It's the eyes

There are moments when this blog is a metaphor for my life. In the past few weeks, I have had to dig deep in the courage department to write about the things that are hard to write about. There is still more, of course, but I'm pacing myself. However, it often feels that the more important the blog post, the fewer people read it. I have just had a handful of readers the last few posts (whoever you are, thank you!) and I am thankful in an odd way, too, that my life has given me so much experience at being invisible so that I don't freak out!

Because it's the eyes, isn't it? Isn't that all that anyone wants? To be seen, to be heard. To be validated. "Yes, you exist. It is important that you are here. I hear you. I see you." Several weeks ago, in a pivotal post, I said that the only "person" on the beach with me right now is the Goddess, the energy of the divine feminine, and that was and continues to be true. It was an important turning point. It's hard to express what I am experiencing in this regard, because words don't express it. I don't know if I am experiencing what some people say they feel in their connection to Jesus or other spiritual figures. I don't know if it's a figment of my imagination. All I know is that the only way I feel my journey can be seen as courageous, honorable and beautiful is through the eyes of the divine feminine, the all-encompassing mother, the source of all-love. The minute I try to understand my journey in the context of our current duality construct, I see myself as, at best, pitiful. I simply haven't functioned well in the "old paradigm," and I can get caught in a quicksand of despair when I look at myself through old paradigm eyes.

I guess that's the other reason I feel aligned with the Goddess right now. I mean, I think she "gets" my journey. Where has been a safe home for her? Who has supported her? Has her physical bodily earth been safe from indignities and downright abuse? Has her loving, truthful voice been audible in the din of cascades of gunfire and hateful rhetoric? Who is representing her? I believe there are millions of us, yet we have been left largely invisible, as she has been.

Oddly enough, it is only now that I am beginning to "see" her now in the world. Maybe it took the bitter end of looking into a male mirror in order to see myself. Maybe it took being washed up on a beach with nothing but my own soul to my name. Maybe it took a buffoonish, cartoonish, but all-too-real time of horrors. I get the difference now between love and not-love. I see her. I think she sees me, and the many courageous women and men who are digging deep to live from a place of love. The quality of love in those eyes is so overwhelming, no wonder so many people look away. May I never do so again.