The day is here. My granddaughter, Aveline, is coming into the world. My daughter Jenny just called to say her water broke. I am on my way to the hospital. Such great joy. Life being born yet again.
Unabashedly Female at the DMV
So, I had to get my Driver’s License renewed the other day before my birthday. The last time I had entered a DMV was four years ago on my birthday, and the experience was not a pretty one. I spent three hours in line waiting…a good lesson in why it is smart to get an appointment time. This time, I decided to go to our local DMV in El Cerrito, a town just north of Berkeley where I live.
What a glorious experience I had in the El Cerrito DMV. Now that may sound like an overstatement…glorious and the DMV together in one sentence, but I have to tell you, the people there SO ROCK.
First, I was greeted by a young woman who was obviously hip, wildly creative and unabashedly female. She was the friendliest person I have encountered in a long, long time. And, it was genuine. She greeted me with a sincere smile, gave me a number and showed me where to go next.
I took my seat and waited for my number. Just THREE minutes later, I was called to window 20. As I approached the window, I was greeted by another young woman, who looked directly at me, said, “Hi, can I help you?” and seemed to genuinely mean it. I told her what I was there for and she got to work.
As she was looking up my records in the computer, I noticed a faded flyer from 2005 posted between window 20 and window 19:
The flyer grabbed my eye because I had just been reading about Shirley Chisholm and her intelligent and courageous way that supported her in becoming the first African-American woman elected to Congress and the first major party African-American candidate for President of the United States. Then, I read the quote on the flyer, “Tremendous amounts of talent are being lost to our society just because that talent wears a skirt.”. I wondered to myself how much that statement is still true. I read all the time that the playing field is now even and women have so much at their fingertips that wasn’t there before. But, I also know that our patriarchal acculturation is woven into our daily lives in so many insidious ways. It isn’t spoken of, but it has made its mark on our psyches (both women and men’s).
I told the young woman waiting on me that I loved that quote by Shirley Chisholm, and she answered back, “Me too. I want to get a tattoo of it, but I haven’t been able to figure out how to shorten it so it will fit on my body!”. We chuckled together and I tried to picture where you would put it and how it would look winding its way around her arm. Then, I asked her if I could borrow a piece of paper to write it down on, and she said, “How would you like a copy of it? I’ll photocopy it for you!”. Such service at the DMV! She was not only serving me promptly and courteously, we were sharing a moment relating to each other as women, realizing the importance of honoring another woman who had made a difference in each of our lives.
As she finished up her work, she then directed me to the window to have my picture taken. I had forgotten that I would need to have my picture taken, and started to put my hand to my hair in hopes of doing something miraculous with it between window 20 and window 6. As I did so, she looked at me and said, “You are a beautiful strong woman, don’t be worrying about your hair.” I took her advice, and stepped to window 6 where I just stood there and smiled big, feeling my strength and beauty, and knowing all the talent I have has nothing to do with wearing a skirt.
I made a promise to myself, then and there, that I would let this talent fully shine.
Who knew you could get so much from the DMV?!
Piglets for Girls
Piglets for Girls. When I first read this article, I felt a surge of discomfort and frustration to know that there are things going on that so devalue women and girls that I can’t even wrap my head around them. Yet, this reaction doesn’t really help them. I am only seeing it from my western woman’s perspective without taking into consideration that I don’t know how other parts of the world work.
Piglets for Girls is an ingenious plan that is saving thousands of young girls from being sold into slavery. To make it happen, Olga Murray had to understand how the Nepali culture worked after living there on and off for over five years.
As part of living this question, “What is it to be Female?”, we can look at women who exhibit their female nature in the work they do, and at the same time are powerful forces in the world today, creating change and leading by example and love.
Olga Murray is one such lady. She is saving lives every day…little female lives. Having been honored by the Dalai Lama and the former king of Nepal, Murray exhibits love, creativity, tenacity and the deep kind of love for the world that Amma calls Universal Motherhood.
When I read about Olga and the young girls she has changed, I could also see how these girls, once they felt secure and cared for, began to show their own strength and resiliency. They become empowered activists in their own right, naturally showing a fierceness towards their younger sister’s safety that can now be spoken aloud.
Olga Murray is a mirror for us all in which we can see our own strength, compassion, patience and creativity. These young women teach us something about what we can embody when we have known fear and stepped through it, and have been truly valued enough to be spoken for. Take a moment to notice something new you now know about your own nature as a woman. Women can be true to their nature AND be a powerful force in the world.
The Paradox of it All
Over the past few months, I have actively and consciously been holding both life and death. We discovered my mother was terminally ill in December. Two weeks later, on New Year’s Day, I found out my daughter and son-in-law are due to have a baby…amazingly enough, due on my mother’s birthday. Over the past seven months, I have held this sense of birth and death, living and dying, from somewhere in the middle of the chain of women…my daughter is giving birth to a daughter. It has been a profound experience to consciously hold life and death together, to know that they both exist in every moment and to actively sit with the sense that neither one is to be grasped or pushed away.
An image that is burned in my mind is my daughter standing beside my mother’s casket. Her beautiful full belly was so close, a great-granddaughter and great-grandmother so close, but never to meet. To be a witness to this passing of generations has been as enlightening as anything I have ever experienced. To think the beauty of this reality is available to us everywhere at any time leaves me breathless.
Mother
I haven’t been able to write for two weeks now. My mother passed away on June 29th, and the words have only come in small bits. I have felt wordless, except for the moments when I needed to come up with them when writing her obituary and my portion of her eulogy.
The connection with our mother goes to the core. And, for me, it wasn’t until I realized she was going to die that I felt this tearing at the core of my being. It was as if the connection I had with her was deeply tied to the center of my body. It felt as if the other end of the connection was tied to her center as well. As I tried to describe it to my sister-in-law Shirley, my love for my mother was also a physical connection from center-to-center, from core-to-core.
My relationship with my mother was not perfect…whose is? But as she lay dying, I could feel the love she had for me in a way that I had not remembered experiencing. It was if a different channel a deeper, more physical and intuitive channel of expression was opened between us. In those last days, we shared some extraordinary moments of love. No, she wasn’t able to talk about dying, as she couldn’t speak without a great amount of exertion. But, instead, her communication came through her eyes, through her hands and through her heart. I could feel her unconditional love for me and something within me let go, knowing that her love for me does not, and will not, die. It is beyond our lifetimes, it is more than our bodies, and it is more than simply our relationship as mother and daughter.
My mother’s death has opened up a new place of inquiry into mothers and motherhood that I am following and will share here. How much I expected my mother to be more than human in her ability to mother. And, at the same time, I always knew that she was a mother that always provided what I needed.
My two sisters and I gave our mother’s eulogy together. It was truly an honor to do so. My mother was a strong, independent woman, as are my sisters. I have heard many stories from those who loved my mother, and know her now in many different ways. It’s funny how we learn things about our parents after they die, that we didn’t know before.
I see her humanness and now also know her divine ability to love unconditionally. What a gift.
A Mother’s Love
Greetings to all,
I haven’t been posting for a bit. My time for writing these days has been limited. Instead, I have been spending most of my moments with my mother who is near the end of her two-year journey with cancer.
Joan, my mother, is an incredible woman. She is strong, courageous, and vital. She is independent and fiercely stubborn. All of these qualities have kept her alive much longer than we anticipated.
As these past months have gone by, I have been graciously given the chance to see the radiance in her shine forth from a deep place within. She is radiant with love and when she smiles at me I can feel the power of her love and the gentle, yet powerful presence of her true identity. She is my mother, yet she is also love itself.
No Longer Silent
- Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter. ~Martin Luther King Jr.
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- I heard this quote used on a TV show tonight and hearing it stirred me to write. I think this is an extraordinary quote, but then it is from an extraordinary man.
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- The word silence has many definitions. One, is the absence of sound or stillness…one way we speak of the sea of the unmanifest potential of the Universe. But, silence, when it is how we keep ourselves from speaking our wisdom, is one of the most insidious ways in which the status quo stays in control.
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- When I read King’s quote, I can feel the truth in it. Becoming silent shows up in many ways. Becoming silent can happen when a sense of the ‘enormity of it all’ overtakes the inner impulse to express oneself in the world, or when a desired outcome is attached to the impulse to express. The struggle within to want to control what happens in the face of our own expression can silence the expression itself.
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- What matters to me is the awakening of the sacred feminine in all women, the divinity within each woman that can bring forth life into this world, whether it is a beautiful new human being or another form of expression of this sacred feminine. This matters to me. This is the basis of this blog and all the work I do.
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- I revel in my client’s awakening to the ripeness that awaits them when they ‘get’ that they are divine and that their bodies are a manifestation of the sacred feminine. I also see that this awakening in women spreads through all beings. The men they love, the children they hold and the life they nurture all heals when women begin to heal the divisions held within. Coming to wholeness spreads knowing and healing to all they touch.
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- What matters to you? What would it take for you to no longer be silent? How are you expressing that inner impulse now in your life?
The Question of Authority
Authority: freedom from doubt; belief in yourself and your abilities;
Confidence derived from experience or practice; firm self-assurance
Learning to trust yourself, your experience and your wisdom is the key to learning to claim your personal authority.
Let me share an example. I started writing a book over three years ago. After at least a year of writing, I ended up with a pretty hefty book proposal, with a complete chapter of 40-plus pages. One of my much esteemed colleagues introduced me to his agent, so I contacted her and asked her if she would read my proposal. She asked me all sorts of questions about my background and education. When she discovered that I didn’t have a PhD, or a “national followingâ€, she said she wouldn’t read my proposal as I didn’t have what it took to be credible or sell books. At the time, I let her authority crush mine. Let me explain.
I did not yet understand that my own experience and the wisdom that comes from it is the only knowing that I can truly have. And, that sharing our wisdom to others, and being open to others wisdom, is a way we learn about who we are and what is real, outside of what our cultural conditioning tells us, especially for women. We learn by sharing stories and the deep seeds of wisdom that come from living consciously.
Don’t get me wrong…I am all for a good education. I loved my time at
But with this literary agent, I accepted the status quo she was offering to me. I was standing alongside her in this culture’s perspective that others with education and some kind of ‘sensational experience’ know more than those who don’t have these experiences. I believed the story that without a PhD or some kind of notoriety, that what I have to say is not enough of interest to others to sell books.
Now, I can understand this from the current way publishing works. It is about making money, and in this culture, at least right now, what makes money is sensationalism or a hefty academic pedigree. But, I let this experience kill my own compelling urge to write the book. I also let it squash my own inner authority that I absolutely know I have something to offer and to share, and have the right to share it.
I think realizing and exercising ones personal authority is a necessity in these times of turmoil. And, personal authority is not by definition in conflict with other forms of authority. We can claim our right to voice and act on what we know to be true from deep within, our own Truth, while at the same time allowing this response to not infringe on another’s rights.
Historically, women have not had the luxury of being born with authority. Over the past few thousand years, women have lived mostly in the confines of patriarchal cultures, which don’t teach or honor that we have the ability to know and own this personal inner authority.
What it comes down to is owning our own wisdom, nurturing this wisdom, looking within to understand our own truth so that we may step forward and voice this truth into the world.
We are conditioned out of our own inner authority. We are taught well that others make the rules and choices and our only way to voice them is by voting for those we believe will hold up the values and choices we stand behind.
I am now writing again and loving it. How it will turn out I don’t yet know. I have stepped into a new perspective about what I have to say. All I know is that I must say it…how it appears, and who will read it, is not up to me. I do know that I have the wisdom and the authority to speak up and be heard.
What is your wisdom? What are you wanting to say? What if there were women out there just waiting to hear your wisdom? How might you share it? I look forward to learning from you…
Transmuting Anger to Love
Blue Tara ~ Goddess of Liberation
“Blue Tara, or Ekajati, is associated with the transmutation of anger. A Protector expressing ferocious, wrathful, female energy who destroys all learning obstacles producing good luck and swift spiritual awakening. She removes fear of enemies, spreading joy and good fortune.” (source: Seasonal Salon)
If I am going to be unabashedly female, I must be present to what is here. Anger is here…again. To be honest, I don’t know what to do with this anger. Anger wasn’t something I learned to feel or express, but it certainly is here.
Anger for the way women and children are treated. I sense rage underneath a pretty veneer of good and appropriate behavior, not only on my part, but in the world at large. I sense many women feel this rage at something we can’t quite name, or perhaps don’t know how to name. I am sure many men feel this, too. I know some of it is my own anger, while I know much of it is the collective rage, a rage carried over from centuries of oppression of the Feminine.
My mind can’t understand how this anger and rage can be expressed without hurting another. I don’t want to simply spew more negativity into the world…there is enough already. But, I know I must feel this anger. It is here. And, I feel compelled to do something about what is happening all over our planet. While I feel small compared to the problems, when I feel this anger arise, there is at least something moving, something stirring rather than the complacency that comes when I feel overwhelmed by the problems I see.
In my writing, I have been stymied by the anger that comes up. I am clear that I don’t want to blame or rant or rave. I want to move from the love I know lies deep within my heart. Yet, I don’t yet know the fullness of how love can show up, the ways in which it can move and stand in its fullness as the truth.
I do know that love can cut like a knife of truth. I have seen it. When I stayed at Amma’s ashram in
From my own experience, I know that pure love follows the true expression of anger. When anger is experience fully, without identifying with it, and without allowing one’s conditioning to feed off of it, it transforms into love.
I now know this transmutation of anger to love is what Blue Tara represents. For thousands of years, Blue Tara, and the other goddess forms, have represented this transmutation because anger blocks the way to expression of truth and love. There have been deities to express this because this is part of our path to awakening, to discovering the truth and wholeness of what it is to be female.
There is so much fear amongst women about being angry. No woman wants to be the angry bitch. Yet, we must feel the entirety of what is here, without identifying with it. We are not our feelings or thoughts, yet they move through us. When we block the negative ones, we block all of them. Our hearts are big enough to hold the entire universe…I know we can hold the feeling and expression of this anger, too. Perhaps then it will be like letting the air out of a balloon, slowly, little by little, rather than letting it get so full that it pops.
Post Mother’s Day Thoughts
Happy Mother’s Day. I am a day late in wishing this, and yet it feels right to wish it to all mothers for yet one more day.
Just one day is not enough to truly appreciate what mothers do and give.
Just one day is not enough to really stop and consider what your mother offered up to you.
Just one day is not enough to imagine what it would be like if we all looked inside to see what we expect of mothers and motherhood, what kind of ideals we hold mothers to, and how we might soften our expectations of our own mothers, ourselves as mothers, and all the mothers in the world who continually live under the stress of such expectations.
I had a wonderful day yesterday. I was able to see both my daughters, their husbands, and my grandson, as well as my mother and sisters.
I was particularly aware of the smiles on mothers’ faces and wondered what it would be like if we let mothers off-the-hook from expectations of having to be super human, and ultimately what it would be like if we let ourselves off-the-hook of the same expectations.
