Tending the fires of purpose, power and passion in the soulful human | Sexuality Coaching | Intimacy | Masculine | Feminine | Soul | Making Love | Boulder, Colorado

Finding Belonging

It’s hard to know what of *this* is the cleanse, the situation, or something entirely as yet out of my awareness. But for two days I have been feeling so permeable. Like a fragile weathered leaf or a very thin layer of ice. None of that actually captures the full truth of where I am in this moment; poised to take greater risks than ever before in service of my work (which is my life, there is no separation). I’ve committed to cleaning up my relationship with money (oh lord, what an epic feat for my intrepid guide, Bari Tessler); committed to publishing my poetry (thank you to the Earthquake Man and Max Regan); committed to speaking my truth no matter what (thank you, again, Earthquake Man, my incredible women’s council and Jayson Gaddis); committed to finally completing the Women’s Wisdom Card Deck & Guidebook; committed to finally prioritizing my relationship with The World, my place within it, and my unapologetic outrageously all-consuming love for it.

All this is true. And yet for the last 24 hours or so (actually, maybe my lifetime), I have just felt so ‘other’. I sit in a room of my own tribe, the closest of close, the people with whom I’ve made love, in front of whom I’ve stood naked (literally) and introduced my body, limb by limb, skin by skin, the people with whom I’ve sobbed my joy and heartbreak, for whom and from whom I feel devotion, and I feel other-than.

If my enneagram friends were here they’d say, “yup...that’s your 4 talking...” and maybe so. My 4 has always been talking, since I can remember remembering. It is true that I'm not like anyone else. But then, neither is anyone else.

But this time in my life it’s a little different. I feel the call to claim something unclaimed. To claim my own way (whatever it is). To stand up for what I am learning is the particular care and feeding of my female soul, and (here’s the kicker) trusting whatever collateral damage (internal or external) comes as a result. I have a story that it will mean heartbreak - my own - and that, as a result, I will be truly alone. But how can I be truly alone in this world? How could that possibly happen?

This morning, after tea and tender conversation, the Earthquake Man unhesitatingly pulled me on top of him, sliding his hand underneath me, holding and talking to me as he unleashed the flow of my mammal's chemistry; chemistry that brings with it a sense of human rightness and belonging. I sobbed as I felt myself supported by the mountain of him, as eternal as those just outside our window. There, in that deep liminal place, I felt myself fight against this familiar feeling of other-than as if it were a traitor to my own sense of peace. Pushing against his chest to test just how solid he actually is. ‘How can I trust that you are really here?’ He did not budge.

Later on this warm January day, as I am outside watering the apple trees, I become aware that I’m being followed by a lone female bee...out for the afternoon to stretch her wings, fill her lungs and perhaps even find some fresh water in the bird bath I just cleaned, where moments before a fat-bellied robin was gulping like he’d not had a drink in months. This honey bee, plump and healthy, carefully follows me around the yard for a while, circling, coming close in, so close I can feel the movement of her cellophane wings on my cheek, imagine the clicking of her hamuli in my ear.