My father turned 80 yesterday.
That's quite a milestone.
Last year, when I was recuperating from my snakebite at my parent's North County home,
my vulnerability rendered me 'weak' and, thus, easy for attack. When the moments afforded it, both of my parents were sure to take their invisible strikes,
"You're 35," they both said at different times,
"what do you have to show for your life?"
With my Dad, I could respond compassionately authentic, "You have all this," I said, motioning with my arms around a two-story, suburban home with two cars in the garage and all the modern trappings of 'success,' "are you happy?" I honestly inquired. Unlike my mother, he doesn't live in denial or respond from his reactionary defenses, thus all he could do was to turn and walk away.
Forty plus years in a sex-less marriage filled with projection and rage; forty years at a purposeless job that paid the bills and had him traveling around the world, drinking and carousing with a fraternal order of insurance salesman yet absent from his growing family. Today, he putters around the yard, tending to grass and flowers - very little that actually sustains life - while also hitting the golf course a couple of times a week. It's all he's ever known.
In many ways, I raised myself in the hills down the street from their house. Running wild, I climbed over rocks, jumped over streams, swung from tire swings attached to giant Oaks, as I also came to know both Poison Oak and tick bites quite well. By the time I was living on my own, I was continually giving stuff away as things merely feel like a ball and chain, keeping me weighted to one place. I seek perpetual motion. Stagnancy feels like death to me. However, this action of mine merely served to trigger my mother's anger, since she was usually the one who paid for the day beds and the dressers, the clothes and the toys.
All I have ever wanted to do is to simply follow my heart - by spending time with others, beeing in my body, playing, making art, living life to the fullest. Life in the Prosperity Hive was exorbitant, yet worth it - we shared everything we had. As a grown woman today, I acknowledge and honor that I am no victim here - I have chosen every step along the way so that I may bee here, now. This includes my parents and blood family as well as all of the actions that have followed between now and then.
This week, I am spent and taxed. Choosing to constrict life around me even further inward, I again have downsized and am in transition. I moved out of the Treehouse one month earlier than expected; "Get me outta here!" my Wild Feminine cried. Where she will end up only time will tell. She's sad and is experiencing the pain of the desecration of Sacred Life around her. It hurts her to see her peers so easily sold into a way that is merely perpetuating a dystopic future. So, she nurses her wounds in a bubble of Wild Feminine celebration with three little, golden girls and their powerful Mama ~ remembering the transformative power of story while recharging her Warrior ways.
Intuitively, she understands that the illusion she has been living within is that she is power-less in the face of all this un-consciousness.
I AM POWER~FULL Beeyond,
AND SO ARE YOU.
What Vision Shall We Co-Create?
What World Shall We Build Toward?
ME?
I am hedging my bets on HARMONY and am willing to fly right into the flames of TRUE LOVE for it.
I sure hope you'll join me.
