Something in me is so resisting this… writing or…blogging about the Sacred Feminine and my personal ponderings and journey in the great adventure to go deep within the Sacred Feminine.
I think I can actually identify the source of this resistance. And it’s called – “Being Afraid of Realizing What My Potential Might Be.”
Ah… my good friend, Fear.
Step aside, Fear…
This morning, I had breakfast with my father, who is about as Catholic as they come, as in Knights of Malta Catholic. As in giving away 1000’s of Miraculous Medals (which signify the Virgin Mary) Catholic, along with Guardian Angel cards, etc.
The last time I had breakfast with Dad several months ago, he gave me a Guardian Angel card and I gave it back to him, telling him that my spirit guide was very humored by his gesture but the card would probably have more meaning for someone else. I really tried to do this nicely, and honestly, my spirit guide did think that his card was rather funny. But a person has to understand that my father should have become a priest instead of an investment counselor. And instead of having seven kids, he could have shepherded an entire congregation to Christ through the Catholic folds.
But he’s my father. And I do love him. And he is a proselytizer par excellente. He can trigger that latent Catholic guilt in a heartbeat. Oh those triggers are installed so early on and are excruciatingly difficult to remove. I have seen him countless times give away the Miraculous Medals and then ask the woman (almost always a woman) what church she goes to. And if she does not go to a church, then he pauses and frowns. I always want to kick him then.
Because… God is not just found in a Church! Darnit!
So I have not seen my father in months. And this morning we meet for breakfast and he walks in with a book in a gift bag. And I ask him what’s in the bag, thinking that he’s so sweet and he remembered that my birthday is next week (6/23).
Well, not so. I don’t think he remembered my birthday. That’s okay. But when he pulls the book out, I am just floored. More like a little pissed.
The book is called: “Rediscovering Catholicism.”
[Oh. Now that I am discovering the website for the book, I see that it is from a group called The Dynamic Catholic Institute. Another sigh… And it appears that many donors have made it possible for people to buy the book for free, only shipping and handling is charged. I wish some donors would buy my book, my thousands of copies of unsold books in my basement, and make copies available to any and all, and I could have some income from the sales. I would even create an organization – an LLC called The Dynamic Society for Those Living an Examined Life and Open to Changing Belief Systems, if some donors surfaced. I would.]
So… first I was a little irritated and let it slide that he brought yet another item that was intended to put a little bit of Catholic guilt, with a sly hook, into my Good Catholic Girl self. I let it slide and let it slide but then he started sermonizing to me about LOVE and FORGIVENESS toward some other family members and about how JESUS – this, JESUS – that… and I started to really get it. He really brought that book to give to me (even though he claimed that I was the last of 40 people he had given the book to) because he was still trying to bring me back into the Catholic fold. I was supposed to be the Good Catholic Girl, still. In his mind, I was still vulnerable and yearning to find my way back to the hard wooden pews to find God on Sunday Mornings in Mass.
AND I’ve been studying with Native American teachers for fifteen years now. Fifteen years is not a short amount of time.
And he, my father, still thinks I will rediscover Catholicism as my chosen path for my spirit and he’ll successfully rope me back into the institutionalized, repressive bastion of patriarchal religious ways.
HUGE SIGH HERE…
But, what he has not realized is that I have been gradually, gradually exorcising the GOOD CATHOLIC GIRL from my system to the point where now, a week before my 52nd birthday, she’s pretty much gone. And this is a good thing.
Because finally, after 52 years, this past morning I stood up to my father in the parking lot outside the restaurant and told him that I had had it with his gifts with the Catholic hooks that are trying to pull me back in to Church – that Church. The one that murdered millions of women, gifted healers and herbalists and powerful women over the centuries in the name of Christ… the one that has more blood on its hands than any other organized religion. It’s true. And what the Vatican still does, now… oh… I am feeling a strong rant coming on and that’s not really where I want to go with this.
(Yes, the Catholic Church has done good too… but cripes… why don’t they sell off their gold and silver and artwork and fund some good hunger abatement programs in Africa? Or see how the human population explosion on the planet is not such a good thing and birth control is a good thing… and on and on…)
So I essentially set my boundaries and told my father to Cease and Desist with the Catholic stuff – right there in the parking lot – and just turned around and walked away. Well, more like STOMPED away and just worked at sweeping all the rage within me out and off and beyond me. I did not want to be in a rage all day. I don’t really like those kind of days and would like to think I’m beyond them.
And my poor father… I left him there in the parking lot standing alone. And he never got his Baltimore Bear Hug. Nor did he deserve it at that point. In my mind.
There are so many layers of emotion and conditioning (both healed and unhealed) here that I’m feeling and I can’t express all of them. Not right now. But I will share some emails and Facebook chats about it below. This day (rather yesterday) has been an interesting Grist for the Mill. My spiritual mill, that is.
And the sad truth is that my father is so devoted to the Sacred Feminine too. His version is the Virgin Mary and he can’t see that I’m also so devoted to the Great Mother. Mine is a juicy Earth Mother Chocolate Version laced with tangs of orange and expresso beans chopped finely. His is the way toned down vanilla with not so much flavor variety. But they are still both versions of the Sacred Feminine. But his lens is too narrow to view that, so far.
Makes me sad.
So what follows is my Facebook status report, written about an hour after leaving my father standing in the parking lot. After that is my father’s email to me written about 2 hrs after I left him standing there.
Written ~10:30am, Facebook Status Report – 6/17/11
Okay… how long will it take my parents to get that I’m a student of Earth Mother ways…? I’ve chosen a spirituality that incorporates the Sacredness of the Earth as much as the Sacredness of the Great Mystery/God/Allah/Creator/choose your term. My father just tried to give me a book called “Rediscovering Catholicism”… and I gave it back [to] him. I’m trying here… really trying but enough already.
Oh, I could go on and on… and need to do a real blog entry. But enough of the patriarchal, domineering, way out of balance ways that are so disrespectful and destructive of the Earth and Feminine Sacredness and…etc, etc. You get my drift… ;~)
Mare: ps. thanks for reading/listening. I’m going to sit in a bowl of smudge right now and sink into the Earth to let Her take this pain and rage that I’ve been feeling for the past hour or so…
RB: Mare, you are better off letting go of the expectation. It’s a setup. You cannot squeeze water from a rock, and you’ll feel worse for trying. . .
KH: Not everyone will hear nor love the music that’s in you.
JKP: It is a harder road especially when dealing with family and the generation gap – stay true to your heart/calling/spirit and somehow through your strength you will find a way to let go of the limitations you are feeling being put upon you – sometimes it is difficult for parents to understand their children (no matter their age) are moving forward on a path they do not understand. Perhaps through your wonderful writing you can help them with this – either they will grasp where you are now or not but close no doors without keeping the love coming through.
Mare Thank you, all of you for the sage words, support (and prayers — you know who I’m talking about there)… and I know part of this emotional response is that I’m just plain exhausted. And what I’m going to do is to retreat into my wee little shell for the night. Watch some Robin Williams live on video, get some good giggles going and let it go… I know that part of what is getting kicked up has to do with the Sacred Feminine retreat that I’m organizing and getting in touch with a collective unconscious level of rage that many of us women harbor for the suppression through the centuries… sigh. But I don’t need to talk all of this on. And underneath this rage is tremendous hurt and woundedness. And many men are extremely wounded too but this harsh system… So I will sit in front of my altar with these ponderings and let it go… I do want to keep the love there… And I shall.
JS: Mare, to paraphrase some of the things said already and weave them into my own thoughts…
Your spirit, your song, your conscious – they are greater, they are more expansive than Catholicism. Do these things reject Catholicism? Do you? I think not! You have transcended it. In God’s universe, we can find all of the good and all the not-so-good. In God’s universe, we can find love, and peace, and charity of spirit. And in God’s universe we can also find prejudice, hate, and superiority complexes. I know you live fully in the broadest stretches of spirituality. I think your parent’s needs are sort of like a drop of dew, calling to the ocean, “Look at me! I am all you need to know!” You are the ocean. Embrace the dew – it is a part of you, and will never be all of you.
“For the raindrop, joy is entering the river.”
Mare: Thank you, J… that is beautiful. i’m humbled…
JS: me too…
CD: There must be a sale. I was handed Rediscovering Catholicism by my mom a few weeks ago, too.
Mare: C, you’re funny! Methinks this sale is being funded by the Vatican… sigh… ;~)
Mare: ps. C… methinks you probably reacted a bit less emotionally than I did… gosh darn trigger points… ! ;~)
Dad’s email to me, same morning, later:
Subject: The only important summation.
The only important thing I can say to you Is that I love you, have always loved you and will always continue to love you, as you were, as you are and as you will be, for all of the rest of my days on earth as well as for all eternity thereafter. The rest is fru fru. So I will send you a big Baltimore bear hug along with this email, with no obligation on your part to respond or reply.
my response –
peace and love,