more interested in spirituality it seemed possible just not probable. At the time I so often defaulted to my masculine that I had no sense of my feminine. I actually ran from it. In order to survive in my work I had to project toughness, though I believe I was, and was often complemented for being, caring and empathetic. In my primary relationship I had to fight to be heard and seen. I also had to protect myself so often that the feminine was very deeply buried. But here she is emerging. Sometimes as Kali energy, sometimes as Venus energy. People notice. I see people notice it. This is new for me. I have been fortunate to have a wonderful man come into my life who has allowed me to explore the feminine. I have seen too how characteristics and behaviours in other men, not fully in their masculine, throw me out of it. And still I digress from my initial musings on dark and light. But perhaps I may still be on track; for while I am now revealing and feeling more into and enjoying the soft feminine, it is the revealing of the dark feminine that I haven’t explored before and that’s where the path takes me.

I wonder, will I bond with a partner who will be open to my darkness as well as my light, so he might love the whole of me? Will I partner with a man without the fear of abandonment, with whom I can be vulnerable, without having to explain myself or defend myself, a man who will hold me not only in my light but also when the tempest rises thus allowing my heart to remain open and unobstructed? Will I unite with an ally who appreciates being seen and supported in their light and dark? A dream I trust can be a reality. I welcome such a gift.

Love isn’t safe; its beauty is in the unpredictable, the rise and fall, the light and dark. To make it safe only makes it temporary. Know who you are. Know what you want. Be vulnerable. Express yourself and tell your partner what you need. Learn what they need. Be conscious. Talk to the people you love. Commit consciously and meet, truly meet them. This and more.