As I wake up on Monday morning, July 16, 2012, a sense of rebellion fills my soul. I am so tired of writing. I have written eleven blogs in fourteen days and I need a break … at least a tiny rest.
After a morning of internet, a few games, a bowl of oatmeal with papaya, and some Spanish study, I begin to contemplate what I will do next. Finally, just before noon, strong intuitive feelings tell me that today is an ideal day for me to make another journey with Magic Mushrooms – to see if just maybe I can make more progress in working with that stubborn logical-mind control that will not allow me to relax.
Today, I take a slightly higher dose than I took last week, again hoping that I might have a more powerful experience than the last.
(Note: If you want to judge me on this topic, and you have not yet read my previous blog titled “A Personal Stage Play,” please take a moment to read that one first. Then, if you still feel inclined to do so, judge away. I seek no outside validation or approval in what, for me, is a genuine journey of self-discovery.)
Inopportune Moments
Less than an hour after I take the mushrooms – on a day where I crave alone time and privacy – my dear roommate shows up unannounced, and with friends. She has been staying at a friend’s house for a few days, and I had expected that she would be gone longer. This unexpected disturbance to my privacy comes with such synchronous timing that it almost makes me laugh.
“This is the story of my life,” I giggle with frustration. “Here I am, doing something “culturally forbidden” and my privacy is invaded. This is a perfect mirror of what happened to me throughout childhood and youth, and even my marriage – especially when attempting to explore my “forbidden” gender struggles. It seemed that “adult supervision” always showed up at the most inopportune moments. I had no right to privacy during most of my life.”
It is clear to me that the universe is giving me a profound opportunity to make a new choice … to release more of the emotional charges of my youth … to remember that rather than feeling upset and being a victim, that I can simply own my loving power, share my truth with heart-based confidence, and love whatever happens.
I am quite proud of myself when I soon lovingly express my feelings to my roommate – sharing my genuine desire for uninterrupted privacy. A short while later I again have my apartment to myself, and all is well.
A Repeat Performance
As I continue the mushroom experience, I quickly realize that my head is still in charge, not letting me relax, surrender, or enjoy. My logical-minded head is that same “invader of privacy,” refusing to allow me a moment of time alone with my heart. The experience is quite similar to the one I had last week. A lot of strong and involuntary energy pulses through my body, but I am not going anywhere with it. Finally, in frustration, again giving up on the idea of a “psychedelic trip,” I decide to pursue normal, everyday (for me), subconscious journeying.
Soon, a whole new series of metaphors intuitively flood my mind. For a couple of weeks now, I have used spare/ down time to begin watching another television series – one that I found hidden among the computer files given to me by a friend. This one is titled, “Merlin” and was originally produced by BBC television in 2008. This series tells the story of a young Arthur and Merlin during a time when Uther Pendragon (Arthur’s father) was the King.
Uther Pendragon had an obsessive hatred for magic. He had lived in a time when evil sorcerers had used dark magic to gain power and to harm others … and he could not possibly imagine that any magic could ever have a positive and loving purpose. In fact, King Uther hated magic so much that anyone caught using magic in any way was executed without question – no matter who they were. In the meantime, Merlin was Arthur’s humble servant, struggling to use his magic to keep Arthur alive and out of trouble, while trying to keep his secret safe in order to preserve his own life.
Metaphorical Faces
I have always loved magical stories, but it is not until in the middle of this meditation that the metaphors suddenly hit me so strongly.
“King Uther represents the ego conditioning of the world – the voice in my head that will not surrender control – the dysfunctional power-hungry masculine side – the micromanaging part of me that cannot and will not trust my inner magic,” I ponder with giggling clarity. “This part of me would literally destroy anything magical.”
“And Merlin represents the forbidden magical side of me – the heart-based, intuition-connected, healthy feminine side – the part of me that was my real strength, but which had to remain hidden in order to survive,” The profound parallels continue to unfold. “As I attempt to give Merlin a genuine voice in my life, there yet remains a great deal of fear and mistrust because of what happened in the past.”
“And Arthur (future King Arthur) represents the loving healthy masculine side of me,” I ponder with a giggle. “His heart was so pure, and he had the desire, along with the strength and power to be an amazing and benevolent King who would serve and love his subjects. Yet his father (Uther) could not honor and respect that purity.”
I have a delightful time exploring these metaphors for an hour or two. The journey provides such clarity, putting understandable faces on what are very real internal energies – inner aspects of self that are striving for healing and balance.
Exploring Gender Balance
Soon, I focus solely on the integration of masculine and feminine aspects of self – doing so while at the same time accessing sacred symbolism from the “Tree of Life” – the core of the Kabbalah studies that I engaged in here at the pyramids two years ago. (Note, we did not study the pure Jewish version – instead we studied the “mystical” version, which includes a study of Tarot and many other mystical topics.)
There are two sepiroth (spheres) in the “Tree of Life” that aptly represent the masculine and feminine energies. Geborah represents the strong right arm of the masculine side, the side that makes the difficult choices to eliminate things in our life that do not serve the higher good. Chesed represents the loving left arm of the feminine side, the side that is the loving ruler, doing all he/she can to bless the kingdom with loving abundance in all areas.
After exploring the deep metaphorical symbolisms of these energies, I then visualize “The Lovers” card from the Ryder Waite Tarot deck. Through symbolic imagery, the card clearly shows how the masculine and feminine stand together … but the masculine side looks into the eyes of the feminine for guidance, while the feminine side looks into the eyes of Higher Powers above, seeking that same guidance.
“Metaphorically speaking, the masculine strength and power without the feminine heart can do nothing but destroy,” I ponder. “And the feminine heart without the masculine power behind her can really not create much of anything at all. True joy and abundance comes from that divine balance between both aspects of self … between my masculine and feminine sides … between power/strength and heart … between logic and heart-based knowing.”
I giggle as I remember how Keith has frequently reminded me that the logical mind is a very valuable tool, but that it is not the tool to use when working with Higher Energies … when connecting with my heart.
Common Ground
I play with this feminine/masculine exploration for some time, spiraling deeper and deeper into clear metaphorical understanding of the inner balance toward which I am moving.
Finally, I feel these two sides of myself beginning to find some loving common ground.
It is clear that my feminine side still has growth to traverse in learning to trust her magic, and in learning to open and share her magical gifts with the world. And it is also clear that my masculine side still struggles to access and to own his own loving power – to stop giving away his strength by seeking outside validation from an external reality. But it is also clear that the two continue to harbor a certain amount of distrust toward each other. That is an ongoing and magical work in progress.
Flash From The Past
As I continue pondering, I suddenly remember an experience back in about 1980, when I was a newly graduated software engineer, perhaps twenty-five years old, in the second or third year of my career. I was an extremely talented young engineer, already making major contributions to my project. The manager of my team was leaving to pursue other interests, and I was deep in conversation with one of the prime candidates to replace him. In fact, I too was considered a candidate at the time.
“If I were made manager,” I shared with my friend Nick, “I would see my function as serving the group … as doing everything I could do to enable the group to succeed while seeing myself as only a facilitator and an organizer.”
At the time, I had been shocked when Nick slammed me, telling me that my method was a sign of weakness … that it would never work in a business environment.
“Society believes that power needs to be used to control and manipulate other people,” I pondered at that time, feeling deep confusion, “but in my mind, true power does not control or manipulate, it serves the people.”
After that conversation, I never let go of my beliefs about true power being a servant to others … but I learned quickly to never share such beliefs with others who lived in that particular cultural box, ever again.
Force, Form, And Guidance
“Wow,” I ponder in the present as I look back at the past. “It truly is an upside down and backwards world out there. I had somewhat forgotten, but I have always believed that a healthy masculine side is a tool, a servant to others, doing so through the guidance of the feminine heart. But I was raised in a culture where the opposite was the norm – where the heart was scorned as a sign of rejected folly and weakness.”
“The masculine energy is the gasoline for my car,” I ponder another metaphorical thought, “and the feminine form is the car itself. But even with all the fuel in the world, I will not get anywhere if I do not have divine guidance to help me know where to go. I definitely need the fuel to serve, and the car as a vehicle of form, but that divine connection to source is what allows me to truly move forward in joyfully pursuing the inner passions of my heart.”
As I ponder this latest metaphor, I giggle as I remember back to my studies of the Kabbalah – studies that clearly indicated that the masculine energy was the force, and that the feminine was the form – and that both, in balance, were necessary to create.
Worrywart Wonders
After a long, magical, and insight-filled meditation, I suddenly I sink into massive “worrywart” energy as memories of recent stage-play dramas flood my mind – recent events during this or that chocolate ceremony where my buttons had been abrasively pushed by well-meaning individuals.
As the pain-filled emotional memories swarm my awareness, I first begin to feel anger toward that worrywart energy – an energy that I perceive as being the masculine controller/ micromanager in my life that needs things to be a certain way or else I cannot and will not be happy. This worrywart energy essentially gives away all of my power to the situation itself.
Then, I suddenly realize that this worrywart energy is a frightened little boy who feels desperately cornered by dysfunctional masculine power. He is cowering in fear, trying to serve with genuine heart-based integrity, trying to please those in power … and trying to help others to also please those in power.
“The worrywart is not the dysfunctional micromanaging masculine,” I ponder with clarity. “The worrywart is the wounded part of me that is terrified of not pleasing that dysfunctional masculine – terrified of the consequences that will follow if the micromanager in others is not appeased and pleased.”
“That innocent worrywart needs my love,” I ponder with wonder. “He is the wounded product of the upside down and backwards victimization – not the dysfunctional perpetrator of the pain and fear.”
As I further ponder past memories, I clearly remember countless situations where I deeply worried, almost in a panic – all with a goal of protecting myself and/or others from the consequences of someone else who was judgmental or angry at the time.
“Wow,” I again ponder the turnaround in perspective. “That worrywart in me has been maliciously maligned all these years … but all along he was a frightened and genuine little boy simply trying to serve and protect others from doing something that had gotten him in trouble.”
An Inside Power Drain
Later, after taking a much-needed break for physical nourishment, I resume this deep meditation – a meditation that lasts right up until bedtime.
As I ponder how I have given away nearly all of my power, throughout my life, it is no wonder that my “magical theme park” has no power source – that my power center has a “blown fuse” – that my “protective shields” are draining all of the power reserves. But as I again revisit all of these “powerful” metaphors that have come up during my inner work, I suddenly realize that the “external” draining of my power (how I give power away to others) is nothing more than an external mirror of how I do the same thing on the inside.
“I continue to give away a great deal of my power to inner fears, doubts, judgments, and debates,” I ponder with profound clarity. “Wow, it is time for me to clean up my energetic world on the inside. It really is an inside job.”
Eventually, after a very vivid and productive meditation, I rest on my pillow and drift off to sleep.
Distracted Focus
Tuesday, during a trip to Panajachel for banking and shopping, I can only giggle at a beautiful opportunity to use a reliable internet connection to Skype with a dear friend – yet another magical three-hour conversation. I love how my continued growth is allowing me to share in the healing of others – to be an inspiration in their own parallel journeys.
Later Tuesday afternoon, and pretty much all day Wednesday, I surrender to exhaustion and rebellion at writing … instead following guidance to further immerse myself in additional episodes of the “Merlin” television series.
I loved my meditation experiences on Monday, but the continued energy released by the mushrooms seems to linger in ways that distract me. I do not try to analyze or understand them, but the energies in my head continue to swirl and make me almost dizzy – demanding my attention – distracting my focus.
Yes, I did indeed experience deep clarity during that meditative journey – but no, just as before, I do not feel that the clarity lasted as long after the fact, and I do not especially like how my focus continues to be so distracted by ongoing, opening energies. While I still love how Magic Mushrooms have given me glimpses, I am now more convinced than ever that I much prefer chocolate as my journeying partner.
Another Healing Integration
But another reason for my distracted focus is that I do not really look forward to my next writing task.
Finally, on Thursday, I force myself to go deep into the excruciating integration as I write and publish “An Excruciating Emotional Reality.”
The writing journey takes me, once again, deep into the agonizing emotional pain of a twelve-year-old me – a “mini-me from the past” who had just gone through a profoundly humiliating swimming pool incident (written about in “Sordid Social Secrets”) and who was now experiencing the deep excruciating reality of wishing that I were dead.
As I write about this painful experience, I again re-experience another layer of the emotion as this reality flows through me. I am astounded by the depth of the unfelt and unexpressed suicidal emotions that had consumed my youth – that had been an underlying theme of emotional dysfunction throughout my life.
As the day finishes … as I finally click on the “publish button” … I relish in the joy of having once again completed another beautiful healing integration. I absolutely love how each time that I pass through these nightmares from the past, I derive new and profound healing.
Shifting Triggers
Early Thursday evening, when my wireless internet source dies, I walk down to the nearby internet café to seek loving resolution.
To my shock, just as I step back onto the path to return to my apartment, Paul happens to be walking by. Had I not been synchronously forced out of my apartment because of an internet outage I would have missed the entire experience.
“Brenda, I am leaving early tomorrow morning, and I would like to hug you goodbye before I go,” Paul shocks me with his joyful and loving innocence.
Soon, I eagerly give my young projection-buddy a warm hug. Paul seems quite happy and excited to be following his heart in a new direction, and I can feel his joy and excitement.
I am deeply grateful for the growth that I have achieved as a result of Paul having played the other end of my painful scripts – and I am even strangely grateful for his constant triggering that painfully and repeatedly pushed every one of my core-issue buttons. I am now quite clear that his divinely manifested presence has served me in profound ways.
But a part of me is also quite joyful to see my sparring partner following his heart in a new direction. I clearly recognize, however, that if I have more painful growth to be triggered, that I will skillfully manifest another projection-buddy. I would love to believe that this might no longer be necessary. Only time will tell.
Another Layer
Friday, with continued internet problems, I attempt to write anyway, but as I do so, intense energies swirl around in my head, and my solar plexus swells with sharp pains – pains that had begun in a mild fashion late last night.
Finally, unable to do much of anything else, I spend another day watching videos. As Sufi returns later in the evening, we begin to talk about social issues, and the possibility of doing our own chocolate ceremonies here in San Marcos during the period where Keith is gone.
To my shock, this entire conversation triggers a deep “Hell No” response in me. It seems that I am once again running paranoia-based, deeply-painful, teenage emotional realities through me. The frustrating dilemma is that the emotions that suddenly surge through me are so powerful and convincing that I want to believe them … I want to reenergize them and to make them real.
“I am such a social loser that I simply do not effing care about life,” the voices again scream through my head.
For the next hour or so, everything around me pushes my buttons and triggers inner resentments – whether it is Sufi innocently singing in the shower, or Friday night social noises echoing through the town.
“Duh,” I finally ponder, “Just yesterday I wrote about excruciating suicidal feelings from age twelve. What I am feeling is just another intense layer of that never-before-felt emotion running through me. It is not real in the present … it is just an old reality that I need to feel so that it can leave.”
Emotions Flow Through Me
Soon, I step into my bedroom and crank up my IPOD. I am ready to detach from the emotions and allow them to flow unobstructed. While doing so I plan to listen to soothing, healing songs.
But as I listen to the second song on my playlist, the surging emotion is so strong that I can do nothing but surrender. To my shock, the intense suicidal feelings cause me to pseudo-vomit emotional energy for ten nonstop minutes. Agonizing dry heaves consume me and I can barely breathe during the occasional inhaling gasps that I manage to take.
“Wow that layer was strong,” I ponder when the excruciating emotions subside. “How did I possibly survive that period of my life?”
Soon, I am back in the living room, talking to Sufi, explaining my crazy triggers and the process through which I am passing.
“You are going to be a master healer when you finish this,” Sufi congratulates me for the depth to which I am journeying.
I desperately need to hear such feedback right now, because the emotions running through me are so strong that I can barely remind myself that I am not a major loser.
Emotional Clinging
Shortly before 10:00 p.m., as I continue to meditate, I now feel much lighter.
But then, I am shocked by an intuitive recognition that part of me really does not want to give up this emotion … it wants to hang on to it … to keep it. This part of me wants an apology first … it wants to heal this reality before letting it go.
“No,” I talk back to this part. “We do not need to micromanage this process. We do not need to go into and feel every last emotion before we release it. It is time to let this emotion go now – to give it to the light. If the light does not take it and transmute it, then I will go deeper into it. But it is time to release the insane belief that I have to personally feel and heal every emotion before I can let it go.”
Finally, I drift off to sleep, and sleep more soundly than I have done in several days.
An Energy Pressure Cooker
Saturday morning, July 21, 2012, I feel better than I have felt in a long time. During a beautiful early morning healing conversation with Sufi, I note that my inner wisdom is now grounded and flowing with loving peace. I feel delighted that I am again able to resume my writing, eventually publishing “Surviving Distraction.” I continue to marvel at how writing about past events so closely synchronizes with present day processing.
Sunday morning, after a short Skype call to yet-another dear friend, I sit down at my computer, hoping to write for the second day in a row. But as I do so, I am overwhelmed and struggling with intense energy that swirls with distractions in my head. I am so dysfunctional that I cannot even bring myself to read my previous blog.
As Sufi steps out into the living room, intuitive guidance strongly tells me that “today is not a writing day” … that instead I should engage her in conversation. We talk nonstop for several hours, after which I take a much needed nap.
At 4:30 p.m., as I return to the waking world, Sufi and I begin to discuss the possibility of shared dinner plans. As we talk, it soon becomes obvious that each of us is experiencing an intense energy explosion in our head. I describe it as feeling as if my head is locked inside of a pressure cooker. Sufi compares it to the intensity of a massive storm brewing outside.
In the presence of this overwhelming shared energy, neither of us can commit to dinner plans, so in my starvation, I quickly opt to cook up a quick plate of rice and beans for myself.
“The energy has shifted so much,” Sufi comments a while later. “The pressure is so much lighter now.”
As I listen to Sufi’s observation, I suddenly realize that the intense pressure in my head has also lifted. I giggle as I realize that I am becoming so much more sensitive to energies … and that my own personal experience is so profoundly validated by that of another.
The Almighty Time And Money
For the next few hours, Sufi and I engage in delightful conversation about the concept of “following time commitments no matter what” versus “being present in the moment, and being willing to shift plans based on intuitive guidance, even if it means standing someone up.”
As we talk and talk, I feel inner resistance begin to rumble inside as I ponder giving up yet another layer of social conditioning – one so deeply engrained in my behavior that letting it go causes me to cringe inside.
It is a beautiful conversation – one that causes us to both rethink many social rules about “time commitments to others.”
Soon, I grab my watch and place it on the floor between us. Remembering a silly experience I had with my friend Joy, in April 2011, I bow down to that watch and respectfully say, “All hail the might clock God.”
For the next hour, Sufi and I laugh and giggle with profound insights as we further discuss how, in our society, we literally do worship the clock, even to the point of worshiping it more than our own inner guidance. Soon, we bring money worship into the silly mockery. It boggles my mind how such basic concepts as time and money have so much overwhelming and subtle conditioning hidden behind them. It takes great courage to stray from such societal beliefs.
As I later prepare for bed, I giggle as I clearly recognize the synchronous setups that guided this day to be out of the ordinary – to be a day of exploring social conversation, profoundly shared energetic experience, and deep-but-giggling discussion into the absurdities of our cultural beliefs about time and money.
Surprising Hidden Emotion
After a beautiful Monday of writing and publishing “Owning The Game”, I find myself again staring at my computer early Tuesday morning while contemplating my next writing task.
I begin to read my notes about a bizarre dream where Angela and I had gone to the yoga retreat center to perform a chocolate ceremony – but where Keith had not even shown up and then Angela had abandoned me with inadequate supplies or preparation.
As I immerse myself into memories of this crazy dream, deep and overwhelming emotions begin to consume me. By the time I finish reviewing my notes, I am lost in sobbing – deep gut-wrenching, dry-heaving, hardly-able-to-breathe emotional release that goes on for at least ten or fifteen minutes.
I am experiencing another layer of deep God-drama emotion – issues of abandonment, betrayal, hopelessness, and my refusal to play in that arena any longer – at least not until God apologizes.
I had no idea so much emotion remained hidden around this issue.
Profound And Plentiful
Rather than fight the emotion, I surrender to it, diving in headfirst, allowing it to flow through me and out of me. Finally, when the raging river of pain dries up, I immerse myself in deep meditation, further analyzing the dream and its supporting symbolism.
The insights are profound and plentiful – deep insights that I use in my blog when I eventually regain my strength to write about the experience – but that will not happen for three more days – not until Friday when I finally write and publish “Profound Parallels.”
Finally, after a beautiful discussion with Sufi about my ongoing emotional journey, I surrender the remainder of my Tuesday to the watching of three nonstop movies. I feel emotionally hammered, physically drained, unmotivated, exhausted, and weak. This intense emotion continues to shock me.
Residual Tremors
Wednesday is a similar story. As I get out of bed, shortly after 7:00 a.m., I continue to feel the same unmotivated exhaustion.
As I finally force myself to sit at my computer in a futile attempt at writing, another freight train of intense emotion suddenly rages through me. I recognize the emotions as more of that all-too-familiar God-drama anger that is relentlessly releasing through my conscious awareness.
The emotions are so intense that I pass through another flash flood of emotional release – through several agonizing minutes of dry heaving while being mostly unable to breathe.
“Wow,” I ponder in shock, “This emotion just continues to flow. Where is it all coming from? How could all of this be locked away inside of me?”
I am deeply grateful for my training in not fighting the emotion … to just let it flow with nonattachment … but wow, this is intense.
For the next few hours, I sit in this river of emotion. The initial burst of unbearable emotion has long since passed on, but I continue to feel residual tremors rocking my world.
As I finally resolve that, “today will be another day without writing,” I quickly follow guidance to engage Sufi in more delightful conversation. It is a beautifully healing discussion that applies to us both.
No Emotions … Or Are There?
Later Wednesday evening, I enjoy a delightful social evening while helping my dear friend Isaias bag and weigh another 250 pounds of slightly-liquid, freshly-ground chocolate. The experience is quite different without Keith around, and we are slightly short-handed – but we make due quite nicely, finishing the task in just over three hours. In fact, it is the most fun I have had bagging chocolate in a very long time.
Thursday morning, I again sit at my computer, for the third day in a row, determined to write about Sunday, June 17, 2012. I start by innocently beginning to read my notes. But I do not get beyond the first line, which states:
“Father’s Day … no emotions about it … but I wish??”
As I read these words, I go completely emotionally numb.
“This is why I am still unable to write about that day,” I suddenly realize. “There are huge reservoirs of painful emotions hiding under that Father’s-Day lid. I have long since dealt with all of the obviously-related emotions – but then I put a lid on the rest of those excruciating emotions in an effort to find some semblance of stability and peace in my life.”
“It seems that the Universe will not allow me to move forward until I take that lid off of this ignored issue, and take it deeper,” intuitions scream at me with deep clarity.
A Betrayal Dilemma
As I quickly realize that what lies beneath that sealed lid remains very raw, I begin to cry. Seconds later the tears turn to sobs, and then dry heaving. The release quickly escalates to maximum intensity – so much so that I isolate to my room and allow this deeply repressed sadness to freely flow with a vengeance.
Suddenly, clarity begins to form.
“I have felt deeply victimized and betrayed by others, many times in my life,” I ponder with insight. “And I have been ultimately projecting that betrayal energy onto God … as the underlying factor in my God drama.”
“But through the eyes of my children,” I begin to get brutally honest, “I, as their father, was the “God-figure” in their life – the respected adult in their life who betrayed them, breaking up the family, doing the unthinkable to them as vulnerable young children and teenagers.”
“And I experienced and internalized all of that intense guilt, right down to the very last drop,” I ponder the repressed agony.
“Wow,” I suddenly realize, “I was feeling that guilt even when I myself was just a young boy – long before I ever got married. It was unbearable guilt that had shadowed me throughout life. It was a guilt based on absolute knowing that the confusing gender feelings in my heart would make family hate me – whether I acted on those feelings or not – and that I could never be my true self without hurting those that I love.”
I must be quite clear here in stating that when I got married at age twenty-one, I really believed that I would be able to cure myself of what I perceived as “those evil gender feelings.” I would never have married if I did not deeply believe that I could, and would, cure myself.
Crushing And Overwhelming
Finally, by age thirty-one, I was drowning under the weight of that guilt – but I was also drowning in a sense of spiritual death and hopelessness, no longer wanting to live if I had to go on pretending to be a man, living a fake life behind an unbearable mask.
I had reached a point where I clearly recognized that I was facing a no-win situation: I would either have to face literal physical decline and death (and probable suicide) … or I would have to move forward in what I knew would be seen as an unforgivable act of betrayal to my family.
“Would my children rather have a dead father or a living Brenda,” I pondered what I absolutely knew were the only possible outcomes.
Seeing no other way out of my painful dilemma, I finally faced my desperation and made the decision to live – to begin embracing Brenda – fully knowing that those I loved would most likely hate me, or possibly worse. To make a long story short, I attempted to break up the marriage at that time, but in a twist of loving gestures, my wife and I decided to give it another try – to take gradual steps into exploring my confusing feelings.
My wife and I remained married for ten more years while I explored options and compromises, hoping to find some way to be happy as an outwardly-visible pretend male. During that period, I gobbled down all the guilt and responsibility for the stress that I caused in the marriage. I literally felt like a voodoo doll, constantly and intentionally sticking pins into myself in an effort to ease the emotional burden of my family. The guilt I felt was crushing and overwhelming. But my desire to live was even stronger.
Finally, at age forty-one I reached a point of intense suicidal feelings, clearly knowing that it was a time to either transition or literally die. Again, I chose life – but this time it meant divorce and moving on. The guilt ate me alive, but I had to live.
Thrive Or Die
After divorce and a quick transition into Brenda, my guilt continued. My family loved and remained in my life beyond my wildest possible dreams – yet things were still extremely awkward. I was that huge elephant in the room that no one could talk about.
I would be remiss if I were to attempt to speak to the feelings of my family. I can only say that during that period I clearly perceived myself as both the betrayer and as the betrayed – as both the perpetrator and the victim. I did everything I could to ease the burden of my family while simultaneously attempting to internalize all of the pain and guilt so that no one else would have to feel it. But that was an impossible task.
In retrospect, I clearly understand that I was wallowing in my own pain while minimizing and intellectualizing the feelings of family – not fully honoring or understanding what they must have been going through. Yet I was acting from the purest of hearts and from a place of inner integrity – genuinely doing the only thing I could possible do to choose a future in which I might thrive rather than die.
It has taken me years to understand, but I now clearly see that I played out both sides of the painful betrayal issue – in an agonizing way – doing so in a way that would one day help me to deeply understand the God drama.
A Forgotten Festering Foundation
As I ponder these painful life transitions, I sob and dry heave for a great while – deeply feeling the anguish – profoundly fearing that I have again opened “Pandora’s Box,” and that I will never again come out of this frightening loop.
“I hid away that semi-healed emotion for safe keeping,” I ponder the past. “I tried to forget about it … and eventually did. Finally, I managed to build a loving and stable life on top off that forgotten festering foundation.”
“What was in that forbidden box was an intense reservoir of off-limits pain,” I ponder with fright. “Now, that pain has been opened and exposed. What if I get lost in it, yet again?”
Finally, after meditating through these emotions for nearly an hour, focusing on bringing in light to assist in transmuting the pain, I begin to feel much lighter.
A Magical Sweetness Messenger
Soon, as I walk into the bathroom, something amazing begins to unfold. As I stand by the mirror, I hear a honeybee buzzing on the bathroom window. Confidently placing my hand by the bee, the little messenger of sweetness quickly climbs up onto my finger. It is my intention to release the bee back into the open air, so I hurry to open the bathroom window and hold my hand outside. I then notice Sufi on the patio.
“Go to Sufi,” I encourage the little honeybee to fly to his freedom.
But the bee refuses to move. Sufi walks over and attempts to coax the honeybee onto her hand, doing so quite aggressively … but the bee refuses to let go of my finger. Finally, I carry the bee with me back into the living room, holding it on my finger for a very long time. The little honeybee is deeply lethargic, almost not moving at all, as if it is dying or in distress.
Delight And Aliveness
“This is my message of sweetness,” I giggle inside. “This little bee is telling me that all is now OK, reassuring me of the genuineness of my heart, and telling me that it is time to love myself and be joyful.”
The little bee continues to just sit there, almost motionless. Occasionally it slowly crawls around my fingernail, but mostly it just rests.
Finally, at precisely 11:20 a.m., the little messenger suddenly becomes quite active, as if he knows that his mission is now complete. As if suddenly awoken from a deep sleep, the little sweetness messenger comes to life and busily buzzes to my front window. When he becomes temporarily stuck in a small cluster of old spider webs, I rescue the bee with my hand. Then, when I carry the bee to my patio door, it buzzes away with delight and aliveness.
Giggling Insights
Suddenly, I ponder the amazing insights that flooded my awareness two mornings ago – meditative insights about a very strange dream where I felt abandoned at what was supposed to be a chocolate ceremony in a yoga retreat center – insights telling me that the actual clock times in that dream had been quite significant.
“This little bee brought me a magical message of sweetness returning,” I again ponder with strong intuition and giggles. “And he even did so with a hidden metaphorical message. The time of 11:20 – a time that is shortly before age eleven and a half, is precisely when the sweetness originally left my life – exactly when I began to deeply struggle with painful gender and self-image issues.”
“That little bee knew exactly what he was doing,” I giggle with joy.
I sit in stunned meditative silence as I ponder the synchronous messages. The experience may sound quite silly to others, but intuitions strongly confirm that I have received the message perfectly.
All of that agonizing and guilt-inducing emotion has now completely vanished, having been replaced by joyful delight.
“What more of a confirmation do I need than that,” I ponder with a deep smile.
On A Roll
Finally, early Friday morning, July 27, 2012, I make my fourth consecutive attempt at a day of writing – an attempt to write about that bizarre dream with a chocolate ceremony at a yoga retreat center.
After three days of rehashing new layers of old emotions, and taking the lid of a frightening Pandora’s Box, I finally succeed in a magical day of writing, eventually publishing “Profound Parallels” late that evening. It has been a long but very rewarding day of integration and healing.
The fourth attempt does indeed turn out to be successful.
Finally, I am back in the smooth groove of writing, and I publish three additional blogs in the next three days … including “A Big Stick,” “An Aloe Vera Adventure,” and “Magical Star Trek Metaphors.”
I am on a roll. I am having magical conversations with my roommate Sufi; I am healing; I am writing up a storm; and I am learning to speak my truth and set loving boundaries.
Early Tuesday morning, the final day of July 2012, I discover that the electricity is off all over town. I use the opportunity for a day off – a day to hike, to run errands, to study Spanish, and to read. Finally, later in the evening, when the power comes back on, I top of this vacation day with a relaxing movie. As I finally rest on my pillow, I cannot believe that in just a couple of hours, July will be over.
Uther, Arthur, And Merlin
Wow, these last sixteen days of July 2012 have been intense. The roller coaster ride has been wild, taking me all over the emotional playground, gentle ups and steep frightening downs, mixed in with sharp unexpected curves with many new twists thrown in for extra credit. Who could have guessed that continued writing would keep bringing up so many old, and even new, issues?
Right off the bat I jumped into another intense journey with the partnership of mushrooms – a journey taking me into Merlin metaphors, which then led to profound understandings and insights into the areas of balancing and healing of masculine and feminine aspects of self. I love how mythical names like Uther, Arthur, and Merlin can trigger such unexpected growth and insights.
I have a new loving appreciation for that “worrywart” side of me. Rather than judge it harshly, I now see that aspect of me with loving compassion. It really is the wounded child in me, desperately attempting to protect both me, and others, from future emotional harm.
And then, wow did that next wave of suicidal emotional reality catch me totally by surprise. It continues to boggle my mind how such a reality can come raging into awareness so quickly and powerfully, and can then transmute so magically with the help of Higher Energies.
But perhaps the most intense moments of these two final weeks were those repeated attempts at writing “Profound Parallels.” I have gained an even greater respect for the synchronous flow of the Universe – for how important it is to listen to what at first can feel like depressing emotional obstacles blocking my path, but which are instead magical teaching opportunities that will take me even deeper into further understanding and growth if I will but surrender and allow.
And then, how can I forget a magical little sweetness messenger – a little high-vibration winged wonder that guided me from the depths of pain to joyful giggles.
Copyright © 2012 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved