connection

The little girl stood nervously at the foot of her father's imposing golden-red throne. Despite its grandeur, the throne seemed to loom over her, a towering symbol of his power and authority. She claimed her short stature with a lifted spine and steady eyes, yet her heart raced with apprehension. She breathed as deeply as her tiny lungs could manage, gathering enough courage to pose a small question - one that burned within her, a query of monumental importance. She so desperately wanted to understand her world, this strange place she found herself in, and so she spoke, slowly and deliberately, for she had already felt the horrid sting when her father's response had snapped any trace of connection from her heart, severing their fragile bond.

She craved connection while so deeply needing to avoid the loss and abandonment that had already carved a wound within her - this polarity played out in the very consciousness of her nervous system, as deep and primal as the two, tiny sits bones that bore her weight.
There was a pregnant pause before he spoke during which she felt the familiar dance of both hope and despair. Her father's brow furrowed just before he finally opened his mouth only to express his eternal impatience in short, thick words that instantly negated her power, her existence, her very right to seek understanding. Her courage fell, along with her tiny eyelids, and in these fleeting moments, the lifelong critic within her was born and bonified - a harsh voice that would forever question her own worth.

As the little girl grew into an adult, she was acutely aware of this deep loss, this breach in attachment that showed itself in striking ways, especially in her relationships with lovers. Her ability to disconnect from the grief that still resided in her little body was remarkable, in fact, a kind of genius - and this made the pursuit of power enticing in equally striking ways. She became aware that this dance of polarity, so deeply ingrained in her nervous system and infused with the consciousness of abandonment, might always be something she would have to live with. A vibration, a buzz, a cycle of grasping and running away.

In her deep internal practices, however, she had evolved into a state that lifted her above the dance of polarity, into a spacious, empty, nothingness without disconnecting or becoming dysregulated at all. In fact, it was a level of consciousness that offered peace and ultimately a wellspring of light and love. She learned to connect with this energy, this luminous source that held and healed the wound that had been lodged deep within her hips.

And so, in those later years, she was finally able to visit her father free of judgment or protective strategies to hide her vulnerability. She was his daughter, yet able to honor his limitations as she had learned to honor her own. And in the masterful holding and healing of her own despair she had also experienced the true meaning of forgiveness.