spring visions
on moving from separation to divine union (7/7)
Black hair is truly a mystical journey. After all of those years of spending hours in the hair salon burning, washing, and setting my hair; absorbing harmful chemicals; buying vitamins for thicker, longer, and healthier hair; changing the way I slept to prevent hair loss; installing weaves and braids to obtain instantaneous longer and straighter hair; trying out various hair products that promised “better” hair; wincing at the rain; trying not to sweat too much under the summer sun; worrying about getting splashed at rowing practice; wondering how I was going to hide my hair during “bad hair days”; blowing out my hair before school; and crying over haircuts that were too short (I was convinced my beauty was gone), I shaved my head.
My mom was terrified when I told her I would cut my hair off. I explained to her that continuing to relax my hair was unsustainable because of how unhealthy the practice was, and she understood. She just wanted me to find another solution that didn’t involve people seeing me practically bald (which I am not). There are ways to transition from chemically relaxed to natural hair. You could let it grow out and go once a week to a salon for treatments (to keep it healthy), cutting off the dead ends slowly until all you have is natural hair. You could grow it out for a little bit and then get braids. You could get a wig so no one sees you with no hair. You can also bite the bullet and start over. I weighed all of these options, but I knew all I wanted was that fresh start. My mom’s reaction was expected; she has always looked out for me. She was afraid of what everyone at work would think (I work in a conservative place, so I got that; I was scared too). She was fearful of what my friends would think. She was just scared for me. I didn’t want fear to continue making decisions for me, especially when I suspected this change would make me happy.
If you had told me even a year ago, let alone six or ten when I was still in college and high school, respectively, that there was a time when I would need to start over, I would have cried. When my sister was in high school, a texturizer burned half of her hair, and she had to start over. My mother was horrified but accepted her fate. My mom questioned why I would voluntarily do this, and even I questioned my sanity. Somehow, it just felt right. As someone prone to anxiety and overthinking, I was surprised at how right it felt. I tried to test myself to see if the fear would rear its ugly head. It didn’t.
John, my partner then, and I arrived at the salon for my nine a.m. appointment. He sat there for an hour while they chopped my hair off, shaved it once, shaved it again, and trimmed the edges. The stylist didn’t have me facing the mirror, which was probably a good idea. (I caught glimpses in the mirror; it looked questionable in those liminal stages. I had to calm myself down, reminding myself that it wasn’t done yet.) I had no idea this was the process, let alone how long it would take. (I wrongfully assumed they would take the clippers to my head for about fifteen minutes.) Occasionally, I looked at John while I sat in the chair; he nodded approvingly. That helped. It’s not every day a black girl willingly goes to the salon that early on a Saturday to cut all her hair off. I got stares from so many people in awe of what was happening. I also got so many warm compliments and reassurance from strangers. “You look beautiful,” said one woman to me who was there to get her hair washed. I appreciated that she took the time to come up to me. I was a stranger to her; even if she was utterly lying, it still felt nice.
When I first saw myself in the mirror, I was shocked. I was amazed at how great it looked and equally shocked that it looked normal. My stylist commented, “No one on the street will know you had this done today. They are going to think you have always looked like this. That is how natural it looks on you.” He was right. I had made peace with my decision a long time ago. I was prepared to cry if I was wrong, but I felt relieved. John and I walked over to brunch, where we ran into my step-aunt, step-uncle, and their two adorable children. (I’m not sure they initially recognized me because they just gawked at me (they are pretty young).) They didn’t realize I had just finished cutting my hair and were impressed by how normal it looked. Over brunch, all John could say was how he didn’t know I could look even more beautiful and how he fell even more in love with me. I was so grateful and happy to have him there supporting me. We took fun Polaroids before and after to celebrate the metamorphosis.
One of the reasons I wanted to shave my head is that it’s more common to see black women with shaved heads than white women. Several months prior, I was watching the Gossip Girl reboot (it’s terrible… I watched every episode) and loved that one of the main characters, Julien, rocked a shaved head. I secretly wondered if I would look as stunning as Jordan Alexander with little to no hair. In the end, I decided that this was one of the ways I felt I could finally celebrate being black instead of always trying to be white. I felt normal and also had a sense of renewal. I felt like myself and reborn.
I paused during my run this morning, just noticing how much my body has changed over the past couple of years. I heard, “You’ve changed.” Suddenly it all made sense.
Between shaving my head and writing these essays, I appreciate my body more for its symbolism. All forms of nature are symbols, as are the various iterations of those forms. What’s the difference between a yellow and a pink rose? Both are forms of Mother Earth that hold a dream, i.e., consciousness, of Unconditional Love. Does the yellow rose convey Unconditional Love differently than the pink rose? Jasmine holds divine feminine consciousness or the divine feminine dream. Do various forms of jasmine bring out different dimensions of this dream? What is the difference between seeing jasmine vs. smelling it? Do they offer diverse healing experiences? What about the difference between a black jaguar and a cougar? Both are symbols of feminine power. The black jaguar holds an extra layer of shadow medicine, symbolized by its dark fur. What about the rosettes patterned on their fur? Hummingbirds are one of the few bird pollinators. What does this say about them? Sure, it highlights the healing powers of flowers but is there more to it? The way hummingbirds move (one of the few, possibly the only, birds that can fly backward) is medicine in itself. Their wings also move in a figure-eight pattern, the symbol of infinity. The moon, sun, stars, and other celestial bodies hold so much archetypal symbolism and medicine (explained by astrology). Spirit babies can appear as all kinds of colors in their mother or father’s aura. What do these colors mean? Why do they change colors? Do their colors specifically mean something to their mother or father? All forms of nature hold multidimensional medicine, seen and unseen.
Our bodies can be sources of beautiful medicine (1). Everything from my dark skin and specific hair texture to my body shape is medicine. I needed to be born into this body to tell this nuanced yet relatable, personal yet impersonal story. I am not saying everything is “fixed” now; I still have plenty of moments to be kinder to myself and much more to explore. Knowing that my body is my soulmate has allowed me to be in awe of it and its expression.
My spirit baby has an orange aura like me. I wonder how I appeared in my mother’s aura.
Finding the same unconditional awe, love, and beauty I find in nature in my own body has been a winding path. I knew the answer was that since we are inseparate from Mother Nature, we share the same beauty and love. Every dimension, aspect, or form of Mother Nature holds a consciousness, i.e., dream. We all take on different forms to enact or carry out that dream. A yellow rose may be yellow because, according to its soul or dream contract, yellow is how it wants and needs to convey Unconditional Love. In contrast, a pink rose expresses the same consciousness differently. How we appear is also Nature’s synchronous way of expressing its love. In “truth,” none of our physical expressions exist without one another. White, black, and all skin colors in between are needed and valuable synchronous expressions of Nature. They create one another like all polarities, e.g., the moon and sun; earth and sky; the divine masculine and feminine; light and shadow; Democrats and Republicans; etc. One could not exist without the other in this third-dimensional reality; they are eternal soulmates. This includes every dualistic expression on the spectrum of those polarities. (I know this is incredibly idealistic; the grounded part of me knows that practical and tangible systems are needed to effect meaningful change; still, I am a true romantic.) We all hold different dimensions of Mother Earth’s Dream, The Mother Dream; we all share The Mother Dream birthed by The Mother Dreamer, i.e., The Cosmic Mother.
You and I; the planets and stars; the flowers and bees; the fire and wind; the forest and water, all share the same dream. We simply have distinct, potent ways of telling our stories. The more we know ourselves for our complexities and nuances, the more we understand that we all reflect the same soul, consciousness, and dream. When I look at people, I wonder what dream, archetype, or vision they hold within themselves. I wonder what love they hold in their hearts, connected to the collective heart. I wonder how the people in their lives support them in enacting that dream. I know that someone loves them unconditionally; thus, there is no reason or excuse for why I cannot treat them with love, kindness, and respect.
As one of the richest dreams, summer has reflected on how much there is to love about being human and being on Earth. Even amongst the ninety-degree days and thick humidity, I feel an immense sense of gratitude. Admittedly, this constant rush of thankfulness is harder for me during winter’s dream as I haven’t yet learned how to receive and appreciate winter’s wisdom, but I will arrive there someday.
As the end of summer slowly approaches, I can feel the healing spiral coming to a close and opening again. Earlier this year, I felt great closure during Mars Dream. I had made peace with many relationships and experiences that would loop through my dreams. Even though not everything was “fixed,” and there was still some more growth, I was grateful for the chance to experience some new beginnings and wipe the slate clean. As humans, we are natural healers, bringing love and tending to all of our wounds. One summer evening, as I reflected upon all of the growth that had taken place over the past several years, I could feel something else stirring inside me, urging me to pay attention. It was as if I knew all those years I spent healing and cracking myself wide open were like practice for what was to come.
I learned so much by being my own healer over the past few years. I also want to honor that I have had some unparalleled teachers and healers that have guided me toward discovering what I am like as a healer. It sounds cheesy, but it always comes back to Love, right? The way we love is unique, but it always returns to that place. I believe this is reflected in my story from my previous essay about the garden. That day I was sitting in Hummingbird Garden, observing my patterns, and I noticed that no matter what, I always sought out a piece of Mother Earth. It didn’t matter whether I was happy and inspired or sad and confused…. I always came back to wherever I could find green.
It is innate to experience awe amidst all of Mother Earth’s beautiful dreams, but what about the shadows? Humanity and this world are filled with shadows; that’s not a bad thing. Without our shadows, I wouldn’t be writing this piece. Light and shadow are soulmates, much like dreams and nightmares. I didn’t realize what I was doing at the time, but I can pinpoint the first moment I decided to find love and wisdom when I was in a tough spot, and it has been a part of my practice ever since. Thanks to John, I am continuously in awe of my shadows and all of the medicine they have provided. Our shadows are just as beautiful as any aspect of humanity. The Cosmic Mother/The Great Mother/Mother Earth has infinite dreams, which means there are endless opportunities and portals for love and beauty. Our capacity to experience awe, beauty, and love is unconditional. We need to choose to tap into the dream layered beneath the nightmare. It is important to note that I am not talking about spiritually bypassing by simply saying that “everything is love and light yaddy yaddy yaddah.” Choosing love in challenging moments is somehow simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing I have ever done. It didn’t work when I tried to brush over how I was feeling. Yes, The Great Mother’s Dream is woven into every fiber of our experiences, seen and unseen. As human beings, we undergo a wide array of experiences and emotions. Some of them feel great, and others don’t. How we feel is a powerful compass for the impact we want to have. The Mother Wound is a powerful portal because my mother wound runs so deep. All the sadness and hurt have helped guide me toward the change I want to effect in my time on Earth. The scarcity and loneliness crisis impact many, and we must do our part to heal it. I have always suspected that how we heal ourselves is how we are meant to heal the planet. My answer has been returning to the awe, beauty, and love in every dream. What’s yours?
Someone brilliant once said humans don’t have to be taught to see beauty (2). We don’t have to be taught to fall in love with a sunset, the waves of an ocean crashing on a shore, the lush green of a forest, the breathtaking view from the top of a mountain, the soft light of the moon, the sound of water rushing from a waterfall, the snow tickling our skin, the vibrant colors of flowers, the majesty of trees, or splendor of a rainbow. We fall in love with Mother Earth for at least a split second when we see this natural beauty and are in awe. No matter who or where you are, we all know beauty when we see it. It differs for everyone, but I trust the feeling is the same. This is one of the experiences that unites us and makes us divinely human. I am constantly in awe of John and all of the synchronous lessons I have learned from our relationship. I find myself in John all the time and subsequently am in awe of myself as a form of Nature. Imagine what would happen if we all saw the innate beauty in one another, if we were in awe of one another, in the same way, we are in awe of Nature? We shouldn't need to be taught to love one another. I don't think we do, I just think we forgot.
How can I lovingly support those around me?
I imagine there is nothing like a mother’s love for her (3) child. I love you so much; you aren’t even “here” yet. You are my soulmate, and I can’t wait to meet you. I can only envision all of how I will come to love you. My vision is to learn to care for myself and give even more to others, especially you. Everyone has someone who loves them. When I become a mother, I hope it will inspire me to become even more loving and compassionate for those unknown to me. I always think, “What if that person was my child? How much love would I have for them?” Everyone could be your child in a quantum, energetic sense. We are all so connected; it’s not impossible. I hope that we can look beyond the conventional definitions of “family,” “parent,” and “child” to care for one another more. We all come from the same place. We are all on the same team. We are all a part of the same family. We are all in one another’s lives to care for one another. Even if it doesn’t come in the pretty, comfortable package that we would prefer, that doesn’t diminish the power of the lesson; it amplifies it. We are all children of the Earth guiding one another home.
How can I lovingly support those around me?
My vision for everyone is that we can feel comfortable enough to share our stories, spirits, and hearts. Vulnerability hasn’t always come easily to me. I am continuously inspired and in awe of those who dare to be vulnerable. They have shown me all how I am not alone. Relationships and community are one of the most beautiful aspects of being human. I hope that as we all come to care for one another, we feel loved and supported enough to share and give of ourselves more. Vulnerability is how we see ourselves in one another and move one step closer to harmony.
How can I lovingly support those around me?
Everything I do is always related to creating a more connected and beautiful world. This is my favorite vision, partially because it is so simple. There are so many ways to overcomplicate spirituality, religion, mysticism, and literally everything else. I’m pretty sure it all comes from the same place, i.e., love. How we get back to that “truth” is up to us.
I envision a reality where everyone can connect to the natural world’s awe, beauty, and, thus, love. I hope that this can move us all from separation to divine union.
(1) This is not to say that we are all born into the “right” body. I am aware of my privilege as a cis woman. I believe our bodies relate to the medicine we can offer the collective in whatever way we choose. All bodies have a story and are valuable and essential. This is also not to minimize the experience of those in marginalized bodies. Although I am marginalized in one way, I am not in all forms; thus, I cannot speak to all experiences. I am open to suggestions for a more inclusive way to phrase this.
(2) Disclaimer: I first heard this idea from Zach Bush, M.D., who received it from a colleague. I don’t know Zach’s work extensively and thus do not claim to agree with all of his ideas, but I want to give credit where credit is due.
(3) I know that not everyone with a womb necessarily uses she/her/hers pronouns. The Mother archetype is available to everyone of all gender identifies. If it weren’t universal, it wouldn’t be an archetype. My mother uses these pronouns, and since this story is about her, those are the pronouns I use throughout this essay.
crushing on everyone else but ourselves
on the sweetness of relationships, a truth about beauty, and a love note (6/7)
Creating relationships is one of the most beautiful things we can do on Earth. I don’t know what happens on other planets, realms, or even in different dimensions, but this makes Earth unique. Friendships; romantic partnerships; familial relationships; work relationships; relationships with animals, plants, and all aspects of Nature; relationships with the seen and unseen; and relationships with ourselves are all perfect mirrors.
Relationships highlight where we have opportunities to grow in all sorts of ways. In my other essays, I have primarily focused on how relationships are perfect mirrors for revealing and healing our shadows. They can also be perfect mirrors for parts of ourselves that we have yet to embody and fall in love with.
John (1) was one of my coworkers. He had this surreal presence about him. The only way I can describe it is his aura was so vast and bright. John was radiant; he brightened any room he walked into. John was hilarious and got along with everyone well. He had a great attitude but wasn’t overly optimistic in a way that seemed insincere. John had a talent for making you feel as if you had been friends for a long time, even if you had only known him for a few months. He just had a way with people; people felt at ease and at home with him. Everyone loved John.
There are a lot of ways to fall in love with people. Love is a full spectrum from platonic love to crushes to falling in love to unconditional love with everything in between. All kinds of love experiences have something to teach us. I love the word “crush” because even though it seems silly, crushes can be remarkably revealing. Crushes aren’t serious; they are lighthearted and fun ways of signaling what you may admire about a person. Sometimes you have crushes on people, which develops into a full-blown relationship. Sometimes you have them, and it’s meant to signal that you admire something about them or how that makes you feel. Maybe you want to embody that too and make others feel good, which we could all use more on this planet. I never had a crush on John, but I loved his energy. You know when people have good energy? It is so powerful to fall so deeply in love with someone, but it is also potent to admire someone without having romantic feelings for them. John’s energy reminded me that I have that capacity, too; we all do. We all can make those around us feel good when we are around them. I would want anyone I interact with to feel good after leaving. You know those people who you hang out with, and they leave you feeling drained? I love my alone time, so if I encounter someone like that, I limit my time with them. They are essential mirrors, too. This is not to say that people we care about are burdens. For example, a friend would complain about the same things whenever I saw her. She refused to do anything to make any changes. After a while, it was simply exhausting. It was also a reminder that I didn’t ever want to do the same thing. Take note of how the people around you make you feel. It’s all information. Don’t forget that people have their moments, and we want to be as patient as possible. That doesn’t mean you need to throw your boundaries to the wind. Remember that just because someone is in a tough spot doesn’t mean there isn’t something beautiful about them; they may just not be aware of and expressing it at that moment.
Paying attention to what we admire about other people is a powerful practice. It allows us to find innate beauty in all aspects of the world. Furthermore, for those of us that find it easier to find beauty in others versus ourselves, it can be a means to see more and more things to love about ourselves. One of the reasons I noticed John was because those were all potential dimensions of self I had yet to embody. Imagine everything you know about someone you love. You love them, so you likely know them very well. You see dimensions that most people may never see. You know how much they have to offer. Everyone you interact with is like the person you love. Imagine that the next time you interact with someone unknown to you. Imagine that someone else loves them and knows their depth. You don’t know all of these facets and nuances of strangers, but they do exist. Besides, they could easily be someone you could fall in love with, but you don’t know anything about them yet. Everyone has this potential.
Moreover, the things you notice about people aren’t the same for everyone. I am sure that if I pointed out how great John’s energy was, people would know exactly what I was talking about because everyone on our team was experiencing the same person. However, that doesn’t mean that we experience him in the same way. When I notice something about someone, it is usually accompanied by a feeling. I have experienced admiration or irritation depending on the medicine I need. Perhaps someone was irritated by John’s energy; it could have triggered something completely different for them. I.e., they would have felt John’s presence but in a totally different way. It is also possible for John, even with his large aura, to go completely unnoticed by some people. We see what we need to notice at any given time; it is all beautifully and mystically synchronous.
Relationships are a portal to unity consciousness. I think of unity consciousness in two ways: internally and externally. Relationships allow us to uncover and unite the parts of ourselves that we have abandoned for one reason or another. As I noted with John, this could refer to our shadows or simply the seen and unseen, radiant aspects of ourselves we haven’t embodied yet. Relationships as perfect mirrors will enable us to self-reflect, allowing for more self-compassion and external compassion for the parts of ourselves that we see in others. We only judge the parts of people we have yet to find tenderness in ourselves. On the other hand, we are also likely to admire the same parts of ourselves that we witness in others. We all have the full spectrum of humanity within us. This is how we can create a more patient, empathetic, compassionate, and loving world.
Thank you to all of my relationships for showing me not only the parts of me that needed to be embodied and integrated and what needed to be seen.
The concept of “truth” is tough to pin down because we all have our truths and perceptions of truths. I stated in a prior essay that I only believe in two things: 1) everything is Nature, and 2) Nature is synchronous. I hold this in my heart as true now, and there is always room for change. (Please note that these truths certainly aren’t true for everyone.) My first “truth” that everything is Nature implies that everything is universally equal. Furthermore, if anything is subsequently “true,” it must be universal, i.e., for everyone. I find that only archetypal experiences are “true.” I consider anything else to be a subjective, personal interpretation of these universal experiences of humanity. This is crucial because having some value system or “truths” to anchor into keeps me grounded in a largely subjective world.
Everyone is Nature. There are infinite ways to come home to that “truth.” For me, archetypes (2) are how I found myself in Nature. E.g., The Mother is everywhere in Nature in all kinds of forms. The more I connect with the spirit of my potential child, the more I connect with The Mother and find myself in Nature. This could be done with any archetype you see yourself in. Archetypes are spaceless patterns, i.e., we can find them anywhere. Archetypes are timeless, i.e., they can be found at any point in time throughout history in pretty much any culture. They are multiplicitous, i.e., there are infinite iterations and expressions of an archetype. Archetypes all have a light and a shadow because they are inclusive enough to hold space for duality. Any archetype or “truth” encourages potential, dynamism, inclusion, imagination, creativity, and unity consciousness.
Any archetypal truth discourages judgment and stereotypes. Within the past couple of years, people have been finding more and more ways to put themselves and their peers in boxes. We use labels to dissect, limit, judge, assess, and assume, attempting to transform the unknown into the known so we have more control. We no longer listen and learn. Archetypes allow us to connect. E.g., since archetypes are timeless and spaceless, they are also genderless; they are not confined by any human or societal constructs. You don’t need to identify as a woman to experience The Mother. There are plenty of people of all kinds of identities that know The Mother equally and in their own way. The Womb is another excellent example. You don’t need to have a physical, third-dimensional womb to understand and embody the archetype. You can, but it isn’t necessary. Now imagine this: you and someone who is so different from you can identify with the same archetypal experience, such as The Mother or The Womb. You may be different in a third-dimensional respect but have more in common than you originally thought energetically. Imagine how knowing yourself allows you to understand people unknown to you in a deeper, unassuming way. Archetypes build bridges. Like relationships, they are a means to unity consciousness. They allow us to see coexisting potentials in one another. Archetypes are so vast, mysterious, and inherently unknown. Seeing people through an archetypal lens will enable us to simultaneously honor that we don’t know every layer of their multidimensionality. Still, there are some places where we can build The Bridge. We find ourselves within them and them within us. Everyone belongs.
Love is a universal, archetypal experience. If your definition of love doesn’t include everyone, then it isn’t for anyone (3). For example, “love” isn’t just defined as “romantic love” because there are aromantic people that do not experience romantic love in the same way others do. It doesn’t make any love they may or not experience (I can’t speak deeply to this because I am not aromantic) any less valid. What about familial love? What about the love we have for our friends? There are different kinds of love, but they are all equally valuable. What about Love in a grander sense? I.e., what about those who experience Love by connecting with something greater than themselves? What about Unconditional Love? Any definition of archetypal human experiences, such as Love, must be expansive and inclusive enough to hold space for all of the diversity and multiplicity of the human experience.
Love is the experience of beauty. Similarly, if a definition of beauty is not for everyone, it is not for anyone. I.e., it simply holds no truth for me. The notion that beauty is only for people who can afford certain makeup products, skincare regimes, social-media-trending clothing, shockingly expensive designer shoes, etc., isn’t inclusive. The notion that beauty is only for white, cis, thin, able-bodied, young, etc., people isn’t inclusive. I am sure I could write another essay on the commodification of beauty and how the beauty industry is a matrix-inspired-psyop designed to manipulate people (especially women) to sell them back their insecurities as a form of empowerment all to ensure that we never actually feel empowered, whole, beautiful, loved, or a sense of belonging. (Did that even make any sense?) I don’t have any control over what ideals society continually attempts to sell us. I have found I don’t have control over much. What I do have power over is my perspective.
I understand that these definitions are nice in theory, but it doesn’t make the experience of exclusion any less real. All of those societal ideals about beauty very much exist, and I don’t know that they are going away any time soon. (Let’s be honest, although they don’t benefit us, they benefit someone, so someone will continually perpetuate these standards as long as they can make a buck.) I am not saying that we shouldn’t try to change them. I am saying that they don’t need to be true for you and me. Not to get all cheesy, but change does begin by cleaning up our side of the street. We need to remind ourselves and others that this doesn’t need to be true. It is a “truth” for some, but it doesn’t need to be (and isn’t) True for everyone.
By the way, there is more than one solution. There are probably infinite solutions. In my first essay, I acknowledged that sustaining the cultural beauty norms benefits many people. Perpetuating them gives people a chance to feel safe. For some people, finding a way to conform and survive is their solution, and that’s okay. Some people are more apt to eradicate the system. Tressie McMillan Cottom, the author of Thick, discusses how calling herself ugly is a way of acknowledging that she will never be beautiful in a world that worships white as the beauty standard. Through her research, coupled with decades of personal experience, she found that beauty is white and white is beauty. They are inseparable. Beauty is simply a societal construct and mechanism to keep white people in power. She claims that the current definition of beauty cannot and will never include someone like her and me. That is true. Thus, not calling herself beautiful calls out the system for how exclusive and broken it is. It’s an interesting conversation. I can see how both ways of interacting with this system are valid. I aim to create something new.
Nature is beauty, and beauty is Nature. Nature is everywhere; it is universal and accessible (4). I was fortunate enough to grow up by a gorgeous, three-hundred-acre park when I was younger. That park has held space for me throughout nearly every stage of my life. It has seen me savoring juicy oranges in between soccer games when I was little, running past its trees when I joined the track team when I was a bit older, walking with friends, trading secrets, photographing peonies for this special space, enjoying coffee and baseball throws with my previous partner, crying during the most confusing and heartbreaking moments of my life, and falling in love with all the expressions of Mother Earth it holds. I have found peace amidst all of its dreams, from the coldest depths of winter to the hottest summer moments. I know all of the fields, trees, and trails... I know the park inside and out. I know where all the flowers are and when it’s their time to bloom. I know the best spots to view the sunrise, sunset, and full moon throughout the year. I know where the caterpillars hang from the trees in the summer. I have heard where the coyotes like to spend their time and, thankfully, haven’t run into any. My favorite place in the park is the walled garden. I know every inch of that garden. I know the floral architecture (I also may have made that phrase up; i.e., I know what flowers will appear and when). I know what flowers the monarch and Eastern tiger swallowtail butterflies love to flutter around. I know that the hummingbirds have a nest right over the northwest corner. If you want to see the hummingbirds, it’s best to come between six thirty and ten a.m.
Last year, I visited the walled garden to visit the hummingbirds every morning. At the time, I had been feeling stressed out and rather blocked. When I feel stuck or unable to write, I visit somewhere green to get the creative juices flowing again. I stood in the corner of the garden with the purple flowers that I noticed the hummingbirds seemed to like the most. I watched them buzz from flower to flower, sometimes visiting the tree above the corner of the garden or sampling the nectar of other flowers. I felt this inexplicable sense of peace, the same peace I felt whenever I visited a natural space, especially with flowers. I felt renewed. As I watched them, I thought back to every other time I had felt stressed or blocked and observed that the answer was always the same: I came back home.
When I want to be reminded of true beauty, I go there. I don’t live in that town anymore, and it is a privilege to be able to catch a train to walk over there. Going to the New York Botanical Gardens or my favorite flower coffee shop in the East Village is a privilege. Not everyone lives in a place with a “typical” abundance of Nature. I want our comprehension of beauty to be accessible. I love that garden so much, but I don’t always want to go somewhere outside myself to be reminded of what true beauty looks like. The green and all of Nature are simply mirrors for the beauty we all contain within us. This is why I have been focusing on finding myself in Nature this year, so no matter where I am, I know I am Beauty and Love.
The Mother helped me find that mirror. All aspects of Nature are beautiful and healing. Nature has enough multidimensionality, diversity, and multiplicity so everyone can find something to be in awe of. I am especially attracted to the beauty of flowers. I love flowers. When I see or smell them (lilac and hyacinths in the spring are spectacularly sweet), I am in awe of how beautiful they are. All flowers are embodiments of The Mother. They are infinitely creative, reproductive beings. Even more simple than that, when I see them, I am in awe, and I feel love. I love springtime because many breathtaking flowers appear after those long cold months. I have such a tough time during the winter; my mood directly correlates to what is happening outside. My friends and coworkers are probably sick of me saying how beautiful the weather is right now (most associate weather with trivial and dull conversation). The fresh air and sun on my skin are so nourishing. I feel so lucky to be outside without shivering (my roommates love winter, a season I have yet to appreciate fully; for now, I tell them how insane they are). I cannot get enough of how beautiful the Earth is, especially during spring and summer. That feeling of renewal and rebirth is unparalleled. It’s how I felt when I understood the depth of The African American Wound and, thus, why our cognition of beauty is so important to me. It’s how I felt when I found patience, compassion, and grace for my shadows. It’s how I felt when I uncovered the deeper reason behind my eating disorder and realized I was not alone. It’s how I felt when I finally understood, appreciated, and empathized with my mother. It’s how I felt when I knew I had the power to heal and grow from integrating my past experiences. It’s how I felt when I began to cultivate my own definition of beauty. It’s also what I felt when I felt my spirit baby for the first time. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that The Mother Wound was where this journey began; thus, The Mother is how I found peace.
I am sorry for believing that beauty was something outside, separate from myself, and I am finding ways to practice something different.
John is magnetic. He has a big, beautiful, and bright aura. John is an outstanding storyteller. He is very easy to relate to. One of the things I love about John is that he can start meaningful conversations with anyone. Even if it is about something incredibly niche or unknown to him, he listens and genuinely enjoys the conversation. He is a deep, receptive, and balanced listener. John is playful and curious. John loves learning. He once told me that while it’s good to know a little bit about many things to hold informed discussions, it is also important to have something you are deeply passionate about. For example, suppose you have something you know inside and out; you can appreciate when other people have worked to master something. You may not know much about it, but there is mutual respect for how much effort it takes to transform something into an art form. I love passionate people. John indirectly taught me how to appreciate the depth of all beings, seen and unseen, for their beautiful mystery.
When I pay attention to the people I admire, it has nothing to do with how they look. Instead, I am in awe of people with a beautiful life perspective. Sure, there are people I find pretty or attractive; we are all human. I am in awe of those who consciously leverage the world around them to become kinder people. Those people have the most inspiring medicine. John has a beautiful, expanded appreciation for Nature. He knows that all beings, including humans, are ultimately Nature, even though modern narratives constantly reinforce that we are separate. John is kind, grateful, and generous. John is fully embodied and integrated. He sees people for their light and shadow, i.e., he sees the best in people but doesn’t put up with any nonsense because he is intimate with his own. John embraces duality; he is grounded in unity consciousness. He has a quiet confidence and knowing presence about him. John embodies and espouses tolerance, patience, empathy, and compassion. He is incredibly wise and humble; he doesn’t claim to know what is “right” or “wrong” but instead leads by example. John makes people feel seen, loved, and inspired. John easily sees the cosmic beauty of the universe.
I love you, John.
(1) Disclaimer: Anything I write about anyone in my essays results from my subjective, human, and imperfect perspective. None of my essays aim to portray anyone negatively; that would be unfair, as this is my side of the story. I do not claim 100% accuracy of anything but my perspective, mainly because I have not had contact with some mentioned people in several years. We all grow and change.
(2) I go into greater detail about archetypes here.
(3) This statement is a variation of a concept I learned from Lindsay Mack.
(4) The way nature is externally accessible varies, but Nature is always accessible for everyone internally.
my best friend's brother's mom
on multilayered mirrors; familial cycles and puzzles; and taking responsibility for ourselves (5/7)
John’s sister (1) was originally my best friend’s childhood friend. We attended the same high school but didn’t get to know one another until the height of COVID. John’s sister was sweet, funny, and easily likable. Everyone would always say, “Everyone loves *insert her name here*.” She wasn’t the most self-assured person I knew but seemed kind. When we started hanging out, she was going through a tough time. She and her girlfriend had just broken up. Not everyone in our town is small-minded, but not everyone is accepting. She felt comfortable talking to me about it, and I was happy to be there for her.
We quickly grew close. We would hang out every Friday night, and I always stayed over. We spent so much time eating, watching TV, walking, and talking. (Was there anything else to do during COVID?) I understood what it was like to suddenly lose someone you cared about deeply. It wasn’t a breakup, but I lost my best friend. My best friend at the time and I would spend every waking moment together. We were video chatting or messaging one another when we weren’t together. We even watched TV together over the phone. One day we weren’t friends anymore. That was the first painful loss I experienced, and I didn’t forget it. Even though I am past it now, it took time, and I knew how hard that could be, so I wanted to support John’s sister in any way I could. I sat there while she cried and listened to her reexamine the relationship repeatedly. I listened to her question whether she did something wrong to cause the relationship to end. I listened to her, wondering if she would ever find someone again. I listened to her asking if she was innately unlovable. I sat and listened.
I sat and listened for months. It seemed to get better at some points, but it was primarily the same narrative over and over and over again. I didn’t mind the repetitiveness at first; I was sympathetic. I would have wanted someone to be there for me while going through something similar. So I sat and listened.
I would tell her that she didn’t do anything wrong. I would say to her that she was going to find someone again. I would say there were so many things to love about her. She may have been listening, but it didn’t matter unless she knew those things for herself. I knew that all too well.
I began to notice a pattern. I was right when I suspected I could tell her hundreds of times that she didn’t do anything wrong, she would find someone else, and she was lovable, but she didn’t believe it. Not only did she not believe it, but I wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Thank you for revealing to me the true nature of relationships. All relationships are perfect mirrors, reflecting where we have room to grow.
The more time I spent at John’s house with his sister, the more I noticed John. He was cute, and I suspected he might also have a crush on me. John had shoulder-length brown hair and soft hazel eyes. He only had one dimple that appeared every time our eyes met. John drove a Mustang Shelby GT-500, which I convinced him to teach me how to drive. Our relationship developed slowly and quickly (COVID created a strange time vortex). Neither of us had a job then, so we would spend several hours together every other day talking, watching TV, tossing the baseball around, going to the beach, getting coffee, eating, and enjoying one another’s company.
John was closed off at first. The infidelity from his previous relationship left him guarded. His barrier softened over time, and so did mine. John and I were similar and yet complete opposites. He was fiery, passionate, loving, and fiercely protective. He was also assertive, impulsive, hotheaded, and sensitive. I embraced his softer side, which led me to appreciate my vulnerability. Through my relationship with John, I discovered how playful and silly I was. This surprised me because, historically, I took everything so seriously. I fell in love with my playfulness and other unearthed dimensions of myself. I honestly never loved anyone the way that I loved John. He truly saw the seen and unseen aspects of me.
I have only been in a couple of relationships. I don’t have many dealbreakers other than the obvious ones, i.e., no abusers of any kind, dishonesty, or harmful people, whether conscious or unconscious… don’t be an asshole, and I am sure things will work themselves out. (Maybe those aren’t obvious, but those are my preferences.) My main dealbreaker is children. I have always wanted to be a mom. If I learned early on that someone didn’t want to have kids, I would be out the door no matter how great they were. About a week in, I told John that I wanted kids by around the time I was thirty. He was twenty at the time and said that was more than okay. I was delightfully surprised. I didn’t notice our four-year age gap much during our relationship, but I knew this was important to state before things got serious.
John and I began our relationship when I was still figuring out what I wanted to do career-wise. I received a serendipitous offer to interview at my current firm. It had taken me years to get to this point, and I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I didn’t necessarily know much about private equity, but I wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity I was fortunate enough to receive in the first place. John was stuck in a similar way I had been for years. I was empathic and remained as patient as possible.
I saw a future with John; I wanted him to be the father of our children. (As I write this now and our breakup is fresh, I still wish everything could have worked out that way.) The more John struggled with finding a job, the more I saw my vision of our future family and us slipping. I tried to remain supportive and patient. I tried to come up with suggestions and solutions. I ran out of ideas because I had gotten so lucky with finding my job; I didn’t have a formula for him. I didn’t want to tell him what to do. I didn’t know what to say to him, and I didn’t want to be the one to have to tell him anything. Nothing changed.
There was a fine line between being a supportive girlfriend and becoming someone’s mom. Historically, I have always taken care of other people. I had always taken it a tad too far and cared for them so much that they didn’t know how to take care of me when the time came. A friend once explained this tendency via a metaphor: when hawks create a nest, the male hawk ventures out to gather the materials, and the female hawk puts everything in its place. (Don’t quote me on this; I am far from an ornithologist, let alone a hawk expert.) I am the kind of person to get the materials for the nest and build the nest on my own. This pattern is my responsibility and something I am still working out. It was hard to try not to do everything I could for John. Even though I was out of ideas, I knew we would be in a codependent relationship if I crossed that boundary. I waited. Nothing changed.
While I waited, I experienced an unexpected empathy for my mother. Only while I was waiting did I understand what it must have been like for someone she loved so much to struggle, and there was nothing she could do. All I wanted to do was make things better for him, but I couldn’t. I came to appreciate this about my mom. My mom cared about everyone, from her children to random servers we would never see again. She was endearing and had a soft spot for young black women like my grandmother. My mom strived to make things nicer for everyone around her. Sometimes she would put so much energy into people, and it was either a) not reciprocated or b) she didn’t take enough care of herself. I have the same shadow. I will take care of everyone else before myself when the person that needs that care most is me.
John lived at home, which was okay at first. Who was I to judge? I was living at home when we first met, too. I began noticing how living at home affected him and his mental health. John, his sister, and their parents were all under one roof. When I was at home, my mom reminded me every day that it wasn’t a permanent solution and I needed to figure out my life. My parents never moved back home after they were eighteen. Things are different now; it’s far more acceptable for college kids to move back home to save money. Still, they thought my situation was abnormal, as did I. Additionally, neither of my parents wanted to see my potential wasted. Hence, they encouraged me to be independent by any means necessary. John’s mom was different; if she had it her way at the time, not only would John live there for as long as possible, but also, when we got married, we would move in and have our family there (I’m exaggerating?). (John’s cousins (his mom’s sister’s children) live next door with John’s aunt and uncle. They are both in their late thirties. My Italian friends lived at home with their parents until they got engaged. There is nothing wrong with that because that is the norm in Italian culture and others. It’s just not for me.) I looked around and realized that while I assumed everyone would have to become self-sufficient and move out eventually, that was evidently not the case.
John’s family is full of traditional Italians, and he is also traditional in some ways. I didn’t mind that. What I did mind was that it seemed to stunt his and his sister’s growth. (John’s sister eventually moved out only when she had a long-term boyfriend.) John’s mom is an enigma. The more I think I understand her, the more I realize I don’t. I used to believe that John’s mother’s goal was to keep him there forever. That may have been true, and she only realized that that wouldn’t happen as long as we were in a relationship, so she seemed to get used to the idea. That may have also not been the case; I can’t know for sure. There was a lot of chaos in that house, which I will keep private because while I am open to telling my story, I didn’t ask permission to air their dirty laundry online (which everyone has). I will say that she spoke to the people around her, including her children, in ways I found unsettling. I could have been sensitive because of how my mother talked to me. The way she spoke to John upset him. To make things worse, they seemed to have a codependent relationship that was keeping him there. (I am not a therapist and do not use the word codependent flippantly.) He said it was hard to concentrate on his future while he was in the house. I suggested he move out. He said he needed more money. It was a catch-22.
This was a cycle that recurred for two years. John would want to move out so we could begin our lives together. The dream was alive and well. He rediscovered his love for computer science and taught himself while looking for a job. We knew that that would take time, so we remained patient; there was no rush. I wanted him to be on a path he was passionate about. One day his mom would say something unsettling to him, and he would spiral downward. He would decide he needed to do everything he could to move out. The urgency began. Sometimes John found a temporary job that was a quick fix, didn’t like it, and quit. Sometimes he couldn’t find anything, which was equally, if not more, frustrating for both of us. He found his relationship with his mother distracting; he said that was holding him back. He still had trouble finding a way to move out. He wanted to leave but couldn’t. John and his mom would reconcile. There was less urgency to move out because things were good again. Things would stay calm for a while. Appreciating the peace, we would dream again. John and his mom would get into a fight. Here we go again and again.
I loved John so much. None of this changed how much I adored John or how much he loved me. I believed in our love so much; I would have done anything to keep it. Every time he said he would do everything he could to create the career of his dreams so we could move out and have children somewhere down the line, I was hopeful. The cycle happened one too many times. How much I loved him didn’t seem enough to break him out of the cycle if he was unwilling to find a way out. Slowly it sunk in that he wouldn’t be holding me back from the one thing that mattered the most to me; I was if I allowed it to continue.
I am sorry we didn’t work out as we hoped this time. No matter what happens, please know that I am eternally thankful for how you led me back to the most authentic parts of myself. I found what I cherish so much about myself through you. I wish you all the love and success I know you will have.
I got to know John’s family very well. Seeing his mother, sister, father, and him all interact was one thing. Meeting his cousins and extended family put everything into much greater perspective. There was this pivotal moment when I was having dinner at their house: John and I were sitting at the dinner table directly across from John’s sister’s boyfriend and John’s sister, respectively, with John’s mother at the head of the table. The puzzle fell into place.
I had never met a mirror like John’s sister. She is the only person I had encountered where when I looked at her, I thought, we are the same. I first suspected we had something in common when she commented on her body in a less-than-positive way. I didn’t think much of it because, sadly, it’s common for women to do that. John’s sister constantly questioned her lovability and, thus, her value. I have continuously questioned and negotiated my value for my entire young adult life. I noticed we had even more profound similarities when I saw how she interacted with the world around her.
Victim consciousness is utterly insidious. When I say someone has “victim consciousness,” I refer to people who refuse to take responsibility for their own lives. I can understand and honor how controversial this is because I am not the first person to address this concept. How much of our lives is within our control v.s. How much is predetermined is a debate that has existed for centuries. You could look at this from a philosophical or religious perspective, questioning nature vs. nurture or predeterminism vs. fate. There is also a more grounded aspect, e.g., how much power do people in marginalized groups have to determine their futures when pervasive systems of oppression constantly work against them? What about children? (People love to bring up babies and children.) Do they choose the unspeakable things that happen to them? I do not have the answers to these questions. I do not have the answers to these questions. While I am here, let me also acknowledge that while I am black, I grew up with a lot of privilege that affords this perspective. Nevertheless, when I see people with so much potential, their only roadblock is themselves, and they refuse to do anything about it, I say they are stuck in victim consciousness.
John, his sister, and I are privileged in many respects. There are no excuses. I didn’t understand what it meant to “hold yourself back.” Why would anyone want to do that? To remain precisely where they are. Years ago, I was listening to a talented, grounded, seasoned, and multidimensionally aware shaman’s podcast. During the episode, he said that if people are stuck, they need to speak to the part of themselves that wants to remain stuck. I remember when I was living with my mom, and she called me out for not getting a job so I could stay at home. Not wanting a job so I could stay at home? What?! Did she have a screw loose? Why would I ever want to stay here with her constantly yelling at me to get a life? I wasn’t insane, after all. On some level, she was right. I was comfortable at home. That was her favorite word, comfortable. I was uncomfortable, too, especially knowing that I was disappointing everyone around me, including myself. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. I may not have thought that consciously, but my actions spoke otherwise. Nothing changed until I was willing to risk my comfortable situation for something that would push me to grow. One night, I cried to my mom about the interactions between John and his mom. I was babbling on about how we needed to help and get him out of there. I stopped mid-breath and realized that, on some level, he wanted to be there.Otherwise, he would have left a long time ago. He liked his space. He liked living in a house. He liked the things his mom did for him (mostly). He liked having someone take care of the unknowns, so he didn’t have to think about it. He wanted to be there. Oh, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I found myself in John and his sister in different ways. John’s sister would constantly complain about certain things in her life and make no effort to change them. That ended our friendship. It was unhealthy and codependent. I am the kind of person that wants to help everyone. Helping people that don’t want to help themselves never works; it’s exhausting and distracting from what needs attention in your own life. I don’t know how she is now, but I only wish her all the success because I know she is more than capable. When I looked at her across the kitchen table as her mom passed around the spaghetti (2), I realized I needed to do everything I could to get my life on track. Otherwise, I condemned myself to the same blame-victim loop as the people surrounding me. I was no different.
I don’t know how much is predetermined and how much is free will. My guess is this: I believe that we have a soul/spirit with specific qualities and questions we come to Earth to explore. I also think all those qualities have a light and a shadow. John’s sister and mom are both powerful women. Just like everything else in nature, they have light and shadow. We may choose the core qualities and visions we want to embody as souls, which may be predetermined before we land earthside. However, light and shadow give us options regarding how we want to express our energy. We choose whether we want to express our light or shadow. Let me emphasize that there is no “right,” “wrong,” “better,” or “worse” choice. It is simply a choice. I have been in my shadow for so much and have learned so much from it. I have learned an innumerable amount of lessons from John’s sister’s, John’s mom’s, John’s, my father’s, and my mother’s shadow. The Shadow is just how I learn. I am sure people have learned from my shadow. This isn’t an excuse to be awful to other people. I wouldn’t appreciate someone saying, “I’m sorry about that. I was just like totally in my shadow at the time.” No. Our shadows exist as vital opposites so that light can exist and vice versa. They don’t need to go away; I don’t think that is possible. We must be aware of and responsible for how our shadows impact others and ourselves.
I love you.
(1) Disclaimer: Anything I write about anyone in my essays results from my subjective, human, and imperfect perspective. None of my essays aim to portray anyone negatively; that would be unfair, as this is my side of the story. I do not claim 100% accuracy of anything but my perspective, mainly because I have not had contact with some mentioned people in several years. We all grow and change.
(2) There is another layer to this story (because there are always more layers). While driving with my mom back from Canada, we discussed my cousin’s relationship. My cousin has been in a relationship with a Portuguese man for ten years. I don’t know many Portuguese people, but their family is highly patriarchal, even more so than in Jamaica. My cousin’s boyfriend lives with his parents (as he has his entire life), his brother, his brother’s wife, and their respective children. They are all under one roof. My cousin has tried to get her boyfriend to move out, and he refuses to move anywhere outside a five-mile radius of his mother’s house (I am not kidding). His mom does everything for him and expects his future wife to take care of him like she does now, i.e., take on the role of the mother for her son. My cousin and her boyfriend’s mom get along, but that isn’t who she is.
As I said earlier, there is nothing objectively wrong with this. Every culture has its norms and customs. My mom made it clear that she believes it is far from okay for a man in his late forties to be living with his parents and continuously refuse to move out with his long-term girlfriend. She thinks he is comfortable and has no reason (in his mind) to disrupt his life. This conversation showed me how much freedom and independence, especially for young women, are essential to my mom. My mom and grandmother have done so much to escape the patriarchal systems prevalent in Jamaica. I am not saying America is perfect; however, compared to many countries, we have made so much progress regarding opportunities for women. My mom was worried I was in a similar situation to my cousin. Moreover, she was especially sensitive to this idea because of everything she has been through to ensure her daughters didn’t find themselves in a similar pattern. She worried that I would end up with someone who couldn’t care for themselves and that I would take care of them. When I watched everyone pass the spaghetti around, I realized I was worried about that too. Sitting at the dinner table with John’s family highlighted how much self-sustainability, self-sovereignty, and self-empowerment mean to me. I didn’t know it before because I wasn’t even close to any of those things. I have grown a lot and come into myself more since then. I am not perfect by any means, but I changed a lot from when I first met John. What was okay at one point wasn’t anymore. This is not to say I couldn’t wind up with someone from a historically patriarchal culture, but I do not see myself conforming to its gender norms and expectations.