At 12:30 a.m. on Sunday morning, June 3, 2012, I wake up and notice that my living room light is again shining through the cracks in my door. When I get up to investigate, I discover Sufi in a state of excited anxiousness as she quickly explains that there is a large spider by her bed, and she cannot sleep with it there. She has been trying unsuccessfully to capture the young arachnid so that she can take it outside to release it.
I giggle when I see the poor frightened spider. It is one of the large, and usually harmless (unless attacked) wall spiders that are extremely common in this part of Guatemala. This one is perhaps three inches across from leg-tip to leg-tip. It is flat, clings tightly to walls, and can move extremely quickly. I first encountered such a frightening spider while at Las Piramides Del Ka, almost two years ago. I was terrified when I first saw one, but now, when I see them, I just smile and sometimes give them a name.
Ten minutes later, I have successfully captured the poor frightened creature, carrying it outside in a peanut butter jar, before releasing it into the vines on the neighbor’s patio (currently unoccupied). I have to actually shake the jar several times because the poor little guy is so frightened he will not let go.
Firmly Tugging Emotions
After going back to a restful-but-restless sleep, I am finally up for the day at 6:15 a.m., again surprised by how emotions are tugging on my semi-low heart. As I sit at my computer, I experience a fierce tug-of-war between futile feelings of wanting to give up versus a strong desire to be happy and productive. Finally, in frustration, I nearly surrender to the giving up.
“I am so stuck in limbo that I can’t stand it,” I ponder in emotional confusion. “I am too far gone from the old world. I know I cannot go back. I cannot even imagine myself wanting to try to squeeze back into those suffocating walls. Yet I still feel like a total loser in the new world. This new world is polluted by a new-age circus that drives me crazy. There is so much ego … and so much magic … and I cannot tell the difference – so I end up seeing it all as craziness.”
“I do not have my sensitivities fully opened,” I continue pondering, “and I am deep in my God drama, projecting all over Keith, Angela, Paul, and others. I feel abandoned, lost, and not wanting to go forward. I have a huge eraser that obliterates all memories of my positive growth. I have lost my passion to go forward … and I do not trust myself anymore.”
The Eternal Laughing Stock
Even in these overwhelmingly futile emotions, I am able to grasp a tiny recognition that these hopeless emotions do not really stem from present-day circumstances. I trust my flow, and decide to “be where I am” and allow them to consume me. I want to know myself more fully, so that I can allow the emotion to be transmuted rather than reenergizing it in another repeat performance at a later date.
As I surrender to the crazy out-of-proportion emotions, several waves of gut-wrenching teeth-chattering tears and dry heaves rage through me. As the emotions shake my inner world, I recognize them for what they are – another layer of pain from a numb, stuck, hopeless, abandoned teenager (me) – a layer on its way up and out.
As I allow the emotion to flow, it becomes intensely real and convincing – profoundly educational in reminding me of the depths of forgotten and repressed pains from my youth.
“I am a fool to think my journey is taking me anywhere,” I begin to project that hopelessness onto present-day circumstances.
“The more I do inner work, the more I am just humiliated,” I continue projecting. “I am a failure. I have not yet made it, and I will never make it. I will never publish a book, never succeed in my passions, and will never be respected – ever again. Right now I feel like the eternal laughing stock of San Marcos, and of the world.”
These teenage emotions are extremely convincing, feeling as if I will never be free of them, as if I am forever doomed to succumb to their suppressive domination.
Swimming In The Swamp
Finally, after allowing myself to experience another intense episode of regressed and eye-opening emotion, I bring in a little light, managing to stabilize myself in a peaceful place.
Soon, as Sufi steps out into the living room, I put down my book and engage in a beautiful and two-way healing conversation – a conversation that reminds me in many ways of why I am so passionate on healing myself so that I can one day shine my light for others.
When the conversation turns to my frustration over those who want to just throw blankets of joy and light all over their densities, pretending that they are not really there, Sufi shares a profound metaphor that inspires me deeply.
Sufi compares our emotional densities to a swamp.
“There are some people who dance around the swamp, pretending it is not there,” Sufi shares with wisdom. “And then there are people who spend their entire life in the swamp, unable to get out.”
“And then there are those who learn to go swimming in the swamp when needed, and then return to dancing when they are done,” Sufi finishes.
“Wow,” I ponder out loud. “After having spent a large percentage of my last eight months swimming in that swamp, I have become a very strong swimmer … but I really want to learn a few more dance moves.”
The whole metaphor reminds me of one Keith occasionally uses – a story of someone who lives in a dirty, crime-and-cockroach infested neighborhood – a story of how it is preferable to move to a nicer, high-vibration neighborhood before trying to clean up the old house.
All It Takes
“How are you doing, Brenda,” Keith asks me when I step into his kitchen to help prepare for a Sunday afternoon chocolate ceremony.
I spend a few minutes filling Keith in on another crazy journey with teenage emotion flowing through me, trying to remain connected to the light with a semblance of sanity.
“I barely managed to maintain a tiny thread of observer awareness as I let that stuff flow through me,” I share with Keith.
“That is all it takes,” Keith reassures me with a smile.
As I finally sit back on my cushions at the start of the ceremony, I begin my process almost immediately.
Protected Personal Space
A very nice thirty-something young man decides to occupy the pillow directly to my left. But he does not sit in the middle of his pillow. He instead sits on the right edge, and then crosses his long legs such that his right knee is protruding deeply into my personal space.
Immediately, I intuitively sense an intense energy of what I perceive as dysfunctional masculine behavior – a behavior of “marking” his space – a masculine energy that is literally overwhelming me. I know the young man is oblivious to his behavior – that he is innocent and genuine in his heart – but I clearly sense an underlying subconscious mandate for him to dominate and announce his presence to me, unknowingly exerting his masculine power over me.
As I ponder whether or not I might be just imagining this, making it all up, I realize that it does not matter. Regardless of true facts, this is triggering something very deep in me – something that I am eagerly prepared to explore.
As I look at the man to again confirm his genuine heart, I feel a dominant intensity in his energy that cannot be described. I then look at all the other men on the porch. I clearly perceive that this intensity is not coming from anywhere else … it is all from this beautiful man on my left.
I scoot my pillow several inches to the right, further blocking the entrance to Keith’s kitchen. Seconds later, I note that the man’s pillow has again moved closer to me. Not only is he following me, but he leans at least six inches to the right, so that his head and right shoulder are also crowding me.
I move over a second time … and again he further crowds me. When I again move, he crosses his legs even wider. I see that his behavior is totally innocent, that he is not even aware of what he is doing – but I feel deeply dominated by his unconscious refusal to grant me my protected personal space.
A Metaphorical Mother
This “space-hogging” and “space-invading” behavior persists for a very long time. I clearly see the whole scenario as a beautifully orchestrated and almost humorous stage play, being acted out for my benefit.
The whole experience takes me deeply into a painful agonizing journey into further understanding how dysfunctional masculine energy has dominated my life, pushing and smothering me under its influence.
As I gaze around the porch, I note with interest that eight of the eleven people now present in the ceremony are men. In fact, we have had an unusually high percentage of men on the porch lately. Even so, not one of the other men on the porch triggers me – other than the handsome young man who is again nearly on top of me.
“My mother had this dysfunctional masculine energy,” I soon ponder a realization from a few ceremonies back. “Her energy dominated my life with masculine power, fixing energy, control, manipulation, and keeping me in line – all done with the purest of intentions – all done in the name of God while trying to mold me into a righteous child. She was doing the best she could, and I gave away all of my power to her.”
“This young man on my left is metaphorically playing my mother for me in profound ways,” I giggle and cringe at the same time.
Unable To Smile
Soon, I observe a beautiful young woman who is giggling across the porch.
By now, inner emotions swell so strongly that I deeply struggle to maintain a connection to the light. An incredible swirl of teenage emotional nightmare is again flowing through me – a flow that is extremely agitating and emotionally painful.
I have established a nice energy connection from my crown down to my heart, but still I struggle to bring in enough light to maintain observer status. I am cycling between going ever deeper while focusing on not getting lost in the swirling swamp.
As I again observe the young woman giggling across the porch, Keith looks at me. I briefly lock eyes with him, and shrug my shoulders in deep frustrated struggle.
“Smile, Brenda,” Keith encourages me in a way that feels more like a loving order.
Suddenly the woman and another young man across the porch burst into strong and loud giggles. I know they are purely in their own energy – but I take this as an innocent childhood reenactment of me being teased and “made fun of” for not being able to smile.
Shame About Smiles
Suddenly, intuitions take me to several agonizing memories from childhood – memories of not being able to smile.
The first memories are clear emotions of how I felt when posing for the camera at age six. It was my first-grade school photo, and I was deeply self-conscious because I absolutely knew that I did not know how to smile right.
“How would I as a six-year-old child come to believe that I did not smile correctly?” I ponder with questioning shock.
“At such a tender young age,” the intuitive clarity flows, “the only reason for believing such an absurd lie is if someone had already teased and taunted me, making me feel shameful about the way I smiled and/or was not able to smile.”
Then I recall how, when I was very young, people used to encourage my sister to go into deep belly laughs because of how much they loved her ability to laugh. I remember feeling deeply jealous, wishing I could laugh like that, absolutely knowing that I could not … that I did not dare even trying to do so. Belly laughing was out of the question. I would be so shamefully embarrassed. Such memories are very clear, but I can only speculate as to the exact age. Circumstances lead me to believe I was no more than five years old, or perhaps even younger, when such insecurities already ran rampant in my tiny broken heart.
“I would never have felt so stupid about how I smiled if someone had not made fun of me for the way I did not, or could not, do it correctly,” I again ponder with profound clarity.
“Wow,” I continue pondering. “I know my older brother teased me ruthlessly. Perhaps this came from him. And I know I cried a lot. Perhaps I simply could not smile because of all the intense empath emotion … and perhaps I was just taunted and ridiculed for not being able to smile through all the sadness.”
Childhood Projections
The emotions I now feel in the midst of this self-exploration are so strong that I desperately want to burst into tears. I struggle to maintain a connection to the light as this emotional journey takes me deeper.
But I do not feel safe opening the tear floodgates. Several recent criticizing attacks from others, along with gossip around town, have caused me to feel deeply self-conscious about public tears. I know I am projecting childhood “fear of crying” onto others, but in the past week, it feels as if even Keith has slammed me for allowing the emotions to flow.
I decide to follow this childhood projection idea a little deeper.
“As a child, I really was not allowed to cry,” I ponder clear memories of crying uncontrollably while my mother tried to ‘help’ me to stop.
“I was scolded and made fun of for being a crybaby,” I ponder, “teased and emotionally tortured for crying with no reason. I clearly remember my mother’s loving impatience and frustration when I cried, and I absolutely recall my intense fear of my brother’s ‘harmless’ teasing.”
I valiantly continue this deep-swamp diving, barely hanging on to an observer thread. The emotions are so intense that I feel quite insane and crazy – but I dive even deeper.
Time To Work
Soon, my heart glows with gratitude when I glance up and notice that Keith is reaching out his left hand shaped in a slightly cupped formation, focusing a flow of energy in my direction.
A few minutes later, he places that same hand on the top of my crown, holding it there, sharing beautiful energy with me for at least fifteen minutes. Finally, as I feel my energy stabilizing, Keith lifts his hand from the top of my head and backs away slightly, eventually removing his hand entirely.
When I am finally energetically stable, I glance up at Keith, make eye contact, and note that he is grinning back at me.
“Alrighty then, let’s start some individual work,” Keith immediately pipes in as he stands up.
I find it hard to believe that I have already done so much processing, yet we have just finished the “Glow Meditation” plus perhaps a half hour of silent meditation.
“Brenda, how are you doing today?” Keith asks before quickly disappearing into the kitchen, not giving me an opportunity to reply.
A Dangling Plug
A minute later, Keith returns to the porch and sits on the ground in front of me. I quickly fill him in on the “masculine energy” and “mother/brother” insights, while not sharing any information regarding the man on my left who made it all possible.
“As a child, I was ridiculed for being in joy, and ridiculed for crying,” I share profound insight with Keith.
“Congratulations for your primo processing,” Keith respond with a grin. “Take the joy thing to a different level … expand this understanding to other areas.”
For several minutes, Keith guides me in meditation, trying to help me find the place where I disconnected my joy.
“I am feeling, and even almost seeing a visual of an electric cord coming out my nail-in-my-heart spot, dangling with a disconnected plug that just hangs in front of me,” I soon share unexpected insights. “Because of the pains in my solar plexus, I get the feeling that this cord is supposed to be plugged in there.”
“Good, Brenda,” Keith responds before moving on. “Work with that.”
Sheer Timing
I struggle for a while, trying to imagine the cord being plugged back into my solar plexus, but I am unable to complete the visualization. Finally, after a long while, I just fake it and imagine myself forcing the metaphorical electric plug back into its proper place. With continued imagination, I hold the cord securely.
As I engage in this meditative process, I experience considerable pains in my solar plexus – most of which were already manifesting before the meditation – but now the pains are spreading, down the center of my belly, through the belly button, and all the way to the bottom of my abdomen.
“Whenever I begin to want to express joy, I find myself second guessing as to whether or not it is safe to do so,” Intuitive feelings suddenly flood my mind. “I am terrified that expressing joy will result in someone making me feel stupid, maybe even ridiculing me, etc…”
Within two seconds of this insight flashing into my mind, Keith, who is now across the porch, suddenly turns around with a glowing glance.
“What’s up?” He asks with profound recognition.
His sheer synchronous timing clearly tells me that he is paying close attention to my energy.
A Pushed-Out Self
After acknowledging Keith’s perfect timing, I explain my fresh profound insights.
“Take that ‘joy’ metaphor even deeper, into other areas of your life,” Keith again encourages before returning to what he was doing across the porch.
“This was not just about my joy,” I get a sudden insight about ten minutes later. “It also encompassed all creative, intuitive, right-brained, heart-based, imaginative expression. Before allowing myself to engage in any such activities, I always flinched (and still do) with fearful wondering if my expression would be received as genuinely intended, or if it would get me into trouble in some unexpected way.”
“I was absolutely terrified to do anything creative like that,” I ponder while actually experiencing the inner fright.
“Brenda,” Keith guides me a few minutes later. “Find a way to bring back some of that ‘pushed-out self’ that you lost as a child. Ask your Higher Self to help you.”
I clearly know that Keith is encouraging me to engage in what many shamans call soul retrieval – but as Keith describes it, nothing was actually lost. Instead, in an effort to protect precious energetic parts of me from harmful scarring, I pushed them out as a child, leaving them in the care of a loving Higher Self for safekeeping.
Chocolate Necco Wafers
As I engage in the process, expressing my intent for the assistance of my Higher Self, I also invite my little inner children, Bobby and Sharon, to join me in my heart … asking them to giggle and be joyful with me … to help pushed-out parts of us to return.
Soon, new subconscious metaphors begin to guide me.
I suddenly realize that, as a child (and an adult), I did not have much sweetness or joy in my life. Giggling intuitions quickly guide me to find a fun and very sweet metaphorical way to bring this energy back inside me, from the crown to my root chakra.
I first imagine one of my favorite childhood candies, yummy chocolate Necco wafers. I also enjoyed the non-chocolate varieties, but the chocolate variety was my absolute preference.
In smiling meditation, I feel the thin wafers dissolving in a flavorful burst on my tongue before crunching down with my teeth on their chalky texture – soon swallowing them slowly down my throat, all the way to my stomach and lower chakras – magically bringing sweetness and joy back to all of the chakras along the way.
Then, I imagine a small column of chocolate Necco wafers stacked on each of my chakras, feeling them absorb into my energy field. Next, I bring in a black licorice image that lines a channel from crown to root. At the top of the licorice channel, I imagine a funnel into which I pour a bubbling root beer float into the core of that licorice tube.
I play with this “sweetness” metaphor for a long while.
Playful, Imaginative Memories
Suddenly, new intuitive guidance takes me to the age of ten … when I first moved from Western Colorado to a small rural farming town in the deserts of central Washington State.
Clear memories begin to flow through me – memories reminding me of how, as a tender fifth grade boy, I almost always hung out with the girls while on the playground during recess. While the rest of the boys were off doing whatever macho things they did, I was playing make-believe with the girls. One of my favorite activities was creating an imaginary house on the playground field, lining walls and entryways with sticks or coats. Then we would role-play a family, engaging in play-acting while joyfully giggling and fantasizing. The only thing I would have changed is that I hated the implied expectation that I always had to play the role of father or brother … but I did not dare suggest otherwise.
Only one or two other boys ever joined me in playing with the girls. It was not until sixth grade, at age eleven, when I began to realize that felt ostracized and confused by how I did not fit in with the boys.
“As an innocent ten-year-old, I still had an imagination.” I ponder with surprise. “I had a fun and silly personality, and I loved teasing people. I clearly remember laughing in the classroom, and being quite social with the girls – and I clearly remember not relating to the games and activities of the boys. In fact, I believed some of their behaviors were stupid and even appalling.”
A Spark Of Joy
“It was somewhere between age ten and early age eleven when this final imagination and playfulness were slammed out of me,” I ponder with profound clarity. “It was not until I was ridiculed, ostracized, and teased for being different – most of which was done in a very casual and subtle way – that I began to close the final doors on my magical self. By early age eleven, long before the gender struggles consumed me, that playful magic became my horrifying self-hatred and shame. In fact, it was only after the outward feminine behavior was squelched that the gender struggles turned inward.”
Until this meditation, I had mostly forgotten how I had been such a feminine, playful, and teasing boy. Prior to age ten, I felt happy and accepted while surrounded by people with whom I grew up. It was only after moving states and schools – going through puberty while trying to fit in with new friends – that I began to recognize and reject my own magical and sensitive feminine side.
To put things back in perspective, I clearly remind myself that I was obviously extremely self-conscious as a young first-grader – already deeply shut down and conditioned by culture and religion – already a rule robot striving to win the love and approval of mother and God.
“But at age ten,” I remember with a grin, “I really did have a small spark of that inner joy still glowing inside. Even with all the painful conditioning, some of my joy and imagination had survived – only to be destroyed later.”
Inappropriate Anger
The beautiful insights continue flowing while high vibration energy saturates my soul.
Meanwhile, I start to pay close attention when Keith begins to work with a young man – one that I will call Tim. Almost immediately after receiving the focus, Tim begins to share details of his life story, rambling incessantly as he shares story after story of feeling like an alien, not fitting in, suffering social fears and dysfunction, being ignored, etc…
It is obvious that this young man has suffered greatly from the prejudices of others – both cultural and racial. A man in the group suggests that he needs to get angry to help move out some of the pain. Many begin to tone various sounds, encouraging him to do the same.
“I just do not feel safe doing that right now,” Tim responds humbly.
“Come on Tim,” Paul suddenly jumps in with an angry yell, “go into the anger, you need to yell and scream, blah, blah, blah. Your culture has a history of repressing their anger, blah, blah, blah.”
Paul’s energy is filled with personal rage – rage that to me feels extremely inappropriate for this level of work. He is almost yelling AT Tim rather than encouraging him to safely access his angry emotions.
Restoring Power
Suddenly another beautiful young man from the same cultural background jumps into the conversation. I will call this young man “Lee.”
“Paul,” Lee protests with firmness. “I really wish you would stop using that generalized metaphor about my culture. It is just not true.”
To my shock, Paul begins screaming with rage, ranting and angrily defending himself for a couple of minutes, insisting that he is right and that Lee has no right to attack him.
Lee soon lashes back in self-defense, causing Paul to again scream in attack. Lee soon disengages, showing energetic signs and facial expressions of feeling dejected, rejected, confused, and stunned. As I observe, I giggle while remembering my own “Profound Glimpse Of Grace” that I just barely finished publishing – a situation where Paul had screamed even more viciously at me.
“Lee … take your power back,” I soon jump in with loving advice. “You have let go of the high vibrations that you were in just a few minutes ago.”
“But I don’t want to engage in more yelling,” Lee replies with confusion.
“No, I respond with a giggle. “It is not done that way. You gave away your power on the inside by engaging in the defensive exchange. Take back your power on the inside. Find your INNER connection to that power … to your Source.”
Lee quickly resonates with my words, and goes into deep inner meditation. Remembering my own glimpse of grace, I radiate loving energy in Lee’s direction while he gradually returns to a glowing radiant energy of his own.
Re-Glimpsing Grace
“That was NOT tiger energy,” Keith firmly reprimands Paul.
Keith then spends several minutes speaking to the group, teaching about how both love and anger can have healthy and unhealthy expressions – sharing how both are healthy when expressed appropriately, and both are unhealthy when expressed inappropriately.
In the interest of privacy, I will spare the details … but I am deeply gratified when Keith spends a while discussing behaviors in generic ways, lovingly trying to make a point that could be ignored by someone who is not open to hearing the truth … and that could be deeply useful for someone honestly willing to look inside.
As the palpable tension on the porch begins to settle, I continue to light up with radiating, glowing energy. I am deeply energized by the whole experience, repeatedly returning to that glimpse-of-grace sensation of how wonderful it feels to bask in Divine love while not taking such external situations and energies personally.
I giggle inside when I see that Lee is now smiling again. Soon, Tim resumes his incessant and rambling storytelling.
A Beloved Mirror
It is a beautiful continuous monolog of sharing.
At first I am surprised that Keith simply sits back and allows Tim to share stories like this – but it soon becomes clear to me that not only is this profoundly therapeutic for Tim, but it is deeply inspiring my own process.
Literally everything that this beautiful-but-shutdown young man says about his being a social reject, not fitting in, feeling people’s prejudice, being called ‘girly’, etc… – literally everything (at least at the emotional level) describes ME in my youth – externally mirroring my youth in profound clarity.
“Tim, I am so grateful for your sharing,” I interrupt at one appropriate breaking point. “I relate so deeply to all of your pains. They are NOT silly like you imply. I feel honored to hear your story.”
Tim goes on and on. I love and inhale every word. I imagine myself filling my heart with overflowing radiant love for this young man, seeing him as the mirror of my beloved Bobby as a ten-year-old, and as an older teenager.
Internalizing Mirrored Love
As my heart radiates, I feel the love consume that nail-in-my-heart spot.
“Heart,” I silently request, “I do not have a clue how to work with this love … but I know that you do. Please, do what you do best.”
I feel deep power in my heart as I step out of rational mind, surrendering control to another part of me.
Without exchanging a single word, Keith suddenly looks over at me and glows a huge grin at what I am doing.
Eventually, I focus the same metaphor, asking my heart to bring in intense self-love.
“If I can love this external reflection so profoundly, seeing Tim with such love, realizing that I can love this mirror of Bobby without conditions,” I ponder with power, “then I can also find that same love for Bobby on the inside.”
I spend the entire remainder of this beautiful chocolate ceremony focusing on both self-love and external unconditional love. When I feel energetically lacking, I ask Higher Self to please ramp the energies up a level. I still feel as I am not at full strength, that there is more to come – but I accept myself where I am at, radiating what I have in this moment.
A Superhero
I can only giggle that Tim is still talking when the ceremony finally winds down to closure.
“Sometimes I wish I were a superhero,” Tim shares a genuine desire.
“Tim,” I interrupt, “just like Peter Parker or Clark Kent, there IS a very magical and powerful Superman or Spiderman-like superhero inside of you. Believe that … trust that.”
As these words leave my lips, I realize that such magic also resides in me, as it does in all of us.
Giggling While Gobbling
When the ceremony concludes, I hang back to share details of my amazing journey with Keith.
“Thanks for such beautiful examples of being present in the way you handled the group today,” I grin with profound sincerity. “I learned so much by observing the way you worked with me, how you allowed Tim to ramble in his beautiful process, and in how you handled Paul’s angry outburst. All of it was perfect. The entire porch today was a beautiful and personal stage play for me. Every single person seemed to play a magical role in my own process.”
“Your work today was really powerful,” Keith congratulates me with a grin as I begin to walk away.
As I walk homeward bound, I revel in the memory of how, early in the ceremony, Keith had looked at me and mentioned that I was doing “primo processing.” But I realize I was only following the flow. I showed up with an open heart and mind, responding from my heart to every clue and situation that was presented in the mirror.
It all started when feeling invaded by the unconscious “space marking” of masculine energy. It flowed from one step to the next, guided by external reflections and inner intuitions, taking me to deep insights of joyful memories around age ten. And I can only giggle when I ponder how a beautiful young man provided me an external mirror of that beautiful young boy named Bobby – one that I am finally beginning to truly love.
“Wow,” I giggle as I gobble down a plate of rice and beans, feeling energies, and glowing with hope.
“What an amazing day!” I smile with a hint of pure joy. “It was a day filled with magical metaphors and inner mirrors that guided me with synchronous precision. I could never have dreamed up such an experience with rational mind.”
Copyright © 2012 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved