What are you Becoming?
The full moon of July 13th, 2022 brought me many insights around my personal mission: money and men. These two powers seem to have a hold on me. A block. It can be hard to feel like I am allowed, I turn for guidance and validation. Second guessing myself feels natural and easy. The mind just goes there and even though I want to be free and confident I often cower in guilt and shame. It’s a process and a pleasure to come to the other side of that but I'd be lying if I didn't also say how quickly I bounce back to old ways of being. Emotional mastery is not one and done, it’s a practice… (in case you also need to hear that)
Let me tell you about how the self imposed blocks manifest in my life. I wrote la tunca years ago and didn’t let it grow because I wrote it on my ex husbands computer. He actually still holds those original files, unless he deleted them. My fear was that he would say I owed it to him, the book, the success and the money-if there should ever be any. The bed hog series- an art project in the works which I plan to present to you in the new year, never came to be before now bc it was inspired by a funny moment with an ex boyfriend and he too might claim ownership over my work bc he was the source of its inspirational strike. Willy’s Place sits and waits for a miracle because my fathers sons are ready to claim what’s theirs before I even have the chance to begin to take action on a long overdo vision.
Nothing grows because of my fear of men. What will they take from me? How will they demand their payment? And the paralyzing declaration, I can’t do it.
Some weeks ago when Roe v. Wade was reversed, it all felt like the truth I was living inside of my head was coming true. The female race is doomed. We don’t get out of this.
I was 20 when i had my abortion. We had been dating a few months and even though the relationship was sweet enough, having a baby wasn’t the move. He was supportive, so we went to a very kind and gentle doctor. The whole thing was discreet and generally pleasant. I felt no pain after and recovered easily. I eventually married that boyfriend, mostly because my mother told me to and secondly because I was pregnant again. What a cliche right? Marry the guy that knocks you up so you’re not destitute and desperate.
We had two beautiful sons who are young men now. But I can tell you, I never forgot my first baby. That baby never forgot me either. The very first time I journeyed with psilocybin I experienced many things, one being the pain in my womb and back. The aching of my unborn son to be in my arms, to be born, to be mine. Somehow over the years, as my born sons grew up and I eventually divorced, I held him. I never thought much about it or harbored any obvious regret but late one evening in my rocking chair in Costa Rica, I saw him and felt him. This blue orb became a thought and then a vision. I did not know that just upstairs at that very moment as I saw my past with the eyes of my heart, a young woman who was my tenant at the time was miscarrying by choice. Can you imagine that? She was losing her baby as I remembered losing mine in much the same way. I cannot tell you fully the synchronicities because they are still unraveling. I never imagined how many stories would come together to bring me to where I am now. One day I’ll weave all the tales together and you’ll understand the why of things. Maybe I will too.
What’s important to understand is the predicament in which we find ourselves when we choose to end pregnancy. There is a universal experience strongly influenced by the power men hold. A power we all take for granted, misuse and assume. Had the opinions of others, including our boyfriends been grounded in support and respect many of the choices we make along the way would be different. It’s the sense that we can ruin a life, our own and our baby. We are the ones who carry the shame, baby or not. We assume the debt, baby or not. We carry motherhood like a lonely burden, baby or not. For the supreme court to even have a vote or a say over our bodies is perpetuation of violence and loathing against women and there is already too much of that in the world. We have been bound by damaging beliefs, a string of events that turns us against ourselves, has us shift away from our femininity, limits how far we go how much we grow. Anyone who does not get that is a prisoner to the monster I speak of.
Sometimes i think that baby still has a chance, especially if the grand love I’m dreaming of still has a chance. My baby boy deserves a good and kind union, if not in this lifetime then maybe the next, if we are so lucky.
When my life was falling apart or quite obviously never coming together it did not make sense. What kind of universal law was that? What was the point of all that suffering? My marriage never worked. There were high moments of love and lust but I always wanted and deserved more and better. My kids endured a lighter repeat of my childhood. They too always deserved more and better. We lost our home in the real estate disaster of 2008 and the incapacity of two lost fools to get responsible around money. I suffered every stereotype of being a single mother to confused children from a broken home, I was broke and underpaid, the ex refused to help with child support for years and every fling was fruitless. I was a divorcee disaster. The wound also being the wisdom. If we are brave enough to slow down and face ourselves we see that we are always becoming.
The same kind of limitation was present when it came to making money… one of the ways I still do so is teaching yoga. Even this has become tangled and toyed with in my own mind. Cultural appropriation being the excuse to stay small and limited. Reiki hidden away because it’s not mine, yoga practices not shared because it also is not mine, cooking not fully expressed because in this beautiful mind of mine lives more confusion than focus. I have many gifts that I don’t share or allow myself to earn from and it’s one thing that stops me…a personal block. Today I take a courageous step forward. I open my books to more work and I charge for the mastery I’m now willing to be accountable for. I do my work diligently.
Sometimes I feel the information of my life rush through me. I feel the beauty of stories rise to the surface and beg to be written but those old scared parts wait. Sit and wait. and my world is overwhelmed by an old story fighting to be replaced by the creation of new ones, over and over again. Personal sovereignty has never mattered more to me. Writing has never felt more scary but true. It’s what God has given me, the desire and the deed. For me and for every woman behind me and before me. For every grandmother and granddaughter.
I stand for women like never before. I hold the vision of Willy’s Place as a woman’s dorm lightly and give it to God. I remember why I write and continue even when it seems to make no difference. I do it for us.
