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Handless Maidens and then some…

Aug 8, 2016 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

Two weeks ago I spent 6 days in the coveted presence of Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes. There were probably about 100 of us there. If my count is right, 97 women and 3 men. She sat in a high-backed easy chair situated on a slightly raised platform at the front of the room. There was a small end table to her right and a sound-technician to her left. She spoke into a hand-held microphone. I kept wondering why she didn’t have a lapel or ear-mic, thinking how great it would feel to have both hands free. Ironic, given that she was teaching on the story of the Handless Maiden – its archetypes, its symbolism, its relevance, its endless application. She told us of how to interpret dreams and how to facilitate groups and ways she hoped we’d work with her book for years and years to come. She told jokes and articulated comic strips recalled from decades ago. She sometimes responded promptly to the 10-minute cue cards that were raised so that the schedule for breaks and meals was honored. And sometimes she didn’t. She offered her own perspective and wisdom. She wore flowers in her hair every day and at one point, a crown. She held court. She reigned in the most benevolent of ways.

I sat in straight-back chairs and sometimes on the floor while leaning against a Back-Jack. I listened. I took notes. I wrestled with the heat. I drank lots of water infused with oranges and basil. I watched others’ experiences and responses compared to my own. I leaned over and whispered to the women/friends on my left and right. I sometimes passed notes. I giggled. I snuck in potato chips and stayed up past curfew and joined funds for smuggled-in wine and listened to Prince. I laughed so hard I  thought I would pee my pants. And I was aware that in spite of (or inspired by) all that she spoke and offered, I was, most of the time, having a far different conversation in my head and heart. I was wrestling with my own expectations.

The week itself was nothing like what I expected, which, I realize upon much re flection, is completely and perfectly fine.

My expectations get me into trouble: my idea of how things should go – whether an event or parenting or a relationship or even the writing of a blog post.

The calling and challenge is to let go of every one of these, to acknowledge where I am right-here-right-now, and to then express and allow that. Anything other, anything different, anything less renders me handless. Ouch!

It’s excruciating to be handless!

It’s excruciating to walk through life living up to (or not) the expectations of others and expecting that our own expectations will be met.

And I’m wondering if these are one in the same. I’m pretty certain of it, actually.

Whether aware of such or not, we are all Handless Maidens with protective chalk-circles drawn ’round us in the belief that somehow they will keep us safe and intact. We stay within them, meeting the expectations of others, attempting to live up to our own, and hoping our own aren’t dashed. Our expectations create the definition and demand that our story will go as it should, that surely we will be protected and honored, seen and heard. And we forget that it is only chalk!

What if we erased it? Better yet, what if we just stepped over and out of it completely? What if we let go of the tyranny of how things “should” be and instead just expressed what is?

What if we ran businesses and loved who and how we wish and wrote blog posts that were free of what others think, what we  think others want to hear from or experience through us?

What if we sat in high-back or straight-back or Back Jack chairs and just spoke/wrote/lived what and how we want without apology or concern for how we might be received, or not; understood, or not; welcomed, or not; applied, or not? What if we took any story ever told and interpreted it the way we want, no matter who tells us we can’t or shouldn’t or don’t have permission or enough education or the right credentials or the proper perspective?

What if we charged what we wanted – even if it’s less? What if we stayed off of social media because it makes us crazy? Or what if we engaged with it from a place of freedom and delight instead of burden and demand? What if we recognized the father/overculture (in the story of the Handless Maiden and our own) doesn’t have the power over us we think it does?

What if we no longer lived under the “protection” of the father/overculture? What if we defied it’s every expectation? What if we headed into the woods, handless-but-hopeful with no expectations to which we must rise or supersede?

[“All over the map” would be the proper response to this paragraph. I understand. And…my list of what-if’s is far, far longer. I’m sparing you – for now.]

Like the Handless Maiden herself, let’s head into the forest with no sense of what’s next.

Let’s enter into life in ways that feel free and expansive, individuated and distinct, ours-no-matter-what (albeit slightly scary). Let’s believe our hands will grow back – this time untied, unbound, and completely free to touch and feel and love and work (and even write blog posts) on our own terms and as we wish.

[I’ll admit it: this post is probably far, far removed from what Dr. Estes herself expected I would take away from 6 days in her presence. Me too. And that’s OK. I’m practicing what I preach.]

Let go of others’ expectations. Let go of those you have of and for yourself. Step outside the chalk circle. Grow back your hands. Save your life. [And write a blog post about it – or don’t.] You get to decide.

Me too.

When Darkness Threatens

Nov 16, 2015 | Hope & Encouragement, Spirituality

But a grave separateness has invaded the world… ~ Naomi Shihab Nye

It is said that in the beginning, darkness hovered over the face of the earth. God separated the dark from the light, the night from the day, created the moon and the sun, and decreed that all of this was good.

Oh, how we fight the separateness, the disconnectedness, the darkness, the aching spaciousness and silence that often seem to reign. We are loathe to call such “good.” Still, there is something about the darkness that connects us most profoundly to ourselves and to each other. And this is good. Not as reason or justification for the grief, the violence, the harm, the graves; but as evidence of light’s endless, undaunted, and determined presence, despite it all.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes tells an old, old story of when Mother Moon was stolen. At its end, these words:

On nights there was no light to guide, and so many people became lost, and so many children became orphaned, and so many people suffered, the villagers decided they must go and find what had become of the moon. Armed with torches and clubs, they trekked through the night into the bog, sinking down into the wet and slimy grass all the way up to their knees, and cold and wet they continued on. The evil things were about and surrounded them, scratching and clawing at them, but the flames from their torches kept them safe.

And they came to a great boulder, and they said they did not think this boulder was in this place before. There was a little lip of light all the way around it that shown whiter than white. With great excitement they lifted and they hauled and they tugged until the boulder rolled away. And then staring down into what seemed like the most beautiful face they had ever seen, they saw eyes filled with the love of humanity.

This is what we seek, and this is what we find when darkness threatens to overwhelm: “…eyes filled with the love of humanity.”

Ours. Other’s. Always.

May it be so.

*******

(This post acknowledges and grieves darkness’ aftermath in Beirut, Baghdad, Kenya, Syria, and Paris. In endless hope that light will dawn…)

The perfect way to stop a woman.

Oct 18, 2014 | Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom, Writing

“I’ve seen women insist on cleaning everything in the house before they could sit down to write…. and you know it’s a funny thing about house cleaning… it never comes to an end. Perfect way to stop a woman.” ~ Clarissa Pinkola
Estes, Women Who Run With the Wolves

“Perfect way to stop a woman.”

Ouch.

For me, this is not about the cleaning. It’s about the metaphor: all the things that keep me from doing what I say I most want to do. All the seemingly important tasks that clamor for my attention. All the distractions. More to the point: all the inhibitions and insecurities that crowd and clamor and consume.

I’m not naive, nor am I an idealist. There are things that need to be done. Responsibilities that beckon. Important work that is required. But for me, those tasks, burdens, and endless lists tend to become excuses, delays, even weirdly-grateful-for hindrances that keep me from the better part.

There’s an old, old story told of two sisters. One day a renowned Teacher graced their home. One of the sisters sat contentedly at his feet while the other scurried about in the kitchen – managing the critical details of hospitality. Eventually the sister in the kitchen complained. “Don’t you care that she has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” The Teacher said to her: “Dear woman, you are worried about many things. Your sister has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.”

Ouch!

A few examples of my own stuck-in-the-kitchen reality?

  • I must be losing subscribers because they don’t quite understand me. I should re-tool my “About” page.
  • My social media strategy needs attention, time, and work. Surely, that will help me turn the corner.
  • I need to create some kind of passive revenue stream; something that would be a fail-safe income generator so I can focus on my real writing.
  • Maybe I should craft this blog post in a way that allows everyone to resonate instead of just some. Yes, that seems wise.

This is only the tip of my iceberg. Each of these – and so many more – keep me “in the kitchen” and busy with details that matter on some level, to be sure, but that deflect me from my true desire, true calling, the better part. I grouse about the way things seem to be for everyone else. And I justify lack of movement, avoidance of risk, aversion to exposure, uncertainty, insecurity, and fear. How convenient. How neat and tidy.

The better part. What is that exactly?

  • Doing the hard(er) work of putting myself out there, others’ opinions (and my own self-critic’s) silenced.
  • Trusting that I actually know.
  • Not giving one more thought to “perfect clients” or platform or market share or SEO-optimization.
  • Letting people in, no matter how messy my kitchen, my mind, my heart, my world.
  • Writing, saying, being in ways that might probably go against the grain, but that feel so true, so right, so real, so me.

The better part, the better choice, the only choice, really, is to allow for and invite the messiness, the risk, the passion, the unbridled creativity, the unrestrained voice, the rampant imperfection. The better part is to listen to wisdom within and without. To stop fussing and laboring and yes, cleaning. To come out of the kitchen and sit, stand, and stay in places of meaning and beauty.

The better part is to not be stopped at all, ever, by anything.

Perfect!

May it be so. 

[Deep appreciation to Martha and her story for connecting me to my own. Just one of the ancient, sacred narratives I so need
and so love.]

I Am A Medial Woman

May 31, 2014 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

The Medial Woman…is a representation of the strong-sighted and deep-hearted self who lives simultaneously in the world of light (our conventional, daytime domain) and the world of dark (the hidden realm of potential, the depths of the Soul and its making of things to bear, balance, unleash in goodness in the topside world). The medial woman in mythos since time out of mind remains rooted in both worlds, and listening to her ways and means in stories, we can hear, see, and feel the guidance this vital and soulful sense grants: “to live so strong, so wide, and so very deeply…as we promised to do before we ever came to earth.” (From Mother Night by Clarissa Pinkola Estes)

These words offer me explanation for my seemingly-endless held breath. I hear my profoundly grateful and redemptive exhale deep, deep within my soul. A “yes” that resounds throughout all time and in this very moment. An acknowledgement and naming of what I feel, where I live, what I know, how I be.

These woffrds oer me explanation for why I feel out-of-sorts. I see, name, experience, and feel the problem(s) with the world of light; the over-culture in which I live and move, but which often harms and increasingly does not feel like home. And I dwell increasingly, more often, way underneath, in the world of dark; the part of me that senses, intuitively and powerfully, that more exists and will not be suppressed… at least for long. My dark world is not easily understood (or accepted) in the light one. And vice versa.

These words offer me explanation for why I feel more tension than rest, more angst than acceptance; why there has been a lump in my throat for weeks; why the continual stirring within me will not be silenced. Thankfully.

And these words offer me explanation for my work, my calling, my raison d’être. I am a carrier of messages back and forth between the worlds. I trust the dark world – my knowing, my intuition, my creative Feminine force. I speak all of that magic and holiness into the light world. And I take what I experience in the light back into the dark – to mull it over; to throw it into my cauldron and let it cook down and burn away; to hear and hold the voices of other dark, sacred souls as they cackle with me in the brilliant gleam of our cimmerian fire.

These words offer me explanation for my very self: I am a medial woman.

And just maybe, these words offer you explanation as well.

May it be so.

The 3 Secrets of the Gifted Soul

Mar 31, 2014 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

“Since you were born gifted, you will never lead an ordinary life.”

“Eccentricity is the first sign of giftedness. You are made one-of-a-kind, with all your oddities. They are arrows pointing straight to your giftedness.”

“If you are seeking to be normal, I hope you’ll get over it. Normalcy is the enemy of giftedness.”

These are not my words – though I wish they were. They are those of Clarissa Pinkola Estes – a woman who knows just a little bit about women, about giftedness, about the power and glory that we possess…even (and especially) if we’ve forgotten.

I’ve had these three points written out and in front of me for a couple of years now. They encourage. They strengthen. And more than all else, when I really listen, I know them to be true. Deep-in-my-bones true. Cannot-be-argued-with true. A know-that-I-know-that-I-know-this true.

I’m guessing you might feel somewhat the same, yes?

To be given the freedom to be un-ordinary, eccentric, odd, and anything but normal is profound gift and grace. It calls us to be extraordinary, uncommon, and frankly, ourselves!

Consider this your permission slip. Print it out. Hand it to the principal. Turn it in to your boss. Slip it under the pillow of your lover. Repeat it to your kids. Sticky-note it to your mirror, your dashboard, your monitor. And tattoo it on your heart.

You ARE a gifted soul!