I hiked Squaw Peak yesterday morning with one of my friends, we got up early, while the sun was still snoring, resting up for another busy day burning the life out of the living. It was only 92 degrees at 5:30, practically sweater weather, so I enlisted a brave goddess to join me on my vertical craggy walk. This Summer has lasted for a century, I feel like a burned out shell of my once perky self. The sun is male energy, commited, active, aggressive, focused, linear, productive, and willful.
The sun does not need a life coach.
We made our way up the trail, I hear our feet crunching on loose rocks, birds tweeting, our bodies breathing hard, and my voice telling J that I’m thinking of hiring a life coach. I need structure, I need to be accountable, I have so much to do, so many projects. I need someone to manage me! I’m an idea girl, a visionary, I need someone to help me organize my chaotic brilliance, and then I need them to follow-up. I am willing to pay, because I’m frustrated and I know by now that if I don’t get this stuff out of me, I will go MAD, like the woman I saw in the laundromat the other day who kept shouting obscenities and wrapped each piece of her laundry individually in plastic grocery bags, and then washed it with liquid blue dishwashing detergent. I will be my very own mad interpretation of her, I’ll bet she has hordes of unfinished projects, acres of untapped potential, it’s all still inside of her pushing her around, fighting for airtime, demanding she pay attention, that she react to each and every urge, she is full of it all, no space for peace.
J tells me I can manage myself, she says there is no need to look outside of myself for structure, create it yourself she says. Is she nuts? That’s a lovely idea, but I need HELP, I’m beat up from rolling around in my head…I eventually get some stuff out, but that’s a fraction of what’s in there. I’m impatient. I want to realize my full potential as a human being ASAP, and I mean this in the most practical, Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs kind of way.
I want to realize my SELF. My whole self. I’ve realized parts of myself, but I just realized that I have been looking outside of myself for a piece I long ago disowned. Having a dead beat for a dad, I never fully developed my male side, my male side is a bit like my dad, a dead beat. And because we can only attract that which we already are, guess what kind of men I’ve been attracting? I don’t mean to insult any of my previous lovers, and not all of them were dead beats, but none of them were just right, cause I haven’t been just right.
” You can’t receive from another that which you are unwilling to give yourself.” ~ Paul Ferrini
They all had parts of him, but ultimately, they were just a way for me to keep up the game of distraction and projection. I am grateful to all of them for playing their part in my education and evolution, all of them blessings disguised as cracks in my heart. My last romantic rumble threw me back into myself. I’ve been digging through the rubble of my shattered projection looking for answers, and by the grace of GOD, I got them. I’ve been waiting for HIM to come along and straighten my shit out, because I’m busy……… THINKING! I don’t want to work power tools, or fix my car, I won’t buy a house because I don’t want to be bothered with the details of interest rates and down payments, and what if something breaks? The truth is, it scares me. I take care of my stuff, but I do it late, and I do it with a clenched jaw and lots of overdue fees. I help people die, but the thought of filing my taxes throws me into paroxysms of anxiety and terror.
Last nite a miracle happened, I got it. I’ve been praying and searching…and some profound answers have been given to me. I need to go back to the bottom, to the basic stuff before I go blasting off into my wild imagination full of …well, you’ll see. I have been so consumed with my ideas and wasted potential, that I abandoned the foundation which makes it possible for me to fly. No wonder I havent been catching any air, I don’t have a landing pad in place.
After a cooking myself a tasty dinner, I sat for 20 minutes, received an angelic voice recording of The Prayer of St Teresa , and went to sleep feeling settled and happy.
Then I met him.
He was tall, dark, beautiful, and he was very sick. He came to me in my dream with a terrible prognosis. He had been looking for me. The others told him there was no hope, could I help him? He thought I was the only one who could help him, he modestly shared that he was the heir to a great fortune. This would help us to heal him. He was full of bruises and from his arm hung a central line, a catheter that went directly to his heart. It was dirty and there was no dressing in place to keep foreign invaders out of his bloodstream. He had been neglected. He kissed me several times, and even though he kind of looked dead, I let him. I loved him, no question, he was gorgeous. He was ME. He was my sun energy. My commitment, my will, my focus. He was my life coach. He had been neglected for so long, he was weak and in need of great care. He’s not a dead beat, he’s just starving for attention. My attention.
We are rich, we are in love, we are basically strangers, but we are commited to healing and deep intimacy.
I am the only one that can save Him.