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The sage Ruler wanted her to marry him, and all signs pointed to that truth. He was committed, ‘in’, and ready to tie the knot. Rationally, perhaps pompously, he evaluated that it was the right thing to do. However, she was barely ready to consider marriage despite the many things that she had said yes to: Buying a house, starting a family, planning retirement. Her original family beginnings were too chaotic, and it was her birth that started the years of discord. How could she be the cause of more discord her heart screamed, no matter how much she loved him. She was paralyzed.
And it was precisely because they bought a house, that the need to control his kingdom was born. This brought out the tyrant in him: Expectant, demanding, righteous, and unfeeling, the Ruler hated this part of his DNA, yet it would sneak out in inopportune moments causing shame and frustration galore. His inclination toward authority over his love’s sovereignty disgusted and confused him, and so he felt caught between two very uncomplimentary parts often leaving his new kingdom to find solace. When desperate, he would give ultimatums and use force to support his entitlement and then sulk back to his work shed, wondering what on earth just happened. Hanging his head, he expressed how much he wanted to honor his would-be wife’s timing. He really desired to respect her choices and lean into what she could give him. But his family was adamant. Marriage is both the key to being responsible and to being part of this family. It is what we do if you want to belong. And so, the sage ruler was in quite the dilemma, rejected by his mate and ridiculed by his family. Now the ruler was a modern guy. He truly, in his heart of hearts loved his lover and could be unattached and constructive at the same time. But this nagging ache in his gut, born of a need for guarantees left him paralyzed too. He could not be sage, nor a ruler of his kingdom which left him impotent and codependent. He was lost in his own palace. As it turned out, and because he loved her so much, he was willing to override the force of his DNA so to become the sage ruler that also lived in his gut. The wise in him held the unwise and the power in him held the chaos of disorder that had created the need for control. He positioned her throne next to his at the front of their big, wrap around porch, and held her hand with unconditional care. He gazed at their ringless clasp in total awe and acceptance. He had not lost anything save the constraints of freedom and joy.
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This gray wolf might look scary, but deep down, he was just looking to express love. He was diligent in striving to be a better he-wolf, a better mate. He studied the 5 A’s of relationship: Acceptance, affection, appreciation, approval or acknowledgement and attention. He truly meant well, hoping to apply his new knowledge with his she-wolf. Yet he found that when simply receiving or giving love, there was an old and familiar feeling of resistance deep in his heart that pushed her away. He feared she would notice and so he worked even harder with all his A’s.
One day the he-wolf expertly tracked this visceral response, discovering an anger, probably to do with his mother he recognized, for she had been particularly critical, often yipping in an overly strong voice. He felt the ancient wall of protection in his heart, the separation that kept him safe from feelings of inadequacy and rejection. Only his mate was not ridiculing him. It was a reflex that he could not seem to shake no matter how much appreciation he practiced. "One of the gifts of my wolf presence is allowing the sensations/feelings that previously could not be felt at an earlier age", he shared. Wise wolf, so true. So, let us see what happens then if we allow the sensations of anger, meeting and welcoming the wall. He let it diffuse and relax enough to discover what he knew was hiding behind. And there it was, the sens-a-tions of rejection and shock. He gave this his soft attention, acknowledging the protected feelings at last. Appreciating them with a tender affection as if holding them for the first time. It was different this way. Knowing about this part and continuing to protect is very different than including and feeling. This inner A practice provided a huge relief as feelings moved as sensations. In their wake he experienced a heart opening and a humble wisdom that was palpable. He realized that he had learned to treat himself the way he had perceived his mother treating him. With a criticism so strong that he was constantly desiring to be perfect. When the hurt softened and his big, wolf body relaxed, he no longer coupled the criticism with perfection. He could just be; strong, loving, and available. The he-wolf continued to practice the inner 5 A’s instead, offering his heart with openness. He saw that he was using the A’s to feel better about himself, but he experienced a greater healing and wisdom by applying them to his own broken heart. And having done so he no longer had the need to project perfection onto his she-wolf, and she could finally relax too. Feeling into the free flow of pure consciousness in all Beings alike and sensing the qualitative impressions of very precise and specific information in each unique creature and species; a skunk being a skunk; an elephant given all it needs to know itself exactly as it is, an elephant, with no confusion. And so, it is for us as humans. The impressed samskaras and inherited information on literally all levels is exactly the needed imprint for this lifetime without question. This kind of true trust is an invitation to relax into the mystery we have been given with awe and wonder.
I am your body, and I am functionally designed to provide several magical foundations for physical, emotional, and spiritual support. Perhaps the most revered is my pelvic bowl or the chalice, a physical design I proudly feature for your global support.
When my deep belly and pelvic space is free and open, I feel your deeper breath and your free mind open to its silence so that a sense of timeless Being resides once again, just like when you were a child. This brings me tensionless joy! My hara, the lowest locus of consciousness that I possess, is the dimension through which the emptiness of Being is known as Itself. The awake, pristine unqualified Being beyond and through which any experiential content from the sensory organs and mind are felt. Through my chalice you can experience the empty cosmos and likewise experience the full content of your personal story; the infinite holding the finite. I am of the stars bowing to your Soul and I promise that you can be spiritually grounded no matter where you live, the forest or the 27th floor of a building in a big city. It is Source energy descending from the top floor of the crown to the bottom floor of the pelvis. A vertical down descent that transforms all experiences from the personal to the collective to the universal! Alas, my pelvic area has been a challenging one. I have been constantly adjusting from years of crossed legs, tense muscles, held breath, surgeries, and foreign invasions. I am trying to restore harmony and health, but I need help. I am not only carrying tension, but ancestral dis-ease and unfelt emotions. I would ask you, please, please give me your attention to release tension from these layers of history so that I can feel, move, breathe, and celebrate. For I am the vehicle of a forlorn intimacy that is longing to share sacred security and flow. The tiny piece of green sea glass had floated between continents tumbling on to vast and different shores across the globe. With each beach landing she became more and more polished and transparent. She enjoyed each beach for the duration of her stay, following the currents of wind and water that shaped her continuous journey. Occasionally her moves were determined by a person that had picked her up and thrown her, willy-nilly, back into the sea.
One day, at the mercy of the weather, she landed on a tiny island that seemed to promise long, sunny days with few people roaming the beaches. She realized that she did not want to risk floating aimlessly between seashore settings anymore, living with the fear that she might be displaced as a memento or placed in a piece of art! She was excellently practiced at hiding in plain sight which always took some work because of her brilliance and stunning color. It dawned on her that if she were to stay on this tiny island, she would rather come out of hiding to really enjoy the sun and shine with new friends. This seemed paradoxically exciting and frightening all at the same time. She would need trust and a healthy dose of willingness to seek out a potential beaching spot. And this would require agency and choice, two things she knew very little of. She had grown to dislike the subservience to elements that had consummated her insecurity, especially since she longed for the confidence to acknowledge her new longings. She sought counsel with others like her asking how they thought that she could conjure up such courage, but no one had the answer, for they too were exclusively at the whimsy of life. And she worried that any decision made for her own benefit might backfire and in turn come to haunt her for reasons she knew not. But fate and grace had landed her on this beautiful sand spot with the possibility of being gloriously out in the open! She did not know how many days she had left before she was washed down to a sizeable nothing, so she dared to reveal her beautiful green and relaxed; finally, and totally relaxed, napping in the sunshine. She embraced her destiny with no harm done, taking refuge in the equality of her choice intertwined with the mystery of fate. The little dandelion from long ago was so yellow, so small, so innocent looking. She had also developed a unique way of dealing with shock and surprise. The weather could be a surprise, and the audible whispers of those who apparently loved green more than yellow. Her developed strategy was to create and release a tiny seed-like puffball one stress and worry at a time so she could return to peace and radiance whether she was appreciated or not.
Over the years, each time a dandelion let go of stress she became a bit more strategic about her survival and day-to-day living. She had less time to enjoy the sunshine, feel her yellowness and appreciate her seasonal life span. Instead, she spread herself thin by releasing her stress seeds, banking on quantity to survive! She could really survive just about anything, but she needed the support of her kind, rain, sun, and occasionally, maybe, hopefully, the appreciating eye of those who gazed upon her to shine bright. This neediness compromised her simple beauty and she often felt liked even less. Now weather came and went as did insults along with an occasional compliment about her sturdiness. She puffed and spread and hoped that a field of yellow would change how she felt but it did not. It just made her more capable and strategically prouder of her color. Many, many years later there was a new summer dandelion that somehow knew things that all her predecessors had forgotten. She remembered that she was a member of the sunflower family and that her flowers, leaves, and roots had been used for food, medicine, and even dye for thousands of years. And most importantly, she humbly remembered that people blew on their puffballs of stress to grant wishes and send dreams and thoughts to those they love! In knowing this she felt the ground take her roots, the sun warm her petals and she relaxed into a full season of glorious color. She surrendered to all those little shocks and surprises, taking refuge in her place on the earth and under the sun. Today dandelions can be called weeds and they do not care. They can hear voices of complaining and shine just as bright. They can take all the little shocks, and still know from where they came and what they are capable of too. And so now they only develop one puffball at the end of their season – full and proud for anyone to place their hopes and dreams upon. Whether they do or not, the little dandelions all know their place wherever it is that they land in the big, big world of surprises. " I can remember admiring my grandma so much, most especially when I was 15 years old," he shared. "I could feel her justified position of dominance in the family, and I longed for that superior demeanor too. Angry and ornery, grandma would hold her head high letting us know that everyone else had it easier than she did. She did not want things to be as they were and I quietly observed her denying her immediate reality, inside and out with her ‘me against the world’ attitude."
" “I don’t want my life to be this way and I don’t want to be spending my time doing what I must” she would snarl. She tried very hard to secret away her rage, but her body would reveal these feelings in milli-moments that looked quasi demonic and equally as strong." He shared that suppressing rage for her was like holding a beach ball underwater, all day and all night so it pinched, poked, and pulled within her body. His grandma grew to hate her tense body and all its tiring effort to obey her mind’s beliefs and control. She began to limp and walk with a cane. "In truth, she would rather have a life of safety and freedom and especially, one in which she could really appreciate her body." Instead, she passed these positions of mental and physical posturing to her daughter and her children too. "Now I, her proud grandson, was especially tuned in to the unacknowledged rage in the women of the house. It tasted of pain and revenge, and it felt vaguely reminiscent and familiar of a time that I know not of. I was happy to betray anger’s silence and express this hostility where it seemed safe to do so. This gave me power, a way to perpetrate and express this secret vow of the victim. I did it for them and I did it for me. Proudly. Happily. Only it really got me in trouble." " I began to crumble under the weight of punishment, feeling guilty for what mom had to do to cover my tracks," he continued." I could feel my heart sink as I morphed into a victim too watching the women of the house turn into proud guardians of my life. We switched roles and now it was my body and my ego that began to wither." He was aware that pure power was too illusive, that it had not been expressed in his family for many generations. Instead,they experienced power by intertwining the inferior victim and the arrogant bully. He was stymied, hurt, and unable to find a way forward. No one was there to show him a different way to be in his world. So, as he grew he experienced many obstacles that revolved around this impenetrable pattern. One day he married and naturally the pattern continued between him and his new wife. It dawned on him that should they have children, this way of being would continue. Deep in thought, right there and right then he realized; I am the way and the way I am. He repeated it quite a few times, taking it in as a new and inspired revelation. "I am the way and the way I am!" For him it was that simple. In a moment of grace he surrendered to the mystery, saw that he could discipline his mind, and learn to live from his deepest knowing. That is the power of true power. In just a short time he overcame the temptation to dominate others becoming wholly responsible for order and honor. This feeling of power aligned with his Soul from a time and a place that he knew not of, but he felt truly grateful. "Now grandma and mom were a bit befuddled at my new ways" he continued. "They preferred the old way and kept their distance, skeptical of my new life. So much distance that holidays passed without invitations, just cards filled with updates and a picture or two. And that would have to do." The two found themselves incapable of marrying all the parts of themselves, or better their psyche, into a peaceful whole relationship. Each had their disowned shadows that they were comfortable projecting onto the other and frankly neither had a clue. It came as a shock that the one they called ‘soul mate’ was not at all who they believed them to be. Someone had shared with them, perhaps as a warning, that the first marriage is often like that: After a suitable amount of time the unhealed core wounds of both individuals begin to emerge as an expectation of the other. One hurt against the others diminishing the lovers into warring children. Some couples were willing to explore the dynamics of their own personality structure, but most preferred to blame, shame, fight or flee, and this went on for thousands and thousands of years! Out of these years of unresolved conflict and unclaimed polarity that existed in a sea of litigation, a solution slowly emerged. The need for wholeness was so deep, so real that the new humans being born expressed an emergent way to negotiate a peace treaty; a propensity to heal that split in connection with another by healing it within themselves. It developed as an outward expression of fluidity in gender and masculine/feminine expression. Now this all came about without the sage introspect gleaned from exploring the internal shadows of the feminine and masculine essence. The projected feminine unconscious of the male or more masculine partner is projected upon the more feminine partner and the masculine unconscious of a woman/feminine is projected upon the male or masculine partner. In simple terms, the masculine partner blamed the feminine for being too chaotic and the feminine partner blamed the masculine for being too unfeeling. The displaced anima and animus retracted from expectations in a relationship, attempting first an inward potential for unity. And it felt so very good to freely express both aspects to whatever degree the individual preferred. This practically promised that a whole, individuated human could meet another whole without the complications of the shadow, right? But alas it did not work as expected. Somehow the original inadequacy stories persisted, and the unmet needs of the child were still projected onto their now partner. Gravitas yet again slipped out of the hands of the great event called marriage, internally or externally, and disappointment perplexed both parties. Claiming the shadows of polarity within is necessary if we are to survive. Not just the masculine and feminine which holds the promise of wholeness but also of the self and other promising unity. Many strategies have been devised for the experience of unity and wholeness from religions to war to therapy to a life filled with checking off a well-researched bucket list. Unfortunately, it still alludes us that we are all each other’s mirror, reflecting shadow parts from our personal and collective unconscious. We seem to miss the gifts that mature in our collective psyche when we willingly explore our reflections for this would naturally develop into a capacity for real, not imagined, interdependence; a leaning in towards another with the utmost respect without losing our sense of self. The teeny tiny little monkey was a seasoned performer, recognized at an unusually young age for her delightful talents. She was accustomed to seeing her image in a mirror when she practiced and relying on the feedback of her well-intended family, agents, and directors. When she was young, it was easy. She could easily access the inner dimensions of characters, sing, dance and express herself freely. But as she grew, she straddled a thin line between hiding her expressiveness due to critical pointers and the horrible feeling of being on display. It felt as if her whole life had backfired. The monkey was indeed no longer free. And to make things just a bit more complicated, she desired to be wanted so much that the hypercritical inner head voice had a mission. That voice made her feel sterile, critical, and fearful in contrast to simultaneously endeavoring to express herself through her body and her music. She longed for ease, authority, and authenticity. That is how she wanted and needed the audience to perceive her! Performing felt more like sandpaper than the smoothness of clarified butter! She has basked in the realm of the creative process for years accompanied by this double bind of caring. She cared how people saw her and never wanted to be misunderstood as that was the equivalent of rejection, as if they were only zooming in on her ‘flaws’ instead of getting the realness of her performance and message. She so wanted to be free to express her creativity and talents while simultaneously having some guarantee that her people would understand her, no matter what. One evening, after a particularly restricted performance, she realized that her desire to feel free, authentic, connected, and unconcerned about what her followers’ thought was paramount. She could not fake this. It was either real or she continued with the façade as it was. So, in response, the aging little monkey developed a taste for Sake! Two small ‘ochokos’ that helped her to relax her expectations, but she knew well enough – that too felt fake. Certain that her neural pathways were set, yet lamenting a new perspective, the little monkey finally felt big enough to openly, inwardly, inquire into her own self-perception. Her deepest longing was to be understood and her greatest fear was to be misunderstood. She could see that a feeling of urgency, shame, and apologizing were an effect of her dilemma. The little monkey imagined herself embodying this bind directly and knew that her whole persona developed to protect her from the angst of being misunderstood. This had pros and cons, yet the burdens were too great now, so she negotiated her confidence with the fearful part in charge, thanking it too for all the skills she had acquired. She had a big, big performance coming up soon and she really wanted to feel open and free in her musical delivery. She focused gently on the parts that felt misunderstood, holding them with care and grace. All she needed to do was appreciate the feelings of confusion and hurt to melt the projected concerns onto her audience. She felt brave for that performance and picked out an extra special outfit. Her inner work did not necessitate a need for positive affirmations like “I am confident,” so she could relax instead knowing that the part that seeks validation would probably show up and that she would welcome that part with care giving it a place in her heart. As many times as it takes. She would have preferred an on/off switch so that she would not have to deal with the rejection of being misunderstood, but alas, recognized it is more like a dimmer switch. Lessening with each performance, the fearful parts quieted, and she grew to be expressive and beautifully unrestrained on and off the stage! I live from my belly, she said.
To interact with others though, I need to move my attention up and connect from my heart and feel. Then I give too much. I feel exhausted, spent, overwhelmed. How can I live from my heart without losing contact with my own presence, she asked? Will it always be this way? (She’s 12 years old) Perhaps you can live from both! Enough presence to remain connected to your essence. Enough heart to stay connected with others. In perfect balance. Harmony. No sacrifices at all. Together we inquired into the felt sense of this natural state in balance. I asked her, how is this for you? She replied: I love you. And I love me. |
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